What is a siren?

For those of you that do not read Homer or Virgil, sirens are characters in the Odyssey. They sang while ships passed, but they sang so well, no one could resist their songs' lure.

My all-girl band "Sirens' Song" has been writing and performing together for 14 years. We are currently recording our 3rd cd, 'Safe Harbour.'

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Butterfly wings

I know the title of the post is a bit girlie...bear with me. It will make sense in a minute.

It has been a while since I have written anything. The muse has been pretty silent, and maybe my creativity just sort of dies when I am under stress. But lately I have been more inspired. That is a good thing. usually January is very prolific, maybe it will be March this year.

So the week has been a bit strange. I have been ill. The weather is beautiful outside, so it has been a bit of a bummer to be sick. I found out some really bad news from a good friend, news I really could do nothing about, so I just cried. Then I found out news that I could do something about, and instead of crying I mobilized.

I am not good at many things. Yes, creatively I am pretty good, otherwise, not so much.

But I can mobilize people to action. I feel passionate about things, so I act. Sometimes I act impulsively, but sometimes the actions are the right thing to do. Somewhere in the back of my mind I am thinking "get it done! get it done!" And Voila! It gets done. (ok so I work like a dog to get it done, it just seems like magic.)

So the week started with my friends' baby dying. She has lost several babies, some have been born and died, some miscarriages. One baby they adopted and she had to return due to the birth mom changing her mind. They have fostered kids, they have prayed for their own. Yesterday I started crying again, the invitation to her baby shower came. It was mailed before the baby was born and died. I was sad.

Then I got a message from another friend, she was in dire straits. Her husband had left her, bills were due, children were hungry (she has an autistic son, her kids are kindergarten and preschool age) and she was desperate.

I knew no matter what I could not bring that baby back to life, nor could I give my first friend the child of her heart. Helpless..hapless...all I could do was cry. But my second friend, well, that was something I could help. Crying wouldn't fix it, but I could do something. Something radical. Something compassionate. Something driven by my helplessness and passion. And love.

So I raised money yesterday for her. Paid her bills, bought her things and raised enough for groceries as well. Passion and compassion took hold. The first friend in her grief and suffering caused me to relieve someone else's suffering.

MAGIC=radical passionate compassionate LOVE.

Not sure what that says- except I wish every time I suffered in life I could channel it to help others. Not sure why this time was the exception. Not sure why I was the vehicle. I am just glad I was.

So Olivia, if you are reading this..YOU are the reason I helped this little family. My compassion for you drove me to action.

The post, like I said- is very girlie..but the reason the song is called butterfly wings, is because Olivia, (the mom of the baby that passed,) loves butterflies. It is representative of her children that she will see again. While on earth they are caterpillars, waiting to break from the cocoons. In the next life, she will see them perfected. When we choose to break from the cocoon on earth, we show love perfected. I think it is time to be done with our 'caterpillar selves' and learn to fly.

South of the border, down by the sea

Under the orange colored sky

there are monarchs rising, up on the wing

Taking their springtime flight

And I saw as the night pushed the sun

Into the ocean, into the foam

but the butterflies were rising free

Making their way back home

Sing out to the ocean

sing out to the sea

there are wings flying and rising free

Sing out to the tide

Sing out to the wind

sing out until day begins again.

Life and all its troubles it seems

are passing away like the light

and we will make our way home again

Like those butterflies in the night

In the depths of the winter, on a cold clear night

I will bend my ear again

and hear the beating of butterflies' wings

Rising out on the wind.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

You are my Song

I have known several people recently that are struggling in relationships and trying to find some sort of restoration. This parable was written for them.

Music: A modern day parable.

Once upon a time there was a man and a woman. They sat around a record player that was playing an energetic song. Both the man and woman both said "I could listen to this song forever!"
So they played it over and over. The song played and played..it played at their wedding.

And they were happy.

So time went by and the woman said "Hey, let's start listening to lullabies!" So they did. The song played over and over on the record player. They loved the new songs.

And they were happy.

After a while the man said "I am so tired of lullabies. What happened to the old song?" But he was not going to ask to change the record. He knew the woman loved the lullaby.

Then the woman started thinking as well. "I am so tired of lullabies. Why don't we get a new song?" But she was afraid to ask the man.

By and by the man changed the song to a working song. The woman could not relate. She thought it was depressing, harsh and long. Although she did not want the lullaby anymore.

So it happened that she discovered a new music. She played it in her room quietly. It seemed to her the man had no interest in her music, so she never invited him to listen. The man was sad. He wanted to learn the new music, but the woman hogged the record player, and never asked him to join her.

After a while, they played music in other parts of the house. The man grew madder. The woman, sadder. They both wished they had not misplaced the original record.

The woman looked and looked all around for that fun song they once loved. The one that played at their wedding. But the record was gone.

One day the man asked the woman if she wanted to go to the record store with him.

To his surprise, she said yes.

At the store, they found hundreds of albums, new songs and old. They chose a few and took them home to try out. There were fast, slow, loud, soft, long and short songs. There was pop and urban music, reggae, bluegrass and country. There was alternative and Christian music. There was an entire world of music that neither had ever experienced.

The man and the woman realized something. Their connection did not come from a song. They did not have to always listen to the same record over and over. And they did not always have to like the same music. All they really had to do was to share the song that the heart sings. And the Heart's song is, and always will be, Love.

And the man and the woman were happy.

You Are My Song

Come ride with me in the morning
Come sail with me in the dawn
You will have music where ever you go
For I am the singer and you are the song

Come wake with me in the springtime
Before the summer world stirs
Come and sing our song to the waking wind
For I am the music and you are the words
I'll shout your name to the heavens
Share the love you bring
You are the words and the music...
You are the song I sing

come climb with me over mountains
Come ride with me to the moon
Let us listen to love and follow it's lead
For I am the player and you are the tune

In the still and the silent dawn
A thousand angels of fame
They are bursting forth in sweetest song
Every time I speak your name.
Every time I speak your name.

Friday, January 22, 2010


I have been watching my son play his new Wii game system this evening. The racetrack he was using was in space...he kept falling off and burning up in the atmosphere. It was funny, as the little mario-kart immediately regenerated and resumed the race.

The burn was brief...it made me think of shooting stars or meteors. (we just finished a space project for the science fair, so they are on my mind.) It also made me think of how many things don't last. So much of life is made of the temporal. I find it a bit sad at times...as I am a fast burn kind of gal. I love to burn as bright as I can, but find that is a state hard to maintain. It requires enormous energy and often makes me depressed, as I need more and more to make me happy. It is nice to have friends and a husband that keep me grounded and stable. thank goodness.

And it is nice when you encounter a friendship that endures.

So I spoke to one of these wonderful friends today. (she is of the mermaids) She is getting serious with her guy. They are in love. She thinks he is the 'one' and he thinks the same of her.
I was so happy for her. She is not a shooting star kind of gal. She is more the steady slow-burn type. But what a blessing that she is happy. (he is lucky.)

So, of course, came the song. I think that some people are more steady than others. Unlike when Evita sang of " burning with the splendor of the brightest star," some stars shine just as well, but less brightly. Enduring and stable...they last.

That describes my friend, my mermaid sister. And I think she has found her match. Enduring: they will shine together.

I miss you, my friend. A million blessings from the sea.


Twilight falls
And the color of night is etched onto my window
stars recalled
Lighting the night with silver and purple follows.
Until tomorrow.

Shooting stars burn for a moment.
Meteors are passing fair
But you and I will burn forever
In the silky night-time air
Stardust, we are stardust.

Light returns
The moon is a crescent, she is lying on clouds in the sky
Ocean churns
And the stars guide our way through the paths of the tide
With you by my side

I thought I needed shooting stars
And meteors, too
but I found that what I need is stardust
And babe, that is me and you...

Dawn is here
And the sky breaks apart without a warning
Tell the moon
Goodbye... but know that the stardust will linger through morning..
Seasons enduring.

Shooting stars burn for a moment
Meteors are passing fair
But you and I will burn forever
In the silky night-time air
Stardust, We are stardust.....

Monday, November 16, 2009


My weekend was great. A trip with a dear friend to a great place. We shared our old memories, then shared the wisdom 20 years can bring to a life. We are the same. We are different. We are wiser, older. Etched with time and care, love and loss. As Robert often says,
'It is not the age, it is the mileage.' And so it also goes with friendships.

So we sat Sunday morning, together. No words. At the tomb of the unknown soldier in Arlington National Cemetery. As the clicks of the heels rang in the silence, the sun was very intense and hot for November. The cloudless sky was bright blue. The leaves were falling.

The moment really cannot be expressed in words. The leaves were really the key. Like golden rain, or embers falling. They shimmered. They sang. It was a tribute to the fallen. As though they were symbols of the lives that were given in glory, in war, in service. My tears rained down, too.

I cried because of the lives given for me. My freedom. How I would feel if it were Ryan guarding, clicking his heels, carrying the gun with the bayonet. And my feelings about the tomb if Ryan were resting underneath its' marble base. Thinking about the unknown soldiers' sacrifice..I cried more. The guard turned toward us, and looked straight at me with my tear-stained face. He was incredibly young. I felt a surge of pride for him. And for America.

The guard changed. As we turned to go, more leaves rained down in a shower of gold. As the fall slips into the winter, the stones will remember the gold tribute nature which nature provided that day for the fallen. May we never forget the tribute they made with their lives, as they 'fell like embers.'


Red and gold they shimmer down
Setting fire to the ground
leaves that smolder on the ground
while lighting up the sky

Stones are cold as fire ignites
Rows and rows of stones in white
Stones they whisper to the night
With voices soft and cold.

Red and green, and blue is seen
Yellow is falling in between
And stones are white and still and clean
As the voices sigh

Trees are bare, the sky is gray
Remembering the yesterday
When embers fell, Like soldiers they
Sacrificing true.

So gather up the leaves of gold
their story as it should be told
Of fallen ones, the soldiers bold
Sleeping, sleeping.
Their memory keeping.
Under stones of white.
And tributes of gold.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Indigo Child

Daylight savings time is over and the days are shorter now..the night falls quickly and the sun is up early. Unfortunately today it did not help me, and I overslept slightly.

But Ryan, like the special sweet responsible guy he is wakes me up. Tells me "Mom its after 6:30! I am already ready and dressed." A being that is 10 years old is a constant blessing in the Heil house.

For those that don't know Ryan, he has overcome many many challenges and is a source of great pride to me. He is not academic. Has many learning problems. He has a disorder that makes him zone out and stare. Asks too many questions, the same questions over and over. He has had unreasonable fears, doubts, and problems. He needed years of therapy to overcome the physical challenges, and the emotional. I was told he would never swim, never learn to ride a bike, never walk a balance beam without falling. He proved them wrong. He compensated and can do all of those things, and ace the rest of the 5th graders around the track. He is a living breathing example of determination and will, and amazing grace.

I have spent my entire life achieving what I perceived as greatness. Always the next thing, the next win, the next big goal reached. I was always striving for more, and I really thought that in achieving more I would be more worthy of love. I needed to be the smartest, prettiest, most accomplished or I was worth nothing.

Then God gave me Ryan and I realized that we are worthwhile simply because we are.

Ryan has amazing talents. He can include people and integrate groups of kids. He has an intuition about people and can actually feel their feelings. He is sensitive and wonderful, and everyone that meets him usually loves him, from senior citizens all the way down to two-year- old's. A feat that I cannot duplicate. I am not sensitive to others' feelings the way he is. Where I am pushy he is open, where I am aggressive he is giving. He shows me that I am not the way I should be. It is humbling. I am grateful.

So I went to dinner with a friend. I was telling her about Ryan, and she said "oh he must be an indigo child." I didn't know what that was, but apparently there are children with a high level of intuition, spirit sensitivity lacking in the rest of us. They are the ones that bring peace to groups and to the world. I don't know if Ryan is, but I loved the idea and decided it would make a wonderful song.

So I dedicate this to Ryan and to all children that are trying to make the world better by being exactly who they are. Sensitive, free, wild, peace-filled and full of love.

Indigo Child

Roll with the Wind down to the sea
Go to the place where the stars want to be
Reflect your light down on the sand
Turn your face to silver strand

Color of ocean, color of night
Your color was made, crystal and bright
So stay free, young and wild
Beautiful one, my indigo child

Don't you let your colors fade
From the deep deep blue to shades of gray
Ultramarine rich and free
Becoming what you were intended to be

Roll out with the winter wind
Light the Auroras and let it begin
Clear as the night on the solstice you rise
Winter is brought by the indigo child

Color of ocean, color of night
Your color was made crystal and bright
So stay free young and wild
Beautiful one, my indigo child.
Beautiful one, my indigo child.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Take a Leap

Haven't blogged in several months. It has been a busy time, the move and new house, friends, stores, and a new town to navigate. Many, many days spent at the pool for Ryan and me. A new school and adjusting. Starting over somewhere new is exciting, so the songs have been slow in coming. Concentrated time to think creates the environment for songs..and time is a commodity I simply have not had.

Before the move people were always asking us "why would you want to just leave for the sake of leaving?" Which is a great question.

The answer lies somewhere between what I need and what I want. I want familiarity and an easy time. I want non stressed filled days of just playing guitar and singing. At least I think I want it.

But my need is 'purpose. ' A chance to change a life. A chance to let go of the familiar and step into the unknown. A chance to create something great. A chance to go forward and see what the next chapter holds. The page turner is better with a cliffhanger. The chapter is done and you cant wait for the sequel. It is where I find myself. Both excited and nervous and ready to go mach 3 with my hair on fire. Knowing the status quo is not going to work for me, (it never has. )
As Helen Keller once said "Life is a thrilling adventure, or nothing."

So there I am. Acting too young. Living too loud and not being afraid of giving myself away. And so I open the much anticipated sequel to the book of my life. It will come highly recommended...a real page-turner.

Take a Leap

I think I'll act too young today.
Go outside and run and play.
Go to the neighbors', make a friend.
and never want the day to end.

I think I'll go to fast in my car,
And maybe throw in my guitar
And play some hookey on the beach...
Let the waves wash over me.

I think I'm not going to look both ways
I think I'll just step out on faith,
The cliff is tall , and I can't see
I'll shut my eyes and take a leap.

I'll talk to strangers on the street
and take the time when our eyes meet.
To see them in a different way....
and see if it comes back in spades.

I think I'm gonna break a rule..
And live out loud and not on cue.
Try not to think before I speak..
And say I love you more than once a week.

I think I'll take a risk today
And give part of myself away.
The cliff is high and I cant see...
So I'll just shut my eyes and take a leap.
Shut my eyes and take a leap.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Cerulean Blue

Just got back from mermaid weekend with the siren's. it is the same. It is always the same, easy friendship we have known. It is different, as we are older. The sun was bright and hot, the pool was clear and we had a great time. Rikie's daughter is becoming a 'person' and was much more involved in our weekend. I had to say goodbye to 3 mermaids this time..not just one. And my trip home was solitary. Things are changing. Time is passing.

Singing, eating, then singing some more. then a swim. mermaids do that.

Now I am uploading photos of 15 and 20 years ago. Robert is gone and I am up way way too late. But the memories are very vivid. I remember names and places and faces. it is exciting to share it and get feedback from people who feel as I do. That the connection is still there through the memory. Whatever our situation now, the colors in our memory are just as rich as ever.

My favorite color is turquoise. It has been my mom's favorite most of her life..the color of the ocean. And now it is my favorite. I like it best. Even though there are other colors that catch my eye, I always come back to that rich aqua color of a Caribbean sea.

even though there are memories of places, times and things..the people always hold the best spot in my memory. it makes me long to see those people. To reminisce and see what has changed and what has stayed the same. I don't want a time turner, maybe just a new pic or two of how we are now. I love change, but sometimes, Cerulean blue is best.

Cerulean Blue

I have always liked the Azure sky
but it always seems so high
Would rather have you here with me
closer than the sea...

I have always liked the color green
it seems so fresh and seems so clean
But dark sometimes can be the view
the sea is better for me and you.

Cerulean Blue
Always seems to remind me of you
the color of my memory
Cerulean's all I see.

I've always liked blue mountains high
Snow that is falling from the sky
clear waters flowing free
not so deep as my memory of

Cerulean Blue
Always seems to remind me of you
the color of my memory
Cerulean's all I see.

I have always liked the Yellow sun
Setting when the day is done
out over the western sea
Reflecting as it needs to be over

Cerulean Blue

the color of my memory.
cerulean's all i see
Cerulean's all I see.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

The Sea Wolf

I took my grandmother's mandolin out again today. I am trying to learn the tremolo, which is the rapid movement of the pick over the mandolin strings. Right now, it is not going so well. I have the chording down somewhat, but the tremolo is so difficult. A practiced hand with a mandolin is so wonderful to listen to. Unfortunately, my hand needs more practice.

So much of who I am really is very similiar to who my grandmother was. Musician, people person and friend, she was a light to the people that knew her. Her heritage is passed to me, and I must continue her musical legacy. Her other great-grandaughter, also a namesake, (Libby) has I think inherited a few musical genes as well.....but time will tell her gifts. We are all products of our heritage, whether we embrace that or not.

We recently went on a video shoot (our first!) for our Safe Harbour song. A fellow named Scott Self took us out on his handmade spanish wood boat. A sailboat. A work of art. A labor of love.
His heritage belongs to the sea, and the people that dwelled by the cliffs in England. Pressed into military service, they refused, and lived along the shoreline, fishermen and scavengers. They would mobilize for sea rescues, and were referred to as 'Sea Wolfs.' The Sea Wolfs sailed to America for a better life, and while settling in the Gulf coast city of Galveston, their surname was shortened to 'Self.' The last name of Self is the most common in that area. Our Captain that day, Scott Self, and the boat was called the "Sea Wolf."

The girls and I thought it appropriate that we write Scott a song, and dedicate it to the Sea Wolfs of the past, and the present. Our own ties to the sea provide a nice, fitting background for a tribute.

Sea wolf
Lend me your ear and I'll tell you my tale
Of my people from England whose eyes looked for sails
From Lands End to Portsmouth they looked to the seas
For wreckage to plunder; their hard lives to ease

Set sail, oh Seawolf, to lands far away
To a new port of call and a bright temperate day
This new land brings promise we never have known
a place to call our home

The journey was long and the waves were so high
But a new day of promise was fresh on their minds
Deciding to press on through the foam
They were trying to find a place to call home

So I hear them tonight on the sea
The voice of my people and time’s mystery
Saying ‘fly on the sea wolf, and claim our fame’
‘Remember our spirit, remember our name’

We will sail on the Seawolf to lands far away
To new ports of call, and bright temperate days
This new land brings promise we never have known
A place to call our home.

copyright 2008, LeighAnn Heil

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Safe Harbour

I am blind as a bat without my contact lenses on. Resistant to lasik, I take my contacts out each night and wake to a fuzzy day. then I put the contacts back on and things come back into focus.

I also have problems at night, especially out on the highway, when the headlights have a starburst effect and my eyes become tired. There is nothing like those lights on the horizon though..late at night, when you spot the lights of the city. You know you are almost home.

If anyone knows me they also know I love traveling to and on the water...boats, beaches, oceans. I love riding those waves and feeling that spray. ( if you dont know, just read a few songs.) The imagery of the ocean is really endless. Poets use it and the imagery of boats to represent our passage through life. Alfred Lord Tennyson uses the boat through his poem 'crossing the bar' to represent the passage from life to life after death:

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
........For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

It has been a murky passage lately. Unclear, unsure. Frustrating. Listening carefully for the Spirit to speak and only hearing silence. Hearing healing prayers answered, but silence for purpose. The air is still, no compass, no direction. Fog everywhere, and no sun in sight.

Perhaps there is a point in everyone's life where they feel adrift on a sea.. The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner says it well.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean

there have been times I have wondered where I am going. what I am doing. and whom I should be doing it with. All of these things are important. But when we cannot see those things clearly, we can rest assured there is a final harbor. A destination where we will anchor and live forever. A place where our purpose is clear and nothing is hidden any longer.

Our creator is guiding us there, (whether the wind blows us or not.) To a place where none of us will need our glasses...For we shall see Him as He is.

Safe Harbour
written for Ainsley Floyd, 2008

who knows where the cold wind blows when the winter goes away?
who knows why the young get old and sail out on their way?
who can say whether fair or storm will guide you in the wind?
You can know wherever you go you can find your home again.

Angel when you spread you sails
And fly like wings in the wind
Dont you fear for I'll not fail
To help you find, your safe harbour again.

Who knows what castaways
you will take aboard?
who knows what treasures gold
Of an ancient pirate hoard

who can say if you will travel far
or sail in ports near home
But I will say wherever you go
you will never go alone.

Who can say whether fate will lead us
Far away from shores we know
If the compass fails or the skies turn red
Or if the weather will hold?

And who knows what you may find
when your journey meets its end?
But I will say a safe harbour awaits
My angel and my friend

Angel when you spread your sails
And fly like wings in the wind
Dont you fear for I'll not fail
To help you find....your safe harbour again.
copywrite 2008, LeighAnn Heil

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Quiet Peace

My husband loves TV. He likes it loud. He likes News, loud. very loud.

I am not a big TV watcher. when he is gone it is off. I dont really like TV, other than just on lightly in the background. i would rather play guitar, write songs or listen to music. but he loves the noise, it stimulates the learning processing part of His brain.

sometimes I just want peace.

Peace in the silence. Peace in the still. Peace to hear the Father's voice.

Sometimes I also just want peace, in that the trouble stops for a while. We have ups and we have downs, it would be nice to occasionally have level. Just level smooth roads for several miles. It seems as though for my family, and the mermaids, and my friends.... it has been a while since things were smooth.

Mermaid number 2 is having problems with health, and more problems at work. She has taken a stand for the right, and is suffering. Mermaid number 4 has taken on the problems of a needy family, and is suffering. Mermaid number 3 is pregnant and it is risky, she is tired and is suffering. We would all dearly love the peace that comes when we are together, singing and laughing.

but for now we hold to the faith we all share. We know that peace is there in our friendships and our God. We know that around the corner is time together. that quiet peace we look for is close.

I wrote this song for Mermaid number 3's baby, still currently in utero. but the meaning transcends the Mom, baby and Ainsley.... the song is also God's love song, father to daughter. He calls the Angels to sing, He who whispers "peace" over us, and it is He rocks us gently home at the end.

Quiet Peace
written for Autumn Floyd, 2009

The night is dark, the winters howling.
The fire burns brightly while I sing.
And I rock you gently, upon the water
The river of my love, flowing free

I will rock you on the water,
I will rock you on the sea,
And you will hear an angel singing,
She’s singing “sleep now” quiet peace.

The woods are deep, the road is long.
I cannot say, where it will go…
But my love is always, never-ending
Like rivers melting, after the snow

The world is dark and large and lonely
There’s love and danger everywhere,
But my love runs deeper, than any ocean
Call out to the water, and find me there….

When you find love, and you find adventure
And when you find yourself, all alone
Go to the shoreline, and feel the waves wash you…
And my love will rock you, safely home.

I will rock you on the water
I will rock you on the sea
And you will hear the angel singing
She is singing " sleep now "
Quiet peace.
LeighAnn Heil, 2009

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

The Space Between

Taking the get well card out of my purse, I dont know what to do with it now. It is addressed "mitzi." Cant bring myself to throw it away, and I cant open it up. It is frozen in time now, and I must purchase a sympathy card.

Weird feelings flood me, she really was so so young. Wow, I am almost her age. And bam, she has gone. Then there are the regrets, I was on my way to the hospital to see her. I was in town by chance. I was there the day before but didnt find the time to go in. The phone call came, and my plans and my card are for naught.

That space between this life and the next is such a challenge. Do I have faith enough. Do I love God enough to trust that someday, I will be able to say "hey, girl!" to Mitzi in person. Do I know the Comforter enough to let Him comfort me, or will I be ruled by regret?

The chasm and the space between God and us....it is fathomless and no one has seen it, but the Father and the son. He must have reached through the temples of time and seen it, known there was no way across for us. Lost, lost to ourselves. to death. Death and separation forever from the one who made us.

but fortunately I will be crossing over that space, and I will see the people that I care about who have gone on. I will see Mitzi and Kari and Gary and Kim and many others. i will use the bridge that Jesus made for me so very long ago.

I, for one, am glad he reached across, and saved us.

The Space between

There is a picture in a chapel
On a Roman Ceiling
And the story it is telling
Is the story of you and me

For If you look up you can see
Adam reaching across
That ceiling Michaelangelo painted…
Every hopeful never dross..

So close but so far
I just have to get to where you are
If we can get beyond the times we have seen
Then we can reach across
The space between

There is a deep ravine that I can see
With no way to get around
So If you want to reach the other side you must use
The rope bridge far above the ground.. .

We got a past, I know it is true
There are photographs of me and photographs of you
But if we will turn back the page of history
We can find those pictures of you and me.

So close, but so far..I just have to get to where you are
If we can get beyond those times we have seen...
then we can reach across the space between.

Friday, January 9, 2009


the thursday challenge for this week, color. Unfortunately, that title is in so many songs, it was a distraction for me earlier today, as it was for Hilary. We lose focus when "blue eyes cryin in the rain" is playing in a perpetual loop.

I thought of all kinds of colors today. My favorite is turquoise, but that doesnt rhyme very well. Red is nice, but over used. I tried several colors. Then I settled on one and started to write.

Once I got focused, the song came easily, a tune came readily and in 15 min...I had a song.

I dont know why I struggle so much. I struggle for control, struggle to "fix" things. Struggle with my child, struggle with my time. Struggle to achieve. It is so much work, exhausting, really. Uses my energy and makes me unhappy. I do "what I do not want to do," just like Paul.

You would think I would learn the lesson from my songwriting..relax and let go. Focus and find freedom. Release and you can get "in the flow." Only then the song arrives. As the wind blows the cold front in outside, I regret that tomorrow will be 30 degrees when today was 80, but it is fruitless to struggle against the wind. Winter will have its way, granted only by the Creator.

I chose the color white. Pure and clean. The rider on the white horse. white robes, pure like linen. Where we can place our focus and everything makes sense. And so I will relinquish my control and stop struggling. He is the ultimate songwriter anyway. Everything else is just noise.

Winter White, Winter White
Winter Cold and clean and bright
Send the snow and dark deep sky
winter bring your song

Winter cold and winter white
Windy days and starry nights
Time for hope and time for cheer
Winter bring your song

A winter song flows on the wind
and makes the year begin again
The frost will thaw and spring will come
So winter sing your song

winter dark and winter dear
Winter white is cold and clear
Gleaming days and silvery nights
Sing sweet winter white

See the frost perched on the ground
and the snow falling like down
Like feathers from the northern sky
Sing sweet winter white
Sing sweet winter white.