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Courting the Muses

~ Writings of Elizabeth A. Katz

Courting the Muses

Monthly Archives: July 2015

An homage to my father

29 Wednesday Jul 2015

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fathers, music

“Don’t play that song for me/‘cuz it brings back memories/Of the day that I once knew/The day I spent with you”

— Lyrics written by Betty Nelson and Ahmet Ertegun; song interpreted by Aretha Franklin

I love music. There are some songs that when they come on, from the very first note, it’s like a religious experience. For me, these songs include “Everyday is like Sunday” by the Smiths; “Everyday I Write the Book” by Elvis Costello; “Take it to the Limit” by the Eagles and, going way back, “Kentucky Rain” by Elvis Presley. Those songs have literally worked their way down into my soul.

Another song that’s just magical for me is Van Morrison’s “Tupelo Honey.” I think I may have heard it first on the 70s music channel or during the closing credits of 1997 film starring Peter Fonda, “Ulee’s Gold.” I love everything about the song, from the acoustic guitars to the flutes playing the delicate melody.

And though I love the almost-seven minute song, it’s not an easy one to slow dance to, as I found out.

I hadn’t listened to “Tupelo Honey” since the night of November 3, 2001. That’s a long time to go without hearing one of your favorite tunes.

I played it recently and it triggered all sorts of strong memories and emotions in me. It continues to be one of my favorites. I love the lyrics, “You can’t stop us, on the road to freedom, you can’t stop us, ‘cuz our eyes can see, men within sight, men in granite, knights in armor intent on chivalry.”

The last time I listened to that song, and tried to dance to it, was on the night of my wedding. It was the song that I danced to with my father, Robert Dale Carter, who’s been gone now for more than four years.

Is there anything more special to a woman than dancing with her father on her wedding day? I can’t think of many moments more poignant than that.

My relationship with my father, to put in simple terms, was complicated. My father never expressed emotions very well. And it was always difficult for me to talk to him and relate to him.

It’s even more difficult to write about him, considering my complicated emotions I have over my dad. I spent so many years being angry at my father for what he couldn’t express to me. He was a man beset by issues that kept him from expressing things that he felt.

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Farewell, dear companions

18 Saturday Jul 2015

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On July 4 Eve, I had to make the very difficult decision of helping my cat find her way to the Rainbow Bridge. Anyone who has had to put an animal down prematurely probably knows about the Rainbow Bridge. It’s a poem written about the place animals go when they die.

Don’t read it if you’ve recently lost a pet. You’ll end up in tears – that I can guarantee.

My cat had reached the age where she was disintegrating healthwise in numerous ways – she was senile, arthritic, had allergies, couldn’t groom herself well, used various rooms of my home as her personal litter box and was just about on the precipice of losing whatever continence she’d been holding onto.

Abby was probably more than 20 years old. I was the envy of friends whose cats had only reached their young teens before they left this mortal coil.

Abby

And to be sure, Abby was a wonderful companion. She would lay with me on the couch in the evenings and watch TV. She purred during my before-bed meditations, to help set the relaxed mood. It seemed to make up for all the mornings where she would literally be bouncing off the walls, caterwauling obnoxiously for her moist food.

I cried all the way to the vet and all the way back when I knew that she had reached the end of her life. I was with her when she breathed her last.

As much as she made a mess of my house, day in and day out, I hated to part with her. She had become a part of my regular routine. Feedings in the morning. Following me up the stairs at night to get her treats.

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In Search of Spirituality

12 Sunday Jul 2015

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I’ve lately been exploring the difference between spirituality and religiosity. I think the two can be blended a bit but on the whole, I believe the concepts are very different. Some people will claim they’re religious while others may prefer to have things be amorphous by claiming they are ‘spiritual.’

I recently returned to church in a quest to more clearly define my “Higher Power” and to show in a symbolic way my appreciation for guidance. Some say that your Higher Power can be anything – nature, a tree, the ‘Universe’ – hell, your HP can even be the muses (OK — that’s a shameless homage to my own blog!).

I like this idea, using what you need to define your Higher Power.

There is beauty in religious ritual. Growing up, I didn’t really appreciate it though. I went through 12 years of catechism and ended up learning more about my own religion through college art history courses and travelling to Italy to explore various cathedrals, to hear the otherworldly sound of monks chanting, and to view the dusky ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Some of these experiences literally brought me to tears.

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In protest of self-improvement – Or learning to accept yourself as is

05 Sunday Jul 2015

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I recently took a month-long break from working out. It was towards the end of my winter semester at school and things were just getting crazy. I felt little direction from my professor on my final project and other things had begun to spin off wildly as they pertain to various aspects of my life.

Now, I’ve been working out regularly, three times a week, for 13 years. In August, it’ll be 14 years. Some might call this an obsession. Others may call it a distraction. Still others may say what a good habit to have developed.

Anyway, it was a much needed break. It seems so much of my life is automatic, and that’s not always a bad thing per se. Routine saves your brain a lot of energy and you take control of time – it doesn’t control you. You can get a lot accomplished (oh, boy, there’s the voice of my mother!).

BUT, I get into the habit of things, even if it is good, and I forget to take a break to look around and observe things. Sometimes I get mired in the small details of life and fail to see the bigger picture.

The month off was great. I didn’t feel rushed to hurry home after work to fit in a workout. I went to the library after work to find some good books. I had dinner with friends. I unloaded the dishwasher and cleaned up. I cleaned my house, which is workout enough. I moved more towards spiritual conditioning versus physical conditioning

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Patience Bloom

Tales and tips from a writer and book editor

Thought Catalog

Thought Catalog is a digital youth culture magazine dedicated to your stories and ideas.

wordfromthewell

Wake up.

The Pema Chodron Foundation

Writings of Elizabeth A. Katz

zen habits

Writings of Elizabeth A. Katz

Debra Darvick

Writings of Elizabeth A. Katz

The Pioneer Woman

Plowing through Life in the Country...One Calf Nut at a Time

Lynne Cobb

Some Mid-life Random Ramblings...

Vivian DeGain Better at 50 Blog

Columnist and arts writer

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