Blackberry Bushes come to Beerlin

Blackberry Bushes come to Beerlin http://ceraimpala.com/blog.cfm Tue, 13 Dec 2011 22:25:00 GMT http://bandzoogle.com Tinsel, trees, & trash-bins a Ho-Ho-Holiday romp http://ceraimpala.com/blog.cfm?feature=2316424&postid=1615252     Well the season is upon us, on top of us, dining at our table nearly uninvited and yes-- most folks would do anything to slip out from under the gooses axe right about now. Time as it would seem is running out! The economy is in ruin, Rick Perry is a powerful rich guy and The Mayan calendar begins in mere weeks to tick-tock tick-tock! Not to mention no one has a clue how to act around their own mother, sister, old friend or dreaded ex.  Let's be fair though, there is polio vaccine, indoor plumbing and if you are reading this, chances are you ate something today and were provided shelter with wi-fi to boot.      ahh but stress is as stress does. We must enthusiastically wash it, dry it, and comb into a managable and presentable shape, for now, for mom. (and don't mention the tattoo!) In truth, since I live on the other side of the planet , I have much less to worry about than I used to. It's pretty nice really,  I have happily avoided the notion of social obligation and in my adult life I have taken up the practice of celebrating Solstice instead.  It's not just for the sake of convienience though, ...it's my truth.  This Truth bam-bam-banged on the door incessantly for a number of years before I answered it. For me, the "knock-knock" "who's there?" was the "er,..hello, it's me the Law of the land". Not our land, or any land that man can claim , name and spray with Monsanto's Round-up ready- but the true wild land, and the nothing-but-noble voice of it's residents; trees, plants, birds and rare beasts. Much like Santa- the real magic of these spaces resides within us, without us and responds to us positvely when we are good.      If you need any evidence that the world is a cooky misguided place, look no further than the dumpster bins lining every street in every state in suburbia shortly after the big bang of new years. Who can walk by these swollen overfilled crates of memories with half dead young fir trees that never had a chance- and NOT heave a perplexed sigh? What a way to celebrate the birth of the christ-child, but by killing a tree-child... what a way indeed.  so Bah- humbug to that.  There I said it.  The "rudolf ralph" (as I like to call it) or the christmas binge, and tinsel purge is a very real and tragic metaphor for the way modern life has gone.  Our need to bring nature to us, and our lack of ability to respectfully go into it with wonder, light  and love is alarming at best, and a failure to make good on our promise to maintain the earth's creature's at worst.         When I was 17 I first had the pleasure of listening to Dar Williams, and later saw her live at my college campus. Enchanted by her non-pretentiousness and sweet simplicity, storytelling and wit,  i went to get my CD signed.  For a brief moment, I saw a piece of my future self in her,  and and remember thinking, 'now there's a gal after my own heart!'.  She gave me the strength to be more me than I was willing to let others see.  She gave me hope that strength doesn't always dress to kill, and sometimes has a flower in it's hair. At the time I was embarking upon a life in the big apple, New York, abandoning my normal west-coast thrift store attire for a "chic" pleather jacket, tall black boots and facial expression to match. I'm not sure that I ever pulled it off.  Now that I'm in my 30's I wear what I like, and I like what I wear. Of course I'll still try anything once- be it instrument, color, food, look, sitting nook or pair of sunglasses... magic is in the learning. Ms Williams wrote the  "Christians and the Pagans" about a holiday misadventure with her family.  Here are the words of this disarming piece:     Amber called her uncle, said "We're up here for the holiday Jane and I were having Solstice, now we need a place to stay" And her Christ-loving uncle watched his wife hang Mary on a tree He watched his son hang candy canes all made with red dye number three He told his niece, "It's Christmas eve, I know our life is not your style" She said, "Christmas is like Solstice, and we miss you and it's been awhile" So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able And just before the meal was served, hands were held and prayers were said Sending hope for peace on earth to all their gods and goddesses The food was great, the tree plugged in, the meal had gone without a hitch Till Timmy turned to Amber and said, "Is it true that you're a witch?" His mom jumped up and said, "The pies are burning," and she hit the kitchen And it was Jane who spoke, she said, "It's true, your cousin's not a Christian" "But we love trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere" So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able And where does magic come from, I think magic's in the learning Cause now when Christians sit with Pagans only pumpkin pies are burning When Amber tried to do the dishes, her aunt said, "Really, no, don't bother" Amber's uncle saw how Amber looked like Tim and like her father He thought about his brother, how they hadn't spoken in a year He thought he'd call him up and say, "It's Christmas and your daughter's here" He thought of fathers, sons and brothers, saw his own son tug his sleeve saying "Can I be a Pagan?" Dad said, "We'll discuss it when they leave" So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old, and Making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold   * May all your days be merry and full of Magic *   On Giving Kahlil Gibran You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give. For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow? And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city? And what is fear of need but need itself? Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable? There are those who give little of the much which they have--and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome. And there are those who have little and give it all. These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty. There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism. And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space. Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth. It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding; And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving. And is there aught you would withhold? All you have shall some day be given; Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'. You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving." The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish. Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights, is worthy of all else from you. And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream. And what desert greater shall there be, than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving? And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed? See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving. For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness. And you receivers... and you are all receivers... assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the freehearted earth for mother, and God for father.       Well the season is upon us, on top of us, dining at our table nearly uninvited and yes-- most folks would do anything to slip out from under the gooses axe right about now. Time as it would seem is running out! The economy is in ruin, Rick Perry is a powerful rich guy and The Mayan calendar begins in mere weeks to tick-tock tick-tock! Not to mention no one has a clue how to act around their own mother, sister, old friend or dreaded ex. Let's be fair though, there is polio vaccine, indoor plumbing and if you are reading this, chances are you ate something today and were provided shelter with wi-fi to boot.
ahh but stress is as stress does. We must enthusiastically wash it, dry it, and comb into a managable and presentable shape, for now, for mom. (and don't mention the tattoo!) In truth, since I live on the other side of the planet , I have much less to worry about than I used to. It's pretty nice really, I have happily avoided the notion of social obligation and in my adult life I have taken up the practice of celebrating Solstice instead. It's not just for the sake of convienience though, ...it's my truth. This Truth bam-bam-banged on the door incessantly for a number of years before I answered it. For me, the "knock-knock" "who's there?" was the "er,..hello, it's me the Law of the land". Not our land, or any land that man can claim , name and spray with Monsanto's Round-up ready- but the true wild land, and the nothing-but-noble voice of it's residents; trees, plants, birds and rare beasts. Much like Santa- the real magic of these spaces resides within us, without us and responds to us positvely when we are good.
If you need any evidence that the world is a cooky misguided place, look no further than the dumpster bins lining every street in every state in suburbia shortly after the big bang of new years. Who can walk by these swollen overfilled crates of memories with half dead young fir trees that never had a chance- and NOT heave a perplexed sigh? What a way to celebrate the birth of the christ-child, but by killing a tree-child... what a way indeed. so Bah- humbug to that. There I said it. The "rudolf ralph" (as I like to call it) or the christmas binge, and tinsel purge is a very real and tragic metaphor for the way modern life has gone. Our need to bring nature to us, and our lack of ability to respectfully go into it with wonder, light and love is alarming at best, and a failure to make good on our promise to maintain the earth's creature's at worst.
When I was 17 I first had the pleasure of listening to Dar Williams, and later saw her live at my college campus. Enchanted by her non-pretentiousness and sweet simplicity, storytelling and wit, i went to get my CD signed. For a brief moment, I saw a piece of my future self in her, and and remember thinking, 'now there's a gal after my own heart!'. She gave me the strength to be more me than I was willing to let others see. She gave me hope that strength doesn't always dress to kill, and sometimes has a flower in it's hair. At the time I was embarking upon a life in the big apple, New York, abandoning my normal west-coast thrift store attire for a "chic" pleather jacket, tall black boots and facial expression to match. I'm not sure that I ever pulled it off. Now that I'm in my 30's I wear what I like, and I like what I wear. Of course I'll still try anything once- be it instrument, color, food, look, sitting nook or pair of sunglasses... magic is in the learning.

Ms Williams wrote the "Christians and the Pagans" about a holiday misadventure with her family. Here are the words of this disarming piece:

Amber called her uncle, said "We're up here for the holiday
Jane and I were having Solstice, now we need a place to stay"
And her Christ-loving uncle watched his wife hang Mary on a tree
He watched his son hang candy canes all made with red dye number three
He told his niece, "It's Christmas eve, I know our life is not your style"
She said, "Christmas is like Solstice, and we miss you and it's been awhile"

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
And just before the meal was served, hands were held and prayers were said
Sending hope for peace on earth to all their gods and goddesses

The food was great, the tree plugged in, the meal had gone without a hitch
Till Timmy turned to Amber and said, "Is it true that you're a witch?"
His mom jumped up and said, "The pies are burning," and she hit the kitchen
And it was Jane who spoke, she said, "It's true, your cousin's not a Christian"
"But we love trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share
And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere"

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
And where does magic come from, I think magic's in the learning
Cause now when Christians sit with Pagans only pumpkin pies are burning

When Amber tried to do the dishes, her aunt said, "Really, no, don't bother"
Amber's uncle saw how Amber looked like Tim and like her father
He thought about his brother, how they hadn't spoken in a year
He thought he'd call him up and say, "It's Christmas and your daughter's here"
He thought of fathers, sons and brothers, saw his own son tug his sleeve saying
"Can I be a Pagan?" Dad said, "We'll discuss it when they leave"

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table
Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able
Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old, and
Making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold

* May all your days be merry and full of Magic *

On Giving
Kahlil Gibran

You give but little when you give of your possessions.
It is when you give of yourself that you truly give.
For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow?
And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself?
Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable?

There are those who give little of the much which they have--and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome.
And there are those who have little and give it all.
These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward.
And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism.
And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.

It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.
And is there aught you would withhold?
All you have shall some day be given;
Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'.

You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving."
The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture.
They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights, is worthy of all else from you.
And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream.
And what desert greater shall there be, than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed?
See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.

And you receivers... and you are all receivers... assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives.
Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings;
For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the freehearted earth for mother, and God for father.

]]> Tue, 13 Dec 2011 22:25:00 GMT 316B5693E1FE0AD59EEDDE4062B005C6 Two Ears and One Mouth http://ceraimpala.com/blog.cfm?feature=2316424&postid=1022193      It was Ghandi who said, "You have two ears and one mouth", which I interpret to mean that we ought to listen twice as much as we talk.  When it comes to musicians, I think we might square this and multiply it by infinity.  The best music makers I know don't just noodle along in a jam, they figure out the bass-line first,  they know the foundation before climbing to the attic, don't play over vocals, know their time to shine, enjoy finding new music,  encourage and appreciate every level of discovery, and above all- they **listen.** listen.**listen.**  This requires most humble genius, patience, and a deep and unfettered understanding of our various musical roles.    MY RECENT GOOD LUCK     I had a concert at the Schokoladen scheduled for yesterday (Wednesday) but as the fates would have it- they are having noise compliant issues and the ordnugs amt is breathing down their neck...they gave me the choice to opt out of performing (or go on at 9:00) and I chose not to play....which  was the most fortunate choice I could have made. In place of performing myself  I attended a konzert at the GlassHaus here in Berlin.   What use the performer made of time and space, the loop station, the sparse Tom-Wait's-eqsue piano accompaniment, not to mention the handsome black bow-tie under spotlight was truly stunning. There are rare artists out there who have the ability to transform energy, and inspire peace by relieving us the constant burden of hearing our own incessant woes. They give us something much higher.  They are ambassadors for a better and more perfect world we tirelessly strive towards.  All musicians to some degree or another are chasing the tail of this most elusive dragon,  and last night I was transported to a place of pure inspiration.   Thank you for this, and thank you *universe* that we have ears to hear at all. .   It was Ghandi who said, "You have two ears and one mouth", which I interpret to mean that we ought to listen twice as much as we talk. When it comes to musicians, I think we might square this and multiply it by infinity. The best music makers I know don't just noodle along in a jam, they figure out the bass-line first, they know the foundation before climbing to the attic, don't play over vocals, know their time to shine, enjoy finding new music, encourage and appreciate every level of discovery, and above all- they **listen.** listen.**listen.** This requires most humble genius, patience, and a deep and unfettered understanding of our various musical roles.

MY RECENT GOOD LUCK

I had a concert at the Schokoladen scheduled for yesterday (Wednesday) but as the fates would have it- they are having noise compliant issues and the ordnugs amt is breathing down their neck...they gave me the choice to opt out of performing (or go on at 9:00) and I chose not to play....which was the most fortunate choice I could have made. In place of performing myself I attended a konzert at the GlassHaus here in Berlin. What use the performer made of time and space, the loop station, the sparse Tom-Wait's-eqsue piano accompaniment, not to mention the handsome black bow-tie under spotlight was truly stunning. There are rare artists out there who have the ability to transform energy, and inspire peace by relieving us the constant burden of hearing our own incessant woes. They give us something much higher. They are ambassadors for a better and more perfect world we tirelessly strive towards. All musicians to some degree or another are chasing the tail of this most elusive dragon, and last night I was transported to a place of pure inspiration. Thank you for this, and thank you *universe* that we have ears to hear at all.

]]> Fri, 10 Jun 2011 04:20:00 GMT DEA4786E8A8E6AAF620DEDA9BEA35C17 Why blogging is like singing in the shower http://ceraimpala.com/blog.cfm?feature=2316424&postid=972712 Blogging is like singing in the shower;  best without clothes on, can be a refreshing experience and should be done as if no one is listening.  I find my self lately wondering if people care to read it, and why? (perhaps I wouldn't)  The inside scoop is that this blog was not my idea, it began because of a suggestion from a fantastic college professor of mine, Sean Williams. Her encouraging theory being that it is indeed interesting for folks to get a glimpse into the artists process. Well Mz. Williams- I'm not so sure my blog will clarify anything and honestly, I didn't want to do it- which has stopped me in my tracks--....yup.  It might be just the thing I need to do for what ever as-yet unknown reason (as is so often the case). But jeeez- I've always figured it's better to let ones workings be a mystery- right? To challenge myself I've drummed up a few notions as to why  maybe I was wrong.... and here they are: 1) it's fun,..and fun is good (or at least so says Dr. Seuss).  If we only write to perform, and not for the bigger funner no so serious self- we lose what is essential about why we write in the first place.  We have to write for no reason, or there never will be a reason.  2) It's therapy,  for both parties the writeer and the reader. Why pay a psychologist when you can ask yourself every week,..how do I feel? In theory if we share candidly what we think and feel with others (and really listen to them in return) we might just end up in the end with a more colorful world view with a juicier more nuanced palat to boot ,..and be all the better for it.  3) it's a flexible multi-media platform that allows pictures (which I take almost every day), and video- god help me (it's  new hobby), and whoo-hoo** if I'm feeling saucy I can just leave a poem or a piece of scanned artwork. I say this is waaaay better than the old methods of show and tell.... Speaking of which-After this crazy weekend, a major bike accident (I will resist from showing you the pictures I took of this) and Dirk having been attacked in the park by some dumb hooligans  leaving his fiddle shattered... you'd think I'd be feeling shaken up and defeated.  ahh but no.  I've never felt more (OUCH!)+(OH**no!)  Alive! Yes, alive is what we are except when were not...and I feel woken up in a big way.  Things couldn't be better.  We have it all,  everything we need- and there's nothing like an incident as such to bring out the best in everyone. Thank you to all of our beautiful friends who have supported us with not just words, but actions and true love.  We are going to get Dirk the fiddle he really deserves and I can't wait to hear it.... can you? Take a listen to Dirk playin' his heart out on "Orange Blossom Special"- the bonus track we'll send you when you download our new Album "Higher Place" <a href="http://joe-czarnecki.com/dirks-violin/">http://joe-czarnecki.com/dirks-violin/ Thank you JOE for being such a true friend. Only good can come of this*   need to do for what ever as-yet unknown reason (as is so often the case). But jeeez- I've always figured it's better to let ones workings be a mystery- right? To challenge myself I've drummed up a few notions as to why maybe I was wrong.... and here they are: 1) it's fun,..and fun is good (or at least so says Dr. Seuss). If we only write to perform, and not for the bigger funner no so serious self- we lose what is essential about why we write in the first place. We have to write for no reason, or there never will be a reason. 2) It's therapy, for both parties the writeer and the reader. Why pay a psychologist when you can ask yourself every week,..how do I feel? In theory if we share candidly what we think and feel with others (and really listen to them in return) we might just end up in the end with a more colorful world view with a juicier more nuanced palat to boot ,..and be all the better for it. 3) it's a flexible multi-media platform that allows pictures (which I take almost every day), and video- god help me (it's new hobby), and whoo-hoo** if I'm feeling saucy I can just leave a poem or a piece of scanned artwork. I say this is waaaay better than the old methods of show and tell....

Speaking of which-After this crazy weekend, a major bike accident (I will resist from showing you the pictures I took of this) and Dirk having been attacked in the park by some dumb hooligans leaving his fiddle shattered... you'd think I'd be feeling shaken up and defeated. ahh but no. I've never felt more (OUCH!)+(OH**no!) Alive! Yes, alive is what we are except when were not...and I feel woken up in a big way. Things couldn't be better. We have it all, everything we need- and there's nothing like an incident as such to bring out the best in everyone. Thank you to all of our beautiful friends who have supported us with not just words, but actions and true love. We are going to get Dirk the fiddle he really deserves and I can't wait to hear it.... can you?

Take a listen to Dirk playin' his heart out on "Orange Blossom Special"- the bonus track we'll send you when you download our new Album "Higher Place"
http://joe-czarnecki.com/dirks-violin/
Thank you JOE for being such a true friend. Only good can come of this*

]]> Mon, 16 May 2011 11:45:00 GMT 44ABAC193A4D7381A767680225AEC625 Time and Space http://ceraimpala.com/blog.cfm?feature=2316424&postid=936745 I often contemplate the concepts of the great and tortured Virginia Woolf. This week, her specific observation about the necessity of having "A room of ones own" to achieve professional success has grabbed me.  hmmm. (insert exasperated sigh here) Yep,  that chick never had kids. I'm embarrassed  to admit I spent many a college seminar really wondering publicly why so few women become engineers, ,..and now it's hit me like a cartoon piano.   Careers that require a lot of alone time, paper work, and cocktail after parties are near impossible if you've got a wee wonderful monster underfoot.  For those without kids,.. take heed---bringing a toddler with you anywhere is like traveling with an untethered goat. You've heard it all before but YES,.. Moms across the board, and nursing mothers in particular know the challenge of finding a bit of personal space and time to ones own.  (It's been ages since I clicked a door shut and was able to just breath my own air!) Sometimes *agh* I feel like my life is just damage control. BUT- and here's the big and beautiful 'but' here; motherhood has made me appreciate the time I have SO much more.  I don't waste it as much and I'm less likely to obsess about things I might've before.  No use crying over spilt milk, I can always make more.  I found myself telling a friend the other day that  nursing was like forced meditation, and as is often the case, once I said it- only then did I realize how true it is. It is the time when the mind must go quiet to make it work.  When I can do nothing else but let my body work, I find myself unknowing going over the chord progression to the "Tiger rag" or what have you-  ha* thank god dirk finally got a fiddle mute! He calls this the "marriage saver", ... I imagine because he's become aware that diminished scales are fun for a half an hour,...and then not for everyone!,....  I digress~ The point is,...you can travel the world without leaving your sometimes crowded room,  Thank you George Harrison! I argue the accepted notion that you need a silly old room to center yourself, though I admit it's a bit more challenging.  A recipe for success is a dash of proper patience and a good stir. It's true- at times you can achieve better practice not playing your instrument than playing it (and I really wouldn't  say this unless I had seen some results).   A room no doubt can be an aid, but either way (with one or with out), silence takes effort, discipline and the benefit of a healthy challenge.  In my most silent moments the best songs come on. So for all the rest of us fertile-myrtle's Mama's out there,..don't worry! The room in your heart and head can always be expanded upon, renovated, redecorated -plus it's private, and there is plenty of it for ripe-and ready for your amazing mind tingling, earth shaking, creations. oh boy I had better stop typing and,...   I often contemplate the concepts of the great and tortured Virginia Woolf. This week, her specific observation about the necessity of having "A room of ones own" to achieve professional success has grabbed me. hmmm. (insert exasperated sigh here) Yep, that chick never had kids. I'm embarrassed to admit I spent many a college seminar really wondering publicly why so few women become engineers, ,..and now it's hit me like a cartoon piano. Careers that require a lot of alone time, paper work, and cocktail after parties are near impossible if you've got a wee wonderful monster underfoot. For those without kids,.. take heed---bringing a toddler with you anywhere is like traveling with an untethered goat.

You've heard it all before but YES,.. Moms across the board, and nursing mothers in particular know the challenge of finding a bit of personal space and time to ones own. (It's been ages since I clicked a door shut and was able to just breath my own air!) Sometimes *agh* I feel like my life is just damage control. BUT- and here's the big and beautiful 'but' here; motherhood has made me appreciate the time I have SO much more. I don't waste it as much and I'm less likely to obsess about things I might've before. No use crying over spilt milk, I can always make more.

I found myself telling a friend the other day that nursing was like forced meditation, and as is often the case, once I said it- only then did I realize how true it is. It is the time when the mind must go quiet to make it work. When I can do nothing else but let my body work, I find myself unknowing going over the chord progression to the "Tiger rag" or what have you- ha* thank god dirk finally got a fiddle mute! He calls this the "marriage saver", ... I imagine because he's become aware that diminished scales are fun for a half an hour,...and then not for everyone!,.... I digress~ The point is,...you can travel the world without leaving your sometimes crowded room, Thank you George Harrison! I argue the accepted notion that you need a silly old room to center yourself, though I admit it's a bit more challenging. A recipe for success is a dash of proper patience and a good stir. It's true- at times you can achieve better practice not playing your instrument than playing it (and I really wouldn't say this unless I had seen some results). A room no doubt can be an aid, but either way (with one or with out), silence takes effort, discipline and the benefit of a healthy challenge.

In my most silent moments the best songs come on. So for all the rest of us fertile-myrtle's Mama's out there,..don't worry! The room in your heart and head can always be expanded upon, renovated, redecorated -plus it's private, and there is plenty of it for ripe-and ready for your amazing mind tingling, earth shaking, creations.
oh boy I had better stop typing and,...

]]> Tue, 03 May 2011 10:10:00 GMT BEBFA8A33DD886F98C9CEC6893552D9E Blackberry Bushes come to Berlin http://ceraimpala.com/blog.cfm?feature=2316424&postid=909211  After four years, it happened! the stars aligned and for a brief moment in time (about 6 days) Cera and the Blackberry Bushes reunited.  It was sweet and wonderful wednesday/thursday we managed some time for a song share, a food share,...and just got to breath the same air....whew.  and what a breath of fresh air it was*, ...well ok- after that first shower off the road! We performed a lovely Haus-party on friday the 8th at Max and Molly's tree-top paradise and Saturday hit the hip-scene that is the SOULCAT.  I can't wait till next time..... As their rental car pulled away from Oderstrasse wet stones too proud to call themselves tears came to visit in the Blackberry Bushes absence. After four years, it happened! the stars aligned and for a brief moment in time (about 6 days) Cera and the Blackberry Bushes reunited. It was sweet and wonderful wednesday/thursday we managed some time for a song share, a food share,...and just got to breath the same air....whew. and what a breath of fresh air it was*, ...well ok- after that first shower off the road!

We performed a lovely Haus-party on friday the 8th at Max and Molly's tree-top paradise and Saturday hit the hip-scene that is the SOULCAT. I can't wait till next time.....
As their rental car pulled away from Oderstrasse wet stones too proud to call themselves tears came to visit in the Blackberry Bushes absence.

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