Heart Prayer

Only by Following the Way and re-reading my favorite poems can I find my way through the current morasses. Here's a poem by Elizabeth Cunningham from her book Small Bird.

Heart Prayer


You can only pray what's in your heart

so if your heart is being ripped from your chest
pray the tearing

if your heart is full of bitterness
pray it to the last dreg

If you heart is a river gone wild
pray the torrent

or a lava flow scorching the mountain
pray the fire

pray the scream in your heart
the fanning bellows

pray the rage, the murder
and the mourning

pray your heart into the great quiet hands that can hold it
like the small bird it is.

God Help Us

Deborah Griffin Bly and Ana Hernandez used to sing together as The Miserable Offenders. Their album God Help Us is now available as a digital download from cdbaby.com: here: God Help Us

If you prefer, you can get it here:
http://www.amazon.com/God-Help-Us/dp/B005SZROA6


It's also available on iTunes, but not in the original CD order (which we actually thought about): search for God Help Us or The Miserable Offenders.

We make the most money if you use cdbaby, but if you can pass these links around to your friends and rate the CD, more people will be able to find God where they are. Thanks for being our athletic supporters. And yes, Virginia, we're toyin with the idea of making more music, but haven't decided anything past dinner so far. We're thinking Thai. I'm having what she's having.

This is Evocative of Christmas

I wonder that "evocative" is the first word reviewers said about my Christmas music, both in 1993 and last fall. Evocative of what - some feeling they can't put their finger on? I don't get it. It's always seemed pretty simple and straightforward to me. Nevertheless, I'd love it if you would take a minute out of your busy life and buy my Christmas music. It's unlike any other Christmas music you've ever heard, it's beautiful and fun, and I need the money 'cause I wanna be rich! Well, not really rich, but I would like to pay January's rent, so, please get out your wallet and start clicking those links. Not only am I nothing without you, I've got nothing without you. Make believe we're next door neighbors and Support Your Local Sacred Musician. Let me help you to dive deeper and smile broader. That's why God put me here. Besides, it's no fun at all to dive deep and smile broadly by myself.

An Unexpected Christmas was recorded last year with the Virginia Girls Choir. You can buy the CD from the Girls Choir directly (click the title), or use the pretty blue link to your right for both downloads and CDs. The Virginia Girls Choir is a diverse group of almost two dozen girls from one dozen schools, 10-15 years old, and so freaking adorable I can hardly stand it! They are directed by the sweet and inventive Dan Moriarty, with whom I collaborated on this project. It was a labor of love, and we know you'll love it. Everyone else does. 75% of your purchase supports the girls choir program, which teaches the girls skills that will serve them their entire lives, and 25% supports me. If you're not yet convinced to take out your wallet, here's the deal from The Description Writing Department (it wasn't me): "The recording contains one gem after another of new and old, imaginative arrangements, fresh accompaniments using instruments often not heard in church (ever seen an udu?), sweet singing by the girls choir, and the warm sound of Ana Hernández's voice and guitar. “The Little Drummer Boy” will fascinate you, the Pachelbel Canon in “The First Nowell” will surprise you, the dances at the end of “Break Forth, O Beauteous, Heavenly Light will delight you, and you’ll be touched by the beautiful simplicity of “Silent Night”. Don’t miss Shirley Erena Murray’s text “Carol Our Christmas” about how New Zealanders experience the season and the lovely Welsh lullaby “Suo Gan.” You’ll discover more . . ." You really will discover more.

If you've already got a copy, please think of someone who, if you give them a copy soon, will be moved to buy copies for all of their friends. On the off chance you're still not convinced, listen to some complete tunes (5, 11, 12, & 13) here.

Those of you who think I peaked in 1993 (Keepin' the Baby Awake: Music for Advent and Christmas) will be pleased to know that if you download The Greatest Hits of The Miserable Offenders (for the low, price of $9.99), you will find my tune for A Stable Lamp is Lighted (text by Richard Wilbur) along with a dozen other cool hymn arrangements, both Christmas-y and not. I'm as surprised as the rest of you, having missed the fact that the MO's had even one "hit", much less an entire album of them! Yes, Breathe on Me, Breath of God is there, too. Tell your friends.

If you don't know about The Miserable Offenders, the following tutorial is brought to you by The Description Writing Department (still not me): "The duo of Deborah Bly and Ana Hernández, known at The Miserable Offenders, created imaginative and enduring music together. Their short-lived but powerful collaboration leaves an archive of performances and recordings that remain examples of how the ministry of two dedicated musicians can instill a liveliness to music the church has long sung and yet maintain a depth of spirit and message.

As always, please forward this info to all your friends, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support.

Come, Come, Whoever You Are

Come Whoever You Are led by Ana Hernandez from All Saints Company on Vimeo.

Greetings of the Autumn, dear ones.
I've been way too busy to write, but here I am again with too much time on my hands. Click on the arrowhead to see and hear this stunning tune by Dale Zola, with text by Rumi (pacing up and down by Ana). I taught this in Ottawa in August at a Music That Makes Community Conference. It was taught without black dots on paper ("the music"), because I've found using the music to be both help and hindrance in teaching this tune. It took longer than what you see here, but every time I teach it with the music (and the readers always beg for it), it goes from being a little insecure, but very musical, to being stiff and lacking in anything resembling musicality or community. All the heads go down, never to be seen or heard from again. What's the use of having strong singers if their heads are buried in a book? Alice Parker once said (or maybe she's said it a thousand times:) 95% of the music is not on the page. What's worse than singing the words "Come, come, whoever you are" than singing it to no one at all and not meaning it? Don't forget to pray the things you're singing, otherwise you're missing a huge piece of the pie.

Now that I mention it, there is one experience I had this year that struck me as the worst musical disconnect I've been a part of in a long time.

I was sitting at a round table with about a dozen people, one of whom was a very famous teacher. He turned on a CD and asked us to listen, learn and sing a chant as a centering meditation. The text was something like "wherever you turn, there is the face of God." I listened, marked, learned and inwardly digested the recording, and then opened my eyes to sing and see the face of God, expecting to be able to play with the people around the table, but not one person opened their eyes to look. This went on for more than five minutes! What is up with that?

Pay attention, people. Life's short. Get out of your heads, Come, Come again! Come! Let the singing move you to action. Build a well, Occupy Wall Street, visit the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked. We can do it all while singing, and the world will be better for it.

Lightening Strikes Twice!

Last July I wrote a blog post about my first patron, and how a guitar just showed up on my doorstep one Good Friday, delivered by the UPS man (See Still Grateful After All These Years, July 2010).

Well, in spite of the fact that it's not Good Friday, as luck (grace?) would have it another guitar has made its way to my doorstep. I kid you not. I wasn't at home to receive the box, but I did get an email from my friend, editor, and plant sitter Maura which said "Why didn't you tell me you'd ordered a new guitar?" To which I instantly hit reply and typed "Because I didn't order a new guitar?"

Then I called her immediately and asked if she was sure it was a) a guitar, and b) addressed to me. To which she replied "Yes, it's a big box that says C.F.Martin & Co."
Ana: (FREAKING OUT!) "But I didn't order a guitar!"
Maura: "Well, I suppose it could be a random box of wood. It's heavy, and I carried it in all by myself while Joe sat in the car with the dogs."
Ana: "Okay. Are you kidding me? You're not, are you? You don't lie. Who sent it?"
Maura: "It only says C.F. Martin on the box."

Oh. My. God.

I don't think Maura knew that this had already happened to me once before, about thirty years ago, at this same time of year. What are the chances? Well it turns out they're better than one might think.

Stay open people. You never know what amazing things might be on their way into your life.

A Day in the Life...

Today has been a fairly representative day in my life, so here's a glimpse.

Wake up, clean the kitchen, make coffee. I don't always clean the kitchen in the morning, but I was too tired to deal with it last night.

I realize I'm still tired after 8 hours of sleep because I just spent two days in the recording studio singing Christmas carols with the Virginia Girls Choir (Project No. 1), and it's only August. I think that will make anyone tired.

I start reading emails and am reminded to submit a tune list for Sunday night's Lifeline at Park Avenue Christian in the city (project No. 2). Do I teach a new tune, or go over the last two new tunes and a couple of older tunes I don't want them to forget? Hmm... thinking goes on, which I ignore while

I pour coffee and talk to a friend on the phone. While on phone, am reminded that I'm expecting a phone call from the West coast about next Saturday's Community Music Making workshop (project No. 3) in Portola Valley, CA (wherever that is), somewhere near SF. At least I know one person who lives there, and that makes me happy.

Think about breakfast. Sounds good. More coffee first.

Forget about breakfast as I read new tunes in my email. The one person I know in Portola Valley is also working with me on project No. 4, a hymnal revision called (goes off to look up name of title, which I really must learn soon - ah) One Heart and One Song. It's a revision of a hymnal called Music for Liturgy. 

Start to sort mail from the last three days, most of which is submissions for project No. 4, which had to wait until after I finished singing most of Christmas. I'll have more Christmas in September, and I've already had Christmas arranging in May and Christmas recording in June (most days over 100 degrees). I prefer my Christmu-sez in December.

I find a few lovely new tunes, some dull things, and a few things that don't fit the criteria at all for the hymnal revision. We're looking for unaccompanied music for congregational use. That means no instruments, just three or four-part interesting things to sing. Think Sacred Harp, Sweet Honey, Georgian Singing, Sardinian pastoral singing, Hungarian Women. The links are cool, people. Imagine you showed up at church and it sounded like that. You'd be on a spiritual bender before you knew it.

I sing at my desk for a couple of hours and realize it's time for a late lunch. No putting it off. It's almost 2 PM, and I forgot breakfast. Time is an artificial construct, unless I start to get cranky. Then I know it's time to eat.

More tune reading. Lots of fun. It's good sight-reading practice. More correspondence. It's funny how much correspondence I've had in the last week - the deadline for submissions must be in a few days. People have even been sending me their friend's tunes, so I've even been getting in touch with people to make sure they'd like to submit their submission (Song alert: I just dropped in to see what condition your submission was in.).

I love my life.

Wake from my song stupor when the phone rings about 4:15. Lester McKenzie from project No. 3. We've never met. Seems nice. We find a good page and climb on, so now we're on the same page. Great. Gonna have fun next week.

There was much more to my day, like writing a grocery list for the shopping trip that never was, sending Christmas carol files to Virginia, talking to another friend (whose helpful husband went wild with the weed-wacker and cut down her herb patch. O.M.G!), talked to my mom while looking for my sister Janet (who, it seems can't stay in her bed while in the hospital): Me: "Where's Janet?" Ma: "In the HOSpital." No one can make you feel foolish like your mother, even when you've already called the freaking hospital and no one has answered Janet's alleged phone. I told my mother about my friend and the herb patch debacle, and she just said " That's the Stupid Gene. They've all got it." Me: "All of them?" Ma: "Every last one. If I've taught you anything, it's that they all have it to a greater or lesser extent." Me: Really? Ma: "Yep." I called my friend back and told her what my mom had said about every man that ever was, and she laughed and said "She's right. I'm hoping my son doesn't have it, but it may be too much to hope for." Who knew?

The women in my life make me laugh. A lot.

Try calling my sister again, who's wandered back to her hospital bed and who sounds better today (Woo Hoo!). I decided to celebrate Christmas a little early and have a glass of wine, looked at the clock, and it was almost 7 PM. Never sent that tune list for Sunday (Project No. 2). Sh**!

The email men deliver a batch of tunes to look at. Print and read through. Look at the clock, it's 8:30. Who knew?

Time to think about dinner...

Still Grateful After All These Years

In our last episode, I posited the following: How many things in this life conspire to support us in our work, and encourage (or push) us along the way? It seems there's been a fair amount of both encouragement and shoving to get me here. 


Today's trio of support, encouragement, and pushing begins with our musician (Hey, that's me!) living in a big red barn in Lansing, NY, owned by Cora Kay Breary. Cora was at least 80 and still sang soprano in the choir led by George Damp at St. John's, Ithaca, NY. I also sang in the choir, was about 20 years old, and had no idea what to do with my life. I needed a place to stay, and Cora needed some help on the farm, so I moved into her partially renovated barn in late summer and helped out through the following spring. 

The barn had a wood stove, a great room, a sleeping loft with a seasonal view of the Cayuga river, and no running water. There were red, white, and black raspberries, elderberries, English and Black Walnut trees, a bunch of fruit trees, chickens, and two cranky old goats (there was another one besides Cora). I learned more about myself, farm living, and hard work than I had ever known. One lesson was how to work the stove so I didn't freeze. Another was how to kill a chicken, but I didn't have the stomach for that.

It was a long, cold winter, and I remember Easter's being early that following spring because there was still a fair amount of snow on the ground after church on Good Friday. I came up the driveway and spotted a large box leaning between the doors of the barn. I received few packages, so I figured it was a mistake, but when I got closer, I saw that it was addressed to me. It was from a music store in Virginia, but besides my aunt Carmen, I didn't know anyone in Virginia. Aunt Carmen had never sent me anything, so I was stumped. I picked up the box, which was triangular (what could that mean?), and took it inside. I don't remember the sequence of events, whether I fired up the stove, or even took off my boots, but I do recall spending every free minute for months afterward playing the cool, black, acoustic Epiphone guitar that popped out of that box.

Turns out I'd been to a retreat with Walter Wink some months earlier at Kirkridge Retreat and Study Center in eastern PA, and had met some people from Richmond, VA. I didn't really pay much attention to where they were from at the time, but on the Saturday night of the retreat, a bunch of us had parked ourselves in front of the fire and played and sang folk songs all night. I didn't own a guitar, so I was just singing along with everyone else, when someone asked the guitar player if he knew some song or other, which he didn't, but I did. So he handed over the guitar and we sang for three more hours. I hadn't played guitar in quite a while, and wasn't old enough to be very good, but I played a lot that night and we had a great time. I didn't think anything more about it until Cornelia Keller of Richmond, VA - my very first patron - conspired to send me a guitar. 


You never know what those gods are conspiring to do, but I'm pretty sure you can think of something.  
  
This fall I'll be returning to Kirkridge to lead a Sound as Prayer Retreat on October 29-31. Click on the title to visit the Kirkridge website, or look up the Sound as Prayer Retreat on Facebook . I'd love to sing with you.