We are all shifting after shedded skins flaked off and fell to the Earth. I have missed many actions, places to meet friends for food, friendship, atmosphere, and family of choice. Shedding old patterns inside and out.
Intention is everything. Action makes it manifest. In this new era I have learned to ask for help and for what I want. Other than human touch what I missed was music. Live, heart-opening, foot-tapping, get up and move live music. For many summers I have hosted the top vintage and soon-to-be known musicians in my gardens. I am honored to have renowned players grace me with their vibrations.
Here in 2020 it became a bit complicated to create a safe space for all. Social distancing on the deck and throughout the gardens needed many minds. Alexander Barker, architect, provided the garden map with paths and settings delineated. I had the exceptional pleasure of being in my gardens daily for many spring moments not witnessed before. No planes, no teaching, no fame. Simply offering my hands to the Earth.
Rick Ashley photographed seat groupings and numbered the map and views of possible seating arrangements. Jaime Jancosek and Roger helped place cushions on all the chairs, rockers, and benches before and after the concert. Plants bloomed and drooped fecund in nectar and color and sensuality. Daily surprises, scents, and pleasures. Phew! Mailings and PR by my Social Media Goddess Beth Anne Mwano.
Ralph Rosen the percussion and harmonica player arrived, his first time here. Then Bob Nieske and his bass, hurray! Joe Mullholland moments later. It was a bit like a wedding. So much preparation and then the beauties arrive all nervous and excited. Forgotten mask? No problem. Beauty and practicality made by Johnny Was, ordered aplenty to share, from me, my designer of flowers and fun, now gifted and worn. Everyone looks great in flowers.
Nervous, Me too. Water and cool drinks were arranged, all the equipment plugged in. When the percussionist forgets wire brushes there is always something to use nearby, so as I looked back saying “I’ll look in the shed for my whisk broom” my flip flop (aptly named) slipped off the step and I spun, one leg landed two steps down, spun and the other foot hit the landing as I flew (picture that) onto the stones of the garden below. My goodness. Three men in unison demanded I stay still. Breathe and evaluate. No blood, nothing broken, didn’t hit my head. Didn’t pee my undies, much.
I do constantly give thanks to my gifted Cardiologist, Howard Waldman, who insisted I turn all the sharp rocks over. “Look around you, is anything sharp you might fall on?” No impaled body parts.
Yup, fine, sat up, rubbed everything, and rose up. How difficult it must have been for three wonderful men to simply look on as I rose. COVID boundaries. No helping, no touching, and six feet apart.
Up, off and into the shed for the wee whisk broom. To the house for Arnica and a dose of Yarrow.
People had pre-paid, reserved the well-designed seating arrangements, everyone on time, masked, healthy and it went absolutely perfectly! The guys began to play and my heart did that clenching it does when I feel deeply. The second or third song was a ballad and I just let the tears fall. Huge, relentless tears of joy. Healing the hearts of all of us who love music and resonant expression. No-one had heard live music with their kin, their people of the heart, for months and more months.
Between tunes, Joe introduces a song, John Lewis’ arrangement of Afternoon in Paris, and our story, the birthday party on the Canal for Rosita Arvigo, he and Jean Labee arriving with cake, a great bottle of Champagne and much celebration with eight wild women including Tracy Ulmann, great conversation the synchronicity of there being a piano in our flat, about that incredible city, beauty at every corner, the people, men who dress with scarves and hips that strut a statement.
The great transformation of Margi. The falling away of Margi who was and the birth of Margi who is. And here I am, organizing, gathering to create what I want. Play your heart, connect, and react to each other, be, be human. Here in the birdsong and flutter of petals and fronds. Be. Progress. Vibrations of life. Paris to Scotland and love manifest in all-new ways from then after. I am changed, evolved and tender as a bud urging outward to light, to love, to the vibrations from inner Earth and connected to all.
There was a ripple at some point, of realization that I was surrounded by humans, my lovely hidden kingdom filled and amazing music reaching shade and light, a sense of almost awkwardness to have so many near me.
The people have exited through the gate, to homes, no mingling. Joe wells up with huge round tears and I cry and we can’t resist a hug. There is an unbearable lacking, physical contact, hugs, closeness, camaraderie that is no longer acceptable. COVID life. We hug, for I would rather die than live without human connection. Risk. Yes, responsibly and with choice. My soul is happy. A hug with breaths, (masked) Toltec, I will carry you in my breath forever, you breathe in as I breathe out, I carry you with me….
We are wearing COVID skins now. Barriers like a bubble keep us apart. Pods and isolation, for darn good reasons, even if the Orange One is an idiot. Yes, I will follow rules most minutes while breathing to live. In this moment, no, the right and good thing is to hug and feel human with humans.
The planes fly lower and no one notices. The noise of cars is steady again, the Busy Busy has returned. In response, I fall, spinning with momentum quite literally. Twice now. Slow down and pay attention.
The herbs are here to support me. Jaime to remind me. My age to sometimes scare me. Alone and not what I really want. My bar so high now. For I have known great love and the vibration, the music played by souls connected and will never settle again. Only the best musicians, the highest vibrations will enter my being. I choose to be fully alive, vital, intelligent, and thought-provoking, co-resonant with my beloved, who I draw to me magnetically, for I have known this and choose to be this, I want this all my days, vitally alive and juicy and I call you through my gate! Now.
Now the garden is empty. Couples and all people have gone home. I sit and write to you, for you are the ear who listens. Let my desire ripple out. Play, live in genuine resonance, I can never go back for I have blossomed into the me I am meant to be.