anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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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


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AnitaLorraineโ€™s TuesDayNewsDay, Vol. 1, Issue 1 ~ October 2, 2018

TuesDayNewsDay

AnitaLorraineMoore

“Learn to handle the valleys Quincy, the hills will take care of themselves.” -Count Basie to Quincy Jones

Dear Humans,

Here comes the new Anita Moore newsletter every Tuesday describing what’s going on with me musically, emotionally/intellectually, creatively, and about life in general and things that move, touch or inspire me. We’ll start with a #freshquote and dedication – the #LivingQueryoftheWeek (respond in the comment section) and #UpcomingShows !!

Dedication: Auspiciously, my late brother Skip used to start a new journal on October 1 every year. This issue is dedicated to him. I miss him so much.

Over the last few weeks, there’ve been a lot of life events that have given me great pause. My 96 year old great aunt Helen passed and I sang a few songs for her funeral, I dealt with a staph infection, and my grandfather had pretty serious surgery to unblock his carotid artery (with him being in the hospital it inevitably means that my grandmother’s going to be on edge as well – they are attached at the hip quite literally. It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.) Lastly, the Supreme Court fiasco has triggered many feelings of anger, helplessness, and memories of not being believed, invalidation, and being ridiculed by my mother starting at the age of 7. Call your Senators people. Vote them out if they don’t act upon your testimonies. We cannot allow the perpetuation of this behavior with silence.

I’m working part time with Democracy Matters and have 10 wonderful chapters of students who are doing amazing awareness raising work from Florida to New York. Syracuse University, Gettysburg, University of Maryland, North Carolina Central University, a new chapter at UNC, Guilford college, the University of Miami, the University of Georgia in Athens, University of Florida in Gainesville, and the New College of Florida.

Music has given me quite a bit of inspiration. I am so honored and grateful to have been able to open that door when I did. Many, many other doors have opened subsequently from that divine choice.  This past weekend, I got to perform three shows w/Pete Pawsey. Sunday at the Carrboro music festival, I was a complete rockstar and dressed the part too! With the Radar Clowns – On that day an amazing five piece horn section, smooth piano, energetic drums, and rockin’ Pete on the guitar, I sang my heart out on several songs and we had so much wonderful reception. I felt very tuned in at that moment and realized how happy I am to have started this journey when I did. Thank you all for supporting me. I could not do it without you.

In my personal, therapeutic journey, I have learned a lot about myself and about my motivations for work, life decisions, and habitual responses that honestly I would like to alter for the betterment of my sanity and for the world in general around me. I found that I was doing political service work in such a way that I was avoiding my own process of healing and/or avoiding my own historical traumatic struggle. I was unknowingly convinced that the world was easier to fix than my pain. Well… I am not doing that anymore. I have begun to prioritize my own mental health and establishing boundaries. Going to an Al-Anon meeting weekly, I just began working with my first sponsor. I’ve been doing cognitive behavioral therapy weekly, implementing EMDR sessions throughout. There is a book I’ve decided to write, for which I have begun gathering sources. The album concept is complete and I have all but two songs completely recorded in a demo. Right now I am compiling a list of accompaniment and considering different production styles and offers. I have applied for a potential teaching position at Alamance Community College – critical thinking. *fingers crossed* PS: I love lists.

My struggles have been with food lately and maintaining some semblance of exercise. I’ve been paying more attention to patterns, realizing that hormonally there are some disturbances at certain times of the month when I become desperate, hopeless, depressed, irritated and lethargic. To start, going on morning walks has been really helpful. Waking up early to watch the sunrise is a blessing; I had forgotten how beautiful the sunrise is. This morning it was an amalgamation of all sorts of pinks, purples, and yellows and blue-grey clouds. The moon has also been especially haunting in a good way lately, happy October! *groovy happy dance*  

At this very moment I am sitting on what Bruce calls “the magic rock”, where the creek bends and the water forms soothing sounds. Birds are chirping all around and the crickets are playing their endless tiny violin songs.

With Love, because it saves the world,

ALM

#LivingQueryoftheWeek : What is your most effective tool for self-love/self-care?

 

 

Upcoming Shows:

  • Sat, October 20th – w/Radar Clowns, Rain Dogs by Tom Waits Theme
  • Fri, November 2nd – w/Radar Clowns – Day of the Dead Show
    • 8:00pm, Hillsborough @ #MysteryBrewingCompany
  • Sat, November 3rd – Me-n-Pete Duo
    • 7:15pm, Star, NC @ #StarworksCafeTaproom
  • Sun, November 4th – w/Radar Clowns, Rain Dogs by Tom Waits Theme
    • 3:00-5:00pm, Pittsboro @ #CITYTAPPITTSBORO
  • Fri, November 30th – Anita Lorraine with Bruce Horvath

 


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Fundraiser Starts Today!! Help me to make my first album!! ๐ŸŽถ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ’“๐Ÿ’œ๐ŸŽถ

www.gofundme.com/anitalorrainemusic

Poem about the process and #SurrenderingtotheSacred continued from the last episode to catch yall up:

The Mystery Still

They used to call that old white lightning “moonshine” in these hills

How many lips of other those words or family ties it breaks and kills

Strawberry apple pie or dark cherry kinds

But I found a new flavor my fingers and heart longed to find

Paid heed to the unanswered questions I spent too much time tryin to answer

Somewhere down the line I met a spirit and she bade me to release her

She gave me the keys to an old wooden shed

Her hair was long and dark, she was only 3 and her granddad’s hair was red

She came from the deep, A dark despair trail of loneliness

She rows up from the ashes and held me through the hunger and distress

In that shed, she showed me the silver, the copper and the gold

She showed me the jewels inside me, once I thought I couldn’t hold

She said the way it worked was this,

“you fill it up here and it makes a little hiss,

What you put in it is who you’ve been

What comes out that mystery still is your destiny, my friend”

The mystery still, a belly full of unknown

Stands in that shed just waiting to be blown

Open side, all the ingredients are there

You

“You just gotta believe” she said, “in yourself, if you dare”

I’ll show you the way cause you couldn’t even see

No matter how hard you tried, that spiritโ€ฆ What will be will be

“and that’s the magic” she said to me

Of sacred mysteries that come from pain and grief

Do you know her name, down this path you must go

Of surrender and sorrow of joy you can know

This still don’t make moonshine, but the Moonglows here still

Upon deep waters, wet and a tear stained two dollar bill

The birds are all calling and cannot be boxed in

Your dreams are free and aloof just like the wind

Ask for them to come and to you they will find

Their way through the core, the ground, from the mines

The caves you dug a long time ago

We’re dug by the same shovel that now makes you grow

This girl she smiled, as I sat down in awe

Bowed my head in silence, in reverence; I had no flaws

Suddenly I was sacred when I drink from that still

I’d learn the hard way, then she screamed, her voice hard and shrill

“your mantle, your fireside, your magic, I live inside.

You must off and stoke the fire and feed me” she cried

You never are done, don’t think you’ve made it

Each day, remember to keep the right flame lit

Don’t let it go out, else you’ll have to start over

And axe to this still, and your spirit sinks lower

Out of reach, out of time, out of luck, out of rhymes

Just put back on your skates and roll outside all the lines

You’re still is your own,

Every seed you have soon

Weights and yearns for your return

Build another fire to burn

If you still don’t know what this still is about

Think of a soul, longing to get out

As in distill, intoxicate your beautiful self

With the mystery of what is, take it down off the shelf

You open a portal and let spirit in

You release your control over who it is you’ve been

That little girl who showed me the way

She’s a firestarter, pyromaniac it play

She can blow up some shit because she knows no better

But refinedโ€ฆ She is genius and shakes her tail feather

The horizon cannot hold her, this child of God and Moore

She put in the time and said Grace for her store

This mystery still she’s found out how to use

Is a vertical prayer, open to gnosis and truth

I’m learning to use it, growing day by day

Excepting my feelings, no judgment, and a loving and kind away

As she hand me the keys and I return to make my shine

She lies back, relaxes and daydreams all the time

I long to filter out what I’ve been told versus what I know

My innermost yearnings, the balance, the flow

The gut, the tingles, the pangs and the blood is still warm

I’ll tell me the truth, like a pouring down storm

It’s like talking to God, From a sacred, me โ€“ shaped telephone booth

The mystery still takes me, shapes me, and provides me with the truth