I’m delighted to be one of the 17 tellers in a live retelling of an epic Irish myth by the Seattle Storytellers Guild. I’ll be contributing storytelling with my wire-strung harp! If you’re in the Seattle area, consider joining us for this amazing event — a great way to continue celebrating St. Patrick’s Day!
Illustration by Boris Artzybasheff
THE WONDER SMITH AND HIS SON: An Epic Irish Myth
The Seattle Storytellers Guild Invites You To A Live Retelling
Of This Wonderful Irish Myth collected by Ella Young
Told by 17 storytellers and musicians playing flute, harp, guitar, penny whistle, psaltery, handpan and fiddle!
Saturday, March 19, 2016 from 7:00 PM to 10:00 PM
The George Community Ctr, 2212 NE 125th St, Seattle, WA 98125
Suggested Donation:
$5 – members, $8 – non-members, $12 – families
Spring is awakening … in the tiny reddish buds on the Silver Birch, the bright faces of Daffodil and Dandelion, in the return of the Rufous Hummingbird with the first pink blossoms of Salmonberry, in the mysterious and murky spathes of the Skunk Cabbage in the wetlands.
Spring suffuses the air — lengthening the days, and invoking the renewal of exuberant and anguished egg-laying by our hens. It infuses our vital force, and we too may feel a budding and greening, the surge of sap rising — pulled upward by way, as with the trees, of the crown of ourselves. — drawing forth the minerals and waters from our saturated winter-fed subconscious, and nourishing our fancies and wishes, plans and motions with the sweet and potent brew of life.
Here in the Pacific Northwest the persistent rains, and soaked fields, forest, and pathways remind me that we humans are of the waters and the earth. Fluids move through us, a constant interchange of absorption and release of various aspects of earth and air. We are sparked and fueled by the fire of life, and awash with the streams, rivers, tides, and tranquil ponds that communicate within us our ocean nature. We possess greening, leafing selves, pulled upward even as we root downward and and outward in our daily quest for essential nourishment to sustain our spirit and selves.
Bright stars of thought and imagination, the deep inner mystery of our own genetic coding, and the unending, surrounding, and inner flowering breath of the Divine urge us to reach in ways that enliven the deepest threads of our being. The successive layers of our own wood nature — our progression and story through the years — sculpt our resilience and strengthen our resolve as we respond to the changes, stresses, and wonders that is life on our blue-green world and with one another.
If you are alive, you are always listening and responding. Your trillion cells listen and respond, as does your very soul. The earth song that shapes and shifts the world around and within us is a music that every aspect of us knows, and an improvisation and composition within which each of us has a voice.
Who are you when nature and you know no boundaries, when one flows into the other and you recognize yourself in the garden, and the forest within your heart? When the Divine is soil and the soil is music? What is the earth song you express into being just by being yourself rooting and growing, leafing and flowering nourished by the very soul of your nature?
Early Cycladic harper – 3rd millenium BC – black and white gouache on Bristol board by Jane Valencia
Above is art that I created for my illustration class at the Georgetown Atelier in Seattle. The figure is an Early Cycladic sculpture of a harper. The Cyclades are a group of Greek islands in the southwestern Aegean sea. In the third millennium B.C., these island developed a distinctive culture and art, of which this harper is an example.
Back in the late ’80s, in my first months taking harp lessons, a group of us made a trek to the De Young Museum in San Francisco to see an exhibit of this sculpture — which I’m pretty sure included this figurine. I was — and am — captivated by both the style of the sculpture, and particularly by the harper, a colleague from more than four thousand years ago!
Early Cycladic Harper – sculpture from 3rd Millenium BC
The harper is attentive, listening– it seems to me — to whatever else is taking place. He is poised to play when the appropriate moment opens. As one who has performed at many events during which I too waited, listening, until the moment when I would play, his bearing is oh-so familiar. Perhaps you can relate to such moments in your life as well!
Here, in this moment, how are you listening? How are you poised to play/create/take action when the moment springs awake? What music is this changing season whispering, laughing to you? If you wish, please share your thoughts below.
Here’s another “ancient” snapshot: two harpers listening as a third harper plays (some of you readers will recognize these lovely folk!)
