Stones

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.'

Stones

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

white

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.