Jan 27th - WATCH SHELLEY ON THE HARMONICA

Feb 3rd – TRASH 

Martin Scorsese’s recent documentary on George Harrison filled me with a deep spiritual satisfaction, both rare and beautiful. As I grapple with the deaths of my friend, Elana, and of my brother, Larry, near the 47th anniversary of my father’s passing, I reach for the kind of solace Harrison exuded and Scorsese captured and illuminated in his exquisite film. I am reminded of the song and biblical sentiment, “All things must pass.” Indeed. Grief is a mysterious thing. As I go through my daily activities, I find myself at once mourning my loss, as if a part of myself has died with those I love, and celebrating my incredible good fortune; I’m here! Life is sweet and tragic. The end of a short life is tragic while the end of suffering is sweet. Holding these thoughts and emotions in balance is my challenge, maybe the challenge. Many wonderful memories sustain me, as does the music of George Harrison. Who can’t relate to the haunting lyrics and chords of “While my Guitar Gently Weeps,” or the meditative chant of “My Sweet Lord?” My spiritual quest ebbs and flows like the poignant music of George Harrison. All things must pass is a bittersweet refrain. Time is precious, its passage inevitable. This is my last blog of the year, my last weekly blog, a bittersweet decision. Meantime, enjoy the moment. All things must pass.

In memory of my brother, Larry Gruntfest
June 6, 1944 – December 11, 2011

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house– , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,–
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening…

From ‘Ahead of All Parting:
The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke’

‘Twas the night of the opening

when all through the cell,

The staff was all quiet

After another day in hell.

The paintings were hung

On the walls with great care,

In hopes that family

and friends would be there.

Nancy was typing away at her blog

With Garlia, Kira and Pat in a fog.

Alan arrived with a headache or two

Looking for Advil, he needed a few…

“Hello?” cried an innocent voice from below.

“Has Barbara arrived yet?”

“Uh, sorry, but no.

She should arrive shortly,

feel free to explore,

You’ll hear her as soon as

she comes through the door.”

The staff remained quiet

Before the arrival

Of gawking cheese-eaters

Who come for survival.

They came and they ate

the scant offerings with wine,

Considered the art

Before leaving it behind.

But wait! There’s a straggler

Who understand’s art:

The super-extra-ordinary kind…

From the heart.

“A sale, a sale, a sale!”

we cried.  Barbara’s an artist,

it can’t be denied!!!

There is never a dull moment @ the cell. As if we don’t have enough going on, we now come in early twice a week for a very noble cause: our bodies! The lovely, talented, motivating task-master, Carmite Levité, keeps us on our toes (and backs) for an hour every Tuesday and Friday morning at 10:30. Classes are fun and affordable, only $120 for 10 classes. If you’re a patron of the cell, please join the class at half price. We’ll welcome you with open arms!

Image: Chance of Showers – Barbara Silverman

Hunt, gather, shoot, purge, repeat

Our destiny, encoded
in our ancestral genes
is indelible, as if written in
stone.

The proliferation of malls
is no more than a call;
civilization’s unapologetic answer
to a primitive urge.

I hunt, I gather
and armed (with a camera)
I shoot, recognizing my feeble gesture
as a holding on to what I must let go.

The photo, slim token, tiny ephemera, is
the thing I use to preserve what I must purge.

“I could spend a day with a fire hydrant!” was the refrain drummed into me as a photo student. It was kind of a running joke in our class, but obsessive engagement with a subject is the ultimate ingredient for success with the craft. We learn to see when we focus, focus when we learn to see. While I love taking pictures, my secret truth is that I could not spend a day with a fire hydrant. My dogs, on the other hand…