Saturday, April 30, 2016

Bono and The Message

At a point during the U2 shows that I saw last summer, little pieces of paper floated from the rafters like tender snow flurries. I willed one to come my way, but none did. Lucky for me, one of my students, who worked at the venue as an usher, saw them too. When one came his way, he thought that he'd better pick one up for Miss Moran. Back at school this past fall, he took his wallet out and said, 'I have something for you.' It was one of the paper flakes that descended from the heaven of the United Center to cover the audience in ... "The Message?" I had no idea what that was, but soon discovered that it is a contemporary language translation of the Bible written by Eugene Peterson.

Recommended to me on YouTube was this short film that 'documents the friendship between Bono ... revolving around their common interest in the Psalms.' The conversation took place at Peterson's Montana home when Bono was on tour last year as evidenced by his blond locks (Bono worked the tour as a blond ... it worked for me). Naturally, the scholar had no idea who the rock star was but was brought up to speed fairly quickly. Peterson says of "40," based on Psalm 40 (I can't remember a show when U2 didn't play this one): "I think it's one of his best ones. He sings it a lot. I mean, he does this a lot. It's one of the songs that reaches into the hurt and disappointment and difficulty of being a human being. It acknowledges that in language that is immediately recognizable. There's something that reaches into the heart of a person and the stuff we all feel but many of us don't talk about."

I am biased because U2 and I go way back ... what Peterson says is what I have always felt, that when U2 performs,  they reach into the heart and soul of each person in the arena to make them not only hear the music, but feel it as well. It is euphoric. I had a friend remark to me that it wasn't for the fact that I love Bono that she didn't understand, but for HOW much. And that is it. I've seen U2 countless times, sometimes back to back. And when Bono comes out on stage, I am filled with a joy ... and peace ... that is unparallelled to any other thing that I experience in day to day living. It is my church, I suppose. And he is its messenger. Bono talks to Peterson about being vulnerable to God, not in a bad way, but in a porous and open way. And at a U2 concert, that is how I receive it. How often do we have the opportunity to be truly vulnerable? How many people do we know in our lives that allow us the space to be that? Vulnerability is uncomfortable. Not only for the one who feels it because it is so raw, but for the witness who suffers it and may not understand it.

The tender snow flurries mystery is solved. Mine, thanks to a sweet boy who thought of me on a hot, summer night, sits in a mini-shrine of ticket stubs and photos that I have collected like revival programs. They are to remind me to be more open, more porous so that day to day I can live the Trinity: a euphoria that comes with acknowledging the body, the mind, and the spirit.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Vogue's Pattern Clash

British Vogue  March 2016
Yesterday, one of my students, who was out of uniform on a pass, came up to me, and I had no idea what she was asking because I was so caught up in her 'business casual' look. Usually, when my students are given the opportunity to wear what they want, they go to sporty gear: Nike, Addidas, etc. But she wore a dark, pinstriped vest, a floral long sleeved, collared blouse, and colored jeans. She looked great. And I loved the masculine/feminine mix of pinstripe and flower. She has the tendency to dress more masculinely to reflect her sexuality, so the flowered blouse really stood out. I wonder if she had any idea of how on point that she was to a spring trend? Probably not. It was the gear that she had in her closet. Her happenstance gave me the idea to do the same.

I'm living out of a bag and a couple of laundry baskets now as I'm with my mom while she recuperates from a surgical episode. But as soon as I hit my closet, I'm inspired to clash. Of the examples here from March's "British Vogue," I think that I'll go for the look on the red headed model on the left. I like that the texture of the blouse and skirt tie together two patterns that clash. The look 'matches' because of the this. Plus, I'm more likely to find that than a leather jacket with a chevron strip like the blond model is wearing ... although, I do think that I could do the skirt and polo. Wait a minute, I don't own any polos. I may just have to model after my student. She nailed it with the look, and I think that I will copy it. Vest, check. Patterned blouse, check. Colored jeans, check. Et voilá!

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Yiddish Relationship Translation

Oprah Magazine March 2014
Oprah's topic of the month in March must have been relationships as evidenced by the page that I tore out. I zeroed in on this piece, for it's Yiddish ... who doesn't need a little Yiddish in their daily language diet. And there is something that strikes a chord with me for this idea of a 'heuruta' or learning partner: "It's not about finding someone who completes you; it's about finding someone who gives you the opportunity to complete yourself."

I sort of skipped over the 'bashert' or 'bestowed' that also mentioned in this short piece. I'm not so entirely sure about the notion of destined partners. I think that there may be 'circumstanced' partners- ones that given the circumstance of the time, two come together. Or maybe it's 'happened' partners- two happened to be in the same place at the same time and are brought together. I can only really think of one person in my own life that may qualify as a bashert. I'm not so sure about whether we were destined to know each other, but I do know that circumstances were such that we happened to find each each other. We knew each other up and down, all around, and in and out for the good side of 30 years. Sadly, he was not long for this world- his death happened and circumstances are such that I am destined, perhaps, to live out my natural life with his ghost.

But the 'heuruta' or learning partner, I understand. Of course, for this issue of the magazine, I think that they are talking about romantic partners. I find that we are far too shortsighted in considering that the only significant, over the world and be all, relationships are those that involve licensing. Of course, this comes from one who is destined not to have a bashert as it would seem. But I have been irishly lucky in that I have had the fortune to have many that are heuruta. They have not been romantic necessarily, but they have been significant enough that I am the better for having been in the company of a friend who brought out the best in me. I have had friends who have been quietly encouraging and those who have set a really high bar that I work until I can do it. Those reaches have been the most rewarding.

I think that our destined partners are ourselves. We are who we have to truly spend our WHOLE lives with to the end. It is in the heuruta that we connect to others to become what we are destined to be ... as a person.

Monday, April 25, 2016


Chicago Tribune 4/25/2016
Since I have been staying out at my mother's house while she convalesces, I have had more time to jump on the old bike, literally ... and old Schwinn, to ride through the wood close to her house. On my street route to the bike path, I've taken to count the dandelions growing on all of the lawns in her neighborhood. Some have hundreds like you see in this photograph captured by the "Chicago Tribune" online this morning. Aren't they pretty?

Alas, dandelions are a weed.

This may be true, but I will you that they are awfully cheerful as they smile up in their particular yellow from the bright green of spring sod. Doris, my dearly departed charge, loved dandelions and would often exclaim, 'they are my favorite flower!' This week, they have captivated my attention. Oh sure, tulips and daffodils have turned up their pretty cups, and they are quite pretty. But the dandeline is heartier, bolder and can blanket a wider expanse in an explosion of what is the change in season.

Who cares if they are weeds.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Leon Bridges

Rolling Stone April 21, 2016
I saw this cat on a television show ... probably a late night talk show. I don't remember it, but I remember him. And here he is on the pages of Rolling Stone. I'm not at home, or I would immediately buy his record because it is a perfect remedy and accompaniment to spring ... deep, fresh, cool.

While I am writing this, I'm listening to him on "NPR Music's Tiny Desk." He's delightful ... can I even say enough light, easy, pretty words for him? uh, no.

When I was a college student, one of the things that I loved best about being in the town five hours away from home was the live music scene. In my time there, it spilled out of every bar on the strip. There was something for everyone. And I listened to it all. One of my favorite bands was local: David and the Happenings. David, lead singer, was leggy tall, blond, and preferred choir robes for his performances. He was backed by a drummer, a stand-up bass, and a saxophone. They did covers of mostly James Brown. David was a great soul dancer, and he moved all over the small clubs preaching the gospel of James Brown. I couldn't ever get enough of them. I don't particularly care for a saxophone in rock music, but in soul music, it's just right.The sound is more of a beat, than a blow. And I like that.

This guy. This Leon Bridges reminds me of that sound ... it isn't it, it's better. But the man has soul. I would like to see him in a small club ... I wonder if he'd put on a preacher's robe for me? ah!

Saturday, April 23, 2016

shinrin-yoku: Forest Bathing

In Style February 2016
Stressed out? Take a walk in the woods. Japanese studies 'show that the treatment (walking in the woods) can reduce levels of cortisol, our stress hormone.'

Apparently, 'forest bathing' is a thing at select spas. Spa-ers are taken into the forest surrounding the compound for a guided stroll. At some point, the guide gives them various instructions to shut eyes, breathe, and focus on the environs. With the instruction to 'call the senses,' visitors are rewarded with calm and serenity.

Well, I could have told them that, right?!

Not far from where my mother lives is a forest. In it is a bicycle path. One of my favorite activities in the summer is to ride through the forest with my niece, who visits along with the rest of her family, every year. She always insists that we pack drinks, sometimes snacks, and we wheel off into the quiet of the wood. My young niece is a thoughtful one, so the ride is not a sprint. We stop on the bridges and watch the float of leaf to creek and the ensuing ripples that the tiny thing makes on still water. At several points of the ride, we come across tended prairie. Now, it is mowed down, as I rode along the path this week. But in July, it's hip high and full of grass, weed, and wild flowers. We always stop to listen to the prairie. We talk about the what ifs and size of the universe and pluck a few flowers to bring back to grandma.

The forest this week is still waking up from winter. The trees are just budding and straining to show green. Very few of what will be the abundance is evident, but it is readying itself. As I rolled by, a duck waded quietly in a pool of rain water enjoying the quiet of the calm before summer's storm. I did not pause, nor stop for drink ... I just rolled through. But the effect wasn't lost on me. I missed my riding partner and was sad for it, but anything else was but a blur but for the peace and tranquility that drops slowly there (thanks Yeats for that).

Shinrin-yoku for sure.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Gemini Man on Route 66

Gemini Man on Route 66, Wilmington IL
Not quite the warm day that was the day before, it was still Spring, and we enjoyed driving out into the country to one of our favorite spots for antiquing.

Though trees were nearly all green deeper in the state when I went down last month for an athletic event, here in Northern Illinois, they are just making their peek into the season. The farmers were out in force with every imaginable shape and size of farm equipment turning the fields up from dusty brown to a nearly velvety black. Dust clouds ballooned over the horizon as it's been relatively dry for the last couple of weeks. I imagine that will change once the rains come that are on the horizon.

My sister stretched out on the back seat for a nap during the hour long ride. I would never do the same and miss what is the coming alive of the Earth. I could watch it unfold forever if I had the time.

The shopping trip into the junk stores was fruitful. My Mom bought a crystal lamp for her bedroom for $25, and I bought a vase and a small pitcher with delicate purple violets painted on it. We had a nice lunch at the local bar and ice cream on the way home. What better way to spend a new spring day in order to recover from what has passed.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

The Jungle Book

"The Jungle Book" is one of the most worn children's books in our family's collection. It has stood the test time through our reading of it, my brother and sisters and I, and my nieces and nephews.

The original movie was the first one that my Dad took us to when we were young. It was a big deal that he took us out to the movies. It wasn't that he didn't want to take us or that he wasn't interested in spending time with his children, but he and my Mom probably didn't have the money for such a luxury, and, while growing up, my Dad worked six days a week. On Sundays, he rested. Actually, he drank Hamms, then Old Style, beer and watched football or car racing or golf on t.v. Who could blame him? When I consider the number of hours per week that he worked, I wonder how he got out of bed at all on Sundays to do anything.

I have no idea why he decided that "The Jungle Book" was the movie to take us to see. Although it was a favorite, we were kids that read, and we had a lot of favorites that were probably made into movies. I suppose that the time/space continuum was aligned, and this is the one that worked. Although I didn't see many movies as a little kid, I knew that with the few that I did see, especially in the movie theater, that I loved them. As soon as the lights dimmed, I could move from my small space to the world's vast regions of unknown. And it was a lovely place to visit for the two hours that the film flickered.

Yesterday, I went to see the new "Jungle Book." I don't typically run out to see Disney movies. I enjoy them alright, but I usually see them when my nieces and nephews are in town. Disney is all the better with a child on one's lap. But this one, I really wanted to see because it was the one that my Dad took me to when I was young. This time around, my sister and I took my Mom. She's recently had surgery and a complicated recovery. We were to travel to Puerto Rico during my spring break to visit my sister and her family; instead, we are having a steady as she goes outings close to home. What better way to get well than to see a beloved story re-told on the big screen? And it was fantastic! It honored the original movie that I loved so well, but recreated it with a life all of its own. The little boy who plays Mowgli is adorable. He's a natural actor and brings the cartoon'd version of Mowgli to life. My favorite character is the bear, maybe because that big old bear kind of reminds me of my Dad. Oh, he could holler, but there was absolutely no bark in it, and he was a gentle soul.  And it is made the more so with Bill Murray playing the part. The animals and jungle were, as I told my niece, super cool. Jon Favreau, the director, said that a lot of creativity went into the making of the movie as he introduced it, and I would have have put a huge exclamation point behind that statement. I don't really need to know how he did it, as I'm sure it's complicated. All I know is that is amazingly realistic ... well, if real are animals that talk and take on human expression.

"The bear-necessities, the simple bear necessities, forget about your worries or your strife ..." I guess that you don't really need any better expectation than that. And this trip back in time and forward into the future at the same time did for me.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Spirit Mound

Spirit Mound, South Dakota
Several years ago, my mom and I drove across the country to attend her sister's 50th wedding anniversary in Seattle. One of the longest stops along the way was in Vermilion, South Dakota where my grandmother lived. She lived in a lovely assisted care living facility with the nicest people that you would ever ever want to entrust a loved one to. My grandmother was in her 90's and suffering from dementia. Our conversation moved in circles, or reels as I like to think, beginning with a topic or observation, weaving out and around to pick up where we began to start all over again. We'd spend hours on the same reel picking up its musicality, and then my mother and I would venture out into the world of South Dakota.

Not far from Vermilion is Spirit Mound. When Lewis and Clark were in the vicinity, they were told by the locals that no one could ever make it to the top of the mound without being attacked by spirits who attacked intruders with projectiles. Keen to disprove the phenomenon, I would imagine, they ventured to the top and, alas, found nothing except a sweeping view of the prairie and a lot of bugs.

Over the years, farmers planted up the sides of the mound. But in good move, conservationists reclaimed the land and have brought it back to the prairie's mound that Lewis and Clark would have encountered. My mom and happily climbed on a hot, sticky, Midwestern summer day to the top of the mound. At top is a bench. We sat and watched the prairie.  In its sweeping grandeur, I can see the appeal to explore it and put it on a map.

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Dan Auerbach

Rolling Stone sometime in February - March 2016
In my pile of tear-outs, Dan Auerbach jumped out at me. I saw just the other day on an interview with him talking about what happened at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony for Steve Miller. Apparently, Miller, when accepting the award, went on a rant about the music industry. Auerbach and his band mate were there to honor him, but ducked out right after their introduction because Miller was so curmudgeonly in his acceptance of the honor. They were also disappointed that Miller wasn't even aware of the Black Keys. You'd think that Miller would listen to the dudes who were there to celebrate his contribution to music.

I had to reread tear to find why I had ripped it out in the first place, and found what I was looking for at the end of the article:

Q: What habit would you like to break?
A: Habit? My whole life is a habit! My coffee, the things I eat, how I get dressed. If I start breaking habits, I'm fucking with the matrix - I'm afraid to mess with the space-time continuum. And I'm happy with myself, warts and all. All my flaws - fuck it. I'm not trying to be perfect anymore. The people who are around me like me enough for who I am. You can read as many self-help books as you want, but you are who you are. You gotta just start to accept that.

For this, I ripped it out. Who does want to mess with the space-time continuum? How can I can be anyone but who I am? I don't think that this is the hard thing to do; rather, it is accepting others for who they are warts and all. That's about all I have to say about that because who can say that they've understood the matrix of everyone they've ever come across. There is no short cut to that except time.

I'm not really that interested in Steve Miller's breakdown. I suppose that I could find it on YouTube. Oh sure, I hear an old song of his on the radio and enjoy it, but I haven't really followed his career. I don't appreciate that he wouldn't know the band that introduced him. Maybe, that's the point of it all. How can someone be nominated into the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame and not know who's selling records now. Sounds like, on the surface for sure, that he's the one with the problem.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Track Suits

UK Elle March 2016
This is the not first time that I have had the pleasure to write about the track suit trend, thank goodness. Track suits are are an inside joke for my sister and I. I always have one that appears in constant rotation, particularly on a Sunday when I am out to visit on Sundays. For a long time a Target brand, Addidas-esque little black number that was black with two white strips was my tradition Sunday supper outfit. The material was something other worldly, and it was not afraid of an agitator, spin cycle, or hot dryer. It didn't pill. Or stretch. Or fade. Just talking about it makes me misty eyed. Those were the track pants that I wore under a wrap dress for a friend's birthday party a couple of years ago. It was right after Christmas, I didn't feel like getting off of the couch or putting clothes on, so I put that together. No one was the wiser. And I received several compliments for the ensemble.

That darling went away, but I've stocked the shelves with perfectly comfortable and equally fashionable items in its place. When I saw this lay-out, and all of the spring magazines have shown the same trend, I decided that I would take my track suit out and to work. I have a pair of Calvin Klein 'sporty' pants that I had worn with a sequined jacket and heels to a 70's disco party. It worked then, so I thought that I'd take it down a notch and make it work for school. I wore the pants, a basic black tank, and a suit jacket. I paired the outfit with a pair of booties. As my father would say, I was looking good.

Did anyone notice that I was wearing track pants with a jacket and booties? Not until the end of the day. And I shouldn't have been surprised who noticed it. I work with an attractive guy- tall, superman shoulders. He is someone who when he is into something, he is in it all of the way. He talks like it, walks like it, and dresses like it. Currently, he is in a lumber-jack phase. He is fishing, hunting, gutting, camping, and wearing flannels, pocketed pants, and long underwear. I actually appreciate this about him. He is a method actor in his own life. And he understands how the outfit can make the man. On the day of my track suit outfit, I had a chance to go up to his office. I was chatting with him and another colleague when he said to me, 'digging the look, Carol.' Goal! And score! I was so satisfied to have some other than myself notice the effort that I took to make a look.

I have had to get to work at 6:15 a.m. for the sport that I coach, which makes dressing in the morning something that I don't have much time for. But now that the season is over, I think that I need to try out more of the trends with what I have in the closet. It makes work that much more fun.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

The Ramones

Rolling Stone April 21, 2016
Netflix is showing a film about the birth of CBGB's club in NYC as the mecca of punk rock music. I was obsessed with CBGB's when I was a kid listening to the bands that started up there, particularly the Ramones, Talking Heads, and Blondie. In the summer after my 6th grade year in school, I hung out with older girls a couple of doors down. They were my true entre into the world of music. They had a good turn table, and we spent the hot summer jamming to Led Zepplin, Foghat, Deep Purple, the Beatles, and the Ramones. The younger of the two sisters talked a lot about going to O'Banions, Chicago's punk rock club, to dance. I couldn't wait until I was old enough to go. Naturally, we dreamed of going to NYC and CBGB's. I got the old soon enough, but by that time, O'Banions and CBGB's were closed. Of course, I did have Exit and the Smart Bar in Chicago, which were an equally viable options to wear black and punk-out in a dark, whole of a place.

The CBGB movie wasn't very good, but the music was amazing. Instead of hiring actors to portray and live band karaoke the bands that played there, producers used the original music and the actors lip synced. Hearing the Ramones reminded me of how much that I love them. They jump in, hammer it, and stop. Fast. The stop always begs for another hit.  And always leaves the heart beating.

I have never read the story of the Ramones as it is told in this edition of Rolling Stone.  I naively thought that they were all brothers, not understanding that they assumed the name once they became part of the band. I also didn't realize that they never hit it big. To me, they were larger than life.  

'Rolling Stone' also listed 'The 40 greatest Punk Albums of All Time.' I bought the top three in vinyl during the time that they were released: The Ramones, The Clash, and the Sex Pistols. I just played the Sex Pistols for my high school, inner city school, students. I have shared with them the new Bowie work and told them the story about how Bowie was first asked to write lyrics to the tune of the song that would become 'My Way,' which would become Sinatra's signature. They asked to hear it, so I played it. And then I remembered that Sid Vicious had done of version of the song on French television show when he was on a break with the Pistols, so I played them that. Blown away by what is that? I moved right to 'God Save the Queen.'

The effect of punk was not lost on them. Everyone needs a jump, a hammer, and heart pumping stop to really feel it once in a while.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Girl Scout Badges

Tatler March 2016
Helena Morrisey was featured in the March edition of Tatler magazine.  The sub-headline reads: "When Helena Morrissey is not managing £48 billion or changing the world, she is raising nine children, with a little help from her Buddhist-monk husband."

I was going to zip past the article because 'we are women hear us roar with out big jobs, Alexander McQueen dresses, and have it all lifestyle' stories are dull and not very reliable. I'd rather read about a struggle. Or a process. Not ... I have it all, and there are only 10 of them in the world that does.

But something else caught my attention. Another headline was a quote from the superstar herself: "I was always like this, the manic Brownie, the one who had all the badges ..." Now that is something that I can relate to.

After reading through the story, I'm still not too sure what it is that she does in managing all of that cash and all of those children, but I was not surprised to learn that her husband 'informs her that she will know she has reached a more highly evolved state when she finally throws away all those Brownie badges she still has, safely stored in an envelope.' Why would she do that?

I immediately went to the drawer where my own Girl Scout sash is safely tucked away and in a place that I can immediately go to it. I nearly earned all of the badges while a member of Troop 149. I tackled that Girl Scout book and its challenges with abandon. I learned to plan from those pages. I imagine that I knocked off the easy to accomplish ones first to get them out of the way. Cooking badge? Are you kidding me. Piece of cake. Camping badge? Our troop did that on the regular. And I made my fair share of sit-upons and dunk bags. I see on the Internet that one can purchase a dunk bag ... and probably everything else that we had to MAKE WITH OUR OWN TWO HANDS ... online. More the pity. It was such a sense of accomplishment to build it, use it, and to discover the satisfaction of taking care of oneself. I scanned in the front of my sash here, and it may not surprise you to know that the badges line up the back because once I took care of the business at hand in finding what I already knew how to do, I started to look for badges that were out of my realm of experience. And that's when it really got fun to figure out something new.

I have often thought that I would write a book for grown-up Girl Scouts. The badges, which would be real ones, would be earned by knowing how to put together a dinner party, assembling a tool box for home repairs, knowing what not to wear, ones own top ten books to read ... the list has no limits. And there is so much satisfaction in pulling something together by oneself.

I don't have many relic mementos from the past stored away. But this one is important because the experience of it taught me how to be a girl. I grew up in a time when the ERA Amendment lost, and there was a huge feminist push to make girls equal to boys. I'm not saying that doesn't need to happen because we know that this is still a problem in our society, but what I think got lost in many of those messages is that we had to become equal by being like a boy. And we aren't boys. How we arrive to equal doesn't have to be on the same ladder. Even Morrissey says: 'Women only produce a tenth of the testosterone of men, which means we're kind of a stabiliser ...' Is that accurate? I don't know. I know that the sexes are different, and I believe that we need to study more of how they are in order to fully support our boys and girls as they grow up. Is testosterone a bad thing? Uh, no. Well, estrogen isn't either. Let's figure that out so we optimize the best of both.

Maybe, we should make it a badge.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016


Driving to work this morning, Prince was on the radio ... I jammed out to "1999." And I thought about his purple-ness.
 I have been lucky enough to see Prince a couple of times live. He explodes on stage. He is one of the best that seen live. I'm not his biggest fan as in I can't wait until his next record is released, but I keep an eye out for him. Long ago, his second album, 'Prince,' blew me away. He wasn't rock, he wasn't soul ... he was sexy, fun, and liberating. My favorite songs are 'I wanna be your lover,' and 'Sexy Dancer.' Just thinking about them mow makes me want to pop my earphones on and dance. I once read an article about a party in Paris that Prince showed up to. And in the very late hours, he took to the dance floor and tore it up. I would have loved to see that, and I would be up to the challenge to dance with him ... I can just imagine that little bundle of hotness turning it up to 'Sexy Dancer' ... with me.

But Prince is inconsistent. Some of his music falls flat. Even some of his big hits like 'Raspberry Beret,' I have to wonder at what it was in his mind that made him go to ... a song a fruity hat. Bono, of U2, once said that what Prince needs is a band ... to say no to him. And I thought that was a pretty smart thing to say. I can't imagine anyone saying 'no' to Prince. But what he doesn't realize, in my estimation, is that I have a 'no' in me. And I haven't bought anything from him since ... maybe 'Purple Rain.'

And so I wonder about the purple. And I thought of Yeats. In his world, purple is transcendence.

In the line from "The Lake Isle of Innisfree": "There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow," Yeats finds, in a natural place, an inverted midnight and noon in a what becomes a transcendence of time. It is sunny at midnight and dark at noon. I wonder if Prince knows this poem, or the interest of Irish poets, writers, and thinkers of the time of transcendence. Yeats would return to the beauty of a pastoral Ireland to find it, and I imagine that Prince returns to Paisley Park in Minneapolis for his own departure from reality. His signature color suggests that he has it in him to be more that what he produces. I'd like to get a hold of him to have a chat. Oh sure, he would have a lot to say to me, but maybe I could be the murmur that would pull out more of what first captured me in the first place.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

W. B. Yeats, 1865 - 1939

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.