anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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TuesDayNewsDay Vol.2 Issue 19, November 19

Dedication: The Preacher Keith who surprised me with a musical instrument today at the coffee shop.  Tears were brought to my eyes when he brought it out.  He said to me, “You will do with this guitar what I cannot and will not. I want you to have it.  I love your music, it is music ministry.”  What a sweet man.  Thanks dude. You rocked my day. Here’s a description of the new little baby, I named her “Preach” – “‘Cordoba Mini R’ features a solid spruce top paired with rosewood back and sides for a deep, full tone.” It sure sounds lovely.  I played a few tunes with it today and learned the Gm chord almost immediately.  I find that all my instruments have a chord they came with.  My Mexican guitar came with A#m7 as her chord.  The Ibanez was E. Straight up E. Image result for cordoba mini r

Song: Precious Memories as sung by the infamous Jim Reeves.  In his memory, this was written, “If I, a lowly singer, dry one tear, or soothe one humble human heart in pain, then my homely verse to God is dear, and not one stanza has been sung in vain.”
Written by Linnea Crowther – I sang this song tonight on Facebook if’n ya wanna hear it.  My Aunt Helen requested that this song be sung at her funeral.  I sang it with tears in my eyes. She was 96 when she passed last year. Hard to believe.

Screen Shot 2019-11-19 at 10.58.48 PMScreen Shot 2019-11-19 at 11.01.54 PM

 

Dear Humans, Autumn is sharing her bounty with us in color and for me in creativity! The album is coming along nicely. Some of the songs sound so beautiful, way more beautiful than I could have imagined.  There is only one more left for me to record and we’ll be heading into a stairwell for that recording.  Lo-fi effects in the house! I’m scheduling and rehearsing with the accompanying musicians who will soon be making the magic up in the studio.  Drums, bass, mandolin, piano, guitar and maybe a few more surprises.  Those souls who are helping me are doing sacred work for this project.  I can’t wait to share our magic with you! If you’d like to donate to the studio costs, you may do so here for the album fundraiser! Thank you! Every bit counts! (You can also read about how I got here if you’re interested on the GoFundMe page as well.) We have almost reached our goal! Together you’ve helped to raise $4170 out of $5200! #SurrenderingToTheSacred

Tuesdays have been fun each week sharing songs with you all.  I had no idea it would continue after the initial songs on the album were played, but it felt right to continue!

Last week, Crystal Bright and I played at a restaurant in Greensboro called “Lucky 32”.  The crowd was lovely.  Thank you to our dear Family who came in support of our music.  Here is the link to our duo portion of the show (forgive the poor camera skills *shrugs shoulders* What can I say, I do my best…)

Love to everyone, bundle up and don’t just tell your people you love them, SHOW them!

ALM

 

This week in pictures:

 

 

 


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Candlelight on a Friday Night

Everyone’s trying to find themselves these days;

seems like the topic of the decade.

Lovers masked behind the text on a screen,

alcohol masking all emotions to be seen.

Our game of tug-of-war between our projections and our shadows,

we stand, stunned in silent stillness, wondering how deep the wound goes.

We’ve forgotten the non-electric world,

between fingers, between addictions, distractions….the absurd.

I’m always on the verge of falling in love… and a desire to be safely furled.

My fear of intimacy may actually be unknowing – can I learn?

Who can teach me?  How do attraction and true love work?

I sit here by candlelight on a cold and dreamy Friday,

wondering if my body’s wasting away.

All the while, imagine the line outside,

hanging my drying lingerie.

 

 


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Waxing Moon

Smile I see in the sky

I mirror back

every single time.

 

Never have I looked up and frowned

or wished they’d take that incessant light down.

 

The stars dance all around,

thousands of miles

I sing along inside as they whisper by

each with their own unique styles.

 

As the darkened treetops block my view

little windows branches make, so I can see You.

 

I was born when the Moon was growing

and now she tells me about who I am

when she is dark or even when she’s showing.

 

Her pregnancy of light

this waxing Moon

a reflection of many promises

of birthing, of blooms.

 

 

waxing crescent moon

Photo credit: https://www.moonglow.com/blogs/shoot-for-the-moon-blog/moon-phase-personality-descriptions (I was born on a waxing gibbous moon. Here’s a link to a photo of an art piece I did about the Half-Moon, waxing gibbous: https://anitalorraine.files.wordpress.com/2019/05/screen-shot-2019-05-30-at-12.15.04-pm.png )


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TuesDayNewsDay Vol.2 Issue 16, October 22

Today’s issue is dedicated to Ruth Gordon! What a firecracker! Tonight I decided to do the Cat Stevens song, “If You Want To Sing Out, Sing Out.” The character, “Maude” from the movie, “Harold and Maude” made such an enormous impression on me, this whole day should be dedicated to her glorious soul.

Image result for ruth gordon maude gif
Image result for ruth gordon maude gif
“Do you know that woman? She just stole my car!” says the priest…

Quote:

Image result for harold and maude quotes

Song: My Tuesday video series covers the song of the week! https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=2464801173804147

Dear Humans! There is so much news. There have been some ups and downs over the last week – but today, I’m high on life! The last few days, I have been compiling and digitizing old poetry I wrote back in the day! Some of it absolutely sucks! (That’s my judge-y adult being unfairly mean to my little teenage self who was just hurting a lot and didn’t know what to do with herself.) Nevertheless, there’s a TON of material. I found songs I’d not finished, my eccentric, fairy-tale prose… love letters to my old boyfriends, dreamy poems about my girlfriends and their amazing selves, there’s even a poem about a fuzzy little spider. Here’s that one:

Little jumpin’ spider

i saw you by the window 

oh little jumpin’ spider, 

biggest I ever saw

hairy little arms, squinty little eyes,

fuzzy and twitchy, black as night time sighs

fangs I couldn’t see

oh but I know 

they were waiting just for me

oh little jumping spider 

I’m gonna take you out

cause you know I can’t have you 

here inside my house
~ July 9 2014

Another poem I found was one I wrote while falling in love, it’s precious to me:

Oh. Dear Honey.

You know just how to say

The words that make my insides play

The truest forms of pristine feelings

They escape me through my Smile

They exit through my Exhale

They permeate me in the side of this Time

You’ve awakened a thousand sleeping Fairies

A million bells of stillness are now ringing

An eternity of rustling leaves and moonbeams

A rousing on deep waves of blue and green

I fear not, my eyes are open.

Smooth

Silent, like the wings of a night bird

Calm, yet floating on the clouds of sunset

Giving in to the excitement of the tide

Pushing and pulling and swirling and mingling

Miners, sailors, and gems of old

sing their songs to Us, stories untold

Phantasms in the dark, wrapped inside ourselves

Safe and tender perceptions

Your voice in my soul

I needn’t search for your smile Shadow

Its imprint has been signed onto the whole side of my spirit

I hear you.

You don’t have to speak

I would not be afraid to open my eyes

in your downhill stream

Let us fly

Fly away far into the day

Explore each cave

Sing new songs

Make new Love

~ August, 2010

 

Amazing… I love poetry and painting. Right now, I am in the midst of a new watercolor/ink painting right now. There was an old wooden calligraphy boxed set at the Goodwill the other day, it’s now in my home. So much sharing to do, so much more to transcribe into digital format. Once everything is entered, then begins the editing and placement of letters in exactly the right place. Truly, I want to create a poetry book and for it to be an adult pop-up book. Many of my friends and also my sister have done self-publishing; I may go that route, though it is expensive. I will also pitch the idea to some publishers and see what happens! Last week, a fellow professor at Alamance Community College suggested that I submit some of my poetry into the faculty writing contest. The prospect was exciting so I obliged. Maybe they’ll like them! I’m going to paste the ones I entered here – so you can read all 4 of them as well. 🙂

1. Status Update:

Anita Moore

‘s turning a corner ~ a path to health and clarity 


A non-doldrum roar of cleaning it all the fuck out ~ 

body and spirit ~
love and truth.

I have strands of positivity reaching into the future


I am envisioning that enlivened journey of my Self. 


The yellow-brick road leads to Anita’ville,


the badass grateful go-getter, 

with a no-stop’em medidationary attitude of the Now-Tao.


There are lilies on my tongue and roses in my nose, 
golden light shining right out of my ass. 


Purging and seeing what’s real and what’s not. 


Keeping in the checkmark those stories I tell myself and refuse to listen to the ones that aren’t true. 


No assumptions. No generalizations. Be specific. Be on point. 

Be loving and trusting and open and true. 

Be the brave believer and the courageous vulnerable one.


Be clear and focused and heart-of-gold style out there ~ and right here. 


Breathing and walking and singing and plotting my own enigmatic Now.

This world needs more love and active voices of the light, 

in the streets, in the claiming of what we deserve ~ clean water and fresh air to breathe, 

true voices and something we can believe in: system-change, not puppet change. 

Seething with light-force, I know I am in the heart of God.

I am in the heart of God. I am in the heart of God.

 

2. Decisions and Serendipity

To sit

feel the breeze on my skin

coughing and chatter

cars rolling by

birds hopping, pursuing scraps

the baby talks, indistinguishable from the noise, yet distinctly knowable

Feeling pensive

sure of where I’m from

choosing to go forward into the 

u

n

k

n

o

w

n

no compass

no map

only my own encouraging word

co-mingling with my discouraging chorus

 

Nodding

a tip of the hat to the Builder

the Architect of this vessel

I see that entity as me

still small

yet more vast than I can possibly imagine

 

Others see her

historically I have not

Such privilege to get to sit down in an empty room

choose to listen

rather than speak

I can taste my dreams

I can hear the music

It’s not above my head, heaven IS.

it is within

 

3. Little Girls

We are born fearless, named after our grandmothers

Then we are hushed, beaten and ashamed

We then built walls, taller than we’ll ever be

Beyond the clouds, those walls protect you and me

Then we grow up and learn to see

those walls which fortified us, kept us from being free

They’ve become a cage, we must find a way to escape

To get to the light Beyond our enclosed landscape

We inherit the strength and strife of our ancestors

generations of oppressed children in cages

Self-built and outsourced

yet, we blame ourselves for so much more

What if I told you it’s all okay?

What is you had permission to thrive?

What if in an instant, you tore down your walls?

What if you believe you can fly?

I’ve been beaten, assaulted, invaded, invalidated and thrown

Boundaries a foreign concept, and now I’ve learned

That I have a right to one or two of my own

It is my time and time for you

This ripeness of this moment will free you

Like it has freed me, all you have to do is surrender

to the sacred survivor inside you

That little girl who saved you

who gave you the tools to save yourself

She is your higher power

She is your salvation

Treat her with respect and compassion

Cradle her when things become tough

She carried you, now you must carry her

She didn’t deserve her oppression

She didn’t ask for a beating

She called out for help and her mother never answered

She has you now, her protector

 

I knew a dual world

Two extremes in life

A cradling and an abandonment

A vision of everlasting love and a nightmare of neglect

A plethora of mentors and guides, a whole population of me-shaped limitations

A society meant to hold me down and also the privilege and the choice to rise above

I am finding my way back to the Looking Glass

A child of Neptune sternly placed among the ills of Life

Too forcefully unsupported and left with your homemade guilt

There is true wisdom in these fantasies

Yet they were too early extinguished, I am finding my way back now

You can also find yours

The path to the box of liquid filled rainbows

The visions lie beyond what we can see

The inspiration my little girl has left for me

She still has her key, it was hidden and now is bright

Shining by the light through the keyhole of the drawer where she buried it out of sight

 

4. The Muses Groove

This rhythm is rolling, 
rolling around inside 

my undulating chest 
and heart


Sitting at this wooden table


contemplating it not being real
 and part of me…
 

and part of you…
.

and I’m not really touching it… 

it’s touching me.

 

The music changes

I dream of being a poet

I dream of being who I am

 

I dream of making music 

unabashedly humble

grateful to share this gift with the Greats

To only for a moment think of all those who laid the path before me

those brave and enduring souls who

pebble by pebble, note by note

stroke by stroke, experience by heartbreakingly joyful, or painful, experience, tapped in

 

They tapped in, not out


Some through Divine Spirit intervention,


some through straight-up booze.

Whatever the avenue, whatever the teacher,

it brought about my ancestors of music and word.

They walked that road.

 

Creative muse lingers just outside our reach 

we must take heed


We must cook up that stew

be ready when the salt falls from the shelf

to delightfully enrich our slippery, sensuous, slimy, salubrious, sacred soup


So thank you. 

Thank you Greats. 

Thank you oldies, thank you newbies

thank you to those who have yet to be born.

 


Thank you for learnin’ me to open up

stand up straight

be connected to the ground

lift my head and sing – those notes are not mine, they are Ours.

 

If you’ve made it this far, I hope you enjoyed it! Adieu for now! Crystal Bright and I will be doing a show together in Greensboro on November 12th.  Other than that show, I’ll be recording in the studio, painting, and compiling/editing poetry! Y’all have a beautiful week. 

Love, ALM


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Forgotten to Remember: A Poem at Dusk

I have forgotten to tell you my name
You may have seen me through the window
The shop windows after the shop has closed
dreaming of outside from where you’re looking in
the dreams of my childhood are kept in the back
behind a secret latch,
a secret doorway
Through which would I let wrong ones in and keep right ones out

There’s an old man playing a pedal steel to the sound of my tears
There’s a farmer growing the crops with the wetness of my tears
There’s a child painting the forest chasms of my green eyes with my tears
There’s a sleeping ancestor dreaming of waking in the caves dripping with my tears

I have forgotten to remember my name before I was me
You may have searched the stars for to understand my longing
Coming in from the cold, I wrap inside my soft sweater, stoke the fire within, and capture the memories of smoke in my hair


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July 1st… Journal today and Khalil Gibran

Monday… July 1st

Today, right now, I feel peaceful. I am sitting on the couch with my coffee, grey cashmere sweater score from the thrift store, tons of reading material and my ankle propped up on ice. This whole process of surgery and healing has taught me so much I never really understood – how important the pause really is. The caring for your body in a way that reflects that you ACTUALLY care about what happens to it and how it functions. It’s unbelievable to me that I went so long without really taking care of this ankle, or thinking about this at all… the life of childhood sexual abuse survivors perhaps – but I’ll only speak of my own experience. I think back and see so many unspoken, unseen barriers to recognizing the problem. I never want to be that distracted and oblivious again in my life. Therapy, Al-Anon, music, and most of all that Divine resilience spark from somewhere within me (and us all, right?) has put me in this place of submission. I know I’ll be taken care of. What a privileged feeling?

Right now, my mind goes to the families on the border of our country, the refugees trying to find a safe place, a home, the war-torn families of people across this world who truly DON’T know that they’ll be taken care of. Sitting here, I truly don’t know what to do about that. Is there something to be done? Is there nothing to be done? I can’t take on the weight of the world alone. How is it that my conscience (I’m teaching about conscience and morality in my Critical Thinking class this week.) is so heavy from the knowledge of what is happening around me but also the feeling of being incapable of doing anything about it. Is that not the essence of trauma? Am I wrong that everything will be taken care of? Is this a false sense of security in some unseen force? When I have been abused in the past, I didn’t know what to do so I froze and allowed it to happen until is was over and I could escape. Some don’t escape. My escape was in my mind, as my body was being invaded. What of right now? Is my escape the comfort of my mind since there is this seemingly limited amount of impact I can make on the atrocities of this world? (I made 74.50 Friday night performing to send to the Border relief organizations sending lawyers and food/water/proper care to those families.). It seems like so little… I curiously don’t feel shame. That I am proud of, however there is guilt – the healthy spark to do something to rectify wrong-doings comes from guilt. I didn’t create the system in which we live, yet as I live and breath, I benefit and continue to perpetuate its eventuality.

Are we all going through trauma right now, on a cellular and spiritual level right now, if not physical (since it’s all connected)? The world feels to me to be chaotic and mean, and while I sit here with my coffee, it’s hard not to think of all those who are unsafe and literally grasping for their lives.

From therapy, I learned that many truths can be simultaneously existent – the ever-present paradox – the both/and – not simply the limiting either/or. Literally, I believe this is the only mindset which can release me from my own rambling, concerned yet paralyzed state. Also, it’s the only perspective which can shed light on numerous co-existing perspectives of abundance which are hard to see while thinking about the suffering of this world. I never just think about the suffering, I FEEL it. Everyone can. It is impossible not to (even if you are unconscious of it, it impacts you. “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” (Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.)) – it is all recognizable and at times, insidiously invisible. So why is it that the joys and the love and the light is so hard to absorb and hold? Again, that shift in lens is the antidote for the tunnel vision. A trusting that somehow, those positivities are truly out there in and amongst the negativities. …and if you venture out to the furthest reaches, perhaps those challenges (in hindsight) give us the tools we need to survive.

In an attempt at gross summation and perhaps even over-simplification – maybe we can cradle in our palms these painful knowings and trust that they are providing insights about how to better live, how much more aware I can be to not only see and recognize, but to act upon those recognitions to create a more just world in one fluid, unnoticeable and perpetual movement with the intention of good?

“On Good and Evil” – Kahlil Gibran (I find deep feeling insights every time I open The Prophet.)

“And one of the elders of the city said, Speak to us of Good and Evil. And he answered:

Of the good in you I can speak, but not of the evil.

For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?

Verily when good is hungry it seeks food even in dark caves, and when it thirsts it drinks even of dead waters.

You are good when you are one with yourself.

Yet when you are not one with yourself, you are not evil.

For a divided house is not a den of thieves; it is only a divided house.

And a ship without rudder may wander aimlessly among perilous isles yet sing not to the bottom.

You are good when you strive to give of yourself.

Yet you are not evil when you seek to gain for yourself.

For when you strive to gain you are but a root that clings to the earth and sucks at her breast.

Surely the fruit cannot say to the root, “Be like me, ripe and full and ever giving of your abundance.”

For to the fruit giving is a need, as receiving is a need to the root.

You are good when you are fully awake in your speech,

Yet you are not evil when you sleep while your tongue staggers without purpose.

And even in the stumbling speech may strengthen a weak tongue.

You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps.

Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping.

Even those who limp go not backward.

But you who are strong and swift, see that you do not limp before the lame, deeming it kindness.

You are good in countless ways, and yo are not evil when you are not good,

You are only loitering and sluggard.

Pity that the stags cannot teach swiftness to the turtles.

In your longing for your giant self lies your goodness: and that longing is in all of you. [I am brought to tears at this moment reading this line again.]

But in some of you that longing is a torrent rushing with might to the sea, carrying the secrets of the hillsides and the songs of the forest.

And in others it is a flat stream that loses itself in angles and bends and lingers before it reaches the shore.

But let not him who longs much say to him who longs little, “Wherefore are you slow and halting?”

For the truly good ask not the naked, “Where is your garment.” Nor the house less, “Where has befallen your house?”

Another memory I heard singing in my ears while typing this, “I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch, he said to me, “You must not ask for so much.” I saw a pretty woman leaning in her darkened door, she cried to me, “Hey, why not ask for more? Like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir …I have tried, in my way, to be free.”

– Bird on a Wire, by Leonard Cohen.

Nothing is left unresolved, only momentary feigns of understanding…


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Soul Mirrors

I never knew I’d ever know

A soul who shone like the sun on fresh snow

A sparkle, some darkness, some light,

a shimmer in the eye of a mother doe

~

Memories of you I’ve always known

Don’t know what to make of this newborn revelation

Down inside it shakes a growing infatuation

Haunts of a recognition, a relation, a soul reflection and negotiation

~

I want to see you

my heart’s intuition

Don’t want to miss you

my dreams’ imagination

~

My old-time fears from being here before

Caution to stay back, don’t reveal much more

It’s been in my nature to hide behind castle walls

Scared you’ll love me

then I’ll not know what to do at all…

#AlAnon #SoulMates #Poetry #Magic #Memories