anitalorrainemoore

Musician devoted to Justice, Creativity, and Courage


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TuesDayNewsDay Vol 2, Issue 12 ~ September 15, 2020

TuesDayNewsDay Vol 2, Issue 12 ~ September 15, 2020

Dedication: today’s Tuesday Newsday is dedicated to Jonathan Byrd. Back in 2002, I worked for a man named Gary. Gary lost someone dear to him and I accompanied him to the funeral. I didn’t know who Jonathan Byrd was at that time, however upon hearing him sing at this funeral, I knew he was very special. I don’t actually remember who it was that it passed, but I remember hearing Jonathan sing. Maybe that’s messed up of me, maybe it’s just my normal human brain… more attuned to music.

Here and now, sitting up on the banks of the Haw River, many years later, I have the privilege and opportunity to share my music with Jonathan Byrd and his amazing audience tomorrow night. Only a few people know of my goals, because I don’t share them often, but one of my goals for this year was to sing for Jonathan Byrd‘s weekly residency, The Shake Sugaree Jonathan Byrd and the Pickup Cowboys show hosted by The Kraken, our local dive bar. I actually wrote it down on a piece of paper with my other goals… A few of months ago, I ran into Jonathan while waiting to perform for the John Prine tribute. Due to Covid, it’s kind of not cool to hug people, but later I expressed to him and several others that I wish I could’ve given out hugs. That was the first time I had been around a whole bunch of people for several weeks. Jonathan said that he wished he would’ve been able to hear me sing, and without a beat, I said, “well maybe I could sing for your show one day…” thinking way into the future, maybe on the ground, in real life, post Covid. After a few agonizing minutes of waiting for his response via Facebook messenger, he responded, “Can you do July 25?”. I was flabbergasted because I half expected him to say no. No, you don’t have an album and I really don’t want to host someone who can’t have something to showcase… No you can’t perform, for some other piddly reason my mind made up for me… But he said yes and I am so excited.

In my excitement, I reached out to my friend Spencer who is also one of the videographers for Jonathan‘s weekly show. I love Spencer and he also said yes to play those videos with me. What a treat!? Spencer is an amazing songwriter. His voice is captivating and his musical talents soar out of this world.

So tomorrow night, at 7 o’clock when the show begins, join me on Facebook as I will be starting a watch party for people to watch it with me. There will be two videos of my own songs in between the many amazing sets of Jonathan Byrd and the Pickup Cowboys’ music. I’m stoked and honored. One of the songs is a product of Jonathan’s song writing workshop. I recommend it to anyone who likes to write songs!

Quote: “Jump, and the lily pad will appear.” This quote was on a friend’s mom’s fridge and it’s etched into my memory. Perhaps that is what I did when I asked Jonathan to sing for his show…

Song: The Sea and the Sky, this is one of my favorite Jonathan Byrd songs. https://jonathanbyrd.bandcamp.com/track/the-sea-and-the-sky

Dear Humans,

Thank you so much for supporting me during this musical journey. I don’t have much to say this evening, I have been teaching and organizing and protesting for the last several months. We have much work to do in this world to make it a better place, I know I am doing my small part. I hope you enjoy the show tomorrow! Thank you Jonathan for having me, I look forward to enjoying your music and reminiscing about the past in hopes of a future that includes dancing at the Kraken.

Love,

ALM

JByrd blog for this week: http://www.jonathanbyrd.com/blog/2020/9/7/dancing-ovation


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TuesDay NewsDay Vol 3, Issue 9 – July 14, 2020

Dedication: The Migrant Farmers, The Gardeners, The Land Cultivators – Those who feed us all. We must remember from where our food and sustenance come, for we are nothing without the land – we exist on stolen soil and call it private property with arbitrary borders bound to arbitrary power – we can start acknowledging from there and create a discourse together, from now on.

“Farm workers thin lettuce crops work in in San Luis, Arizona. (AP Photo/Paul Connors), (AP Photo/Paul Connors) ‘Living in crowded dorms with no space to quarantine the sick, farm laborers are “petrified.”'” –

This is also dedicated to my best friend Maggie and my dear friend Harry who feeds our community and themselves and are exemplary humans I am honored to know and call friends.

Maggie (right) with Helen (left) – those are some sweet potatoes

Quote: “Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.” Mary Oliver and subsequently, “When large slices of the demos feel as if their voice is not being heard, they feel helpless, impotent and turn on themselves and turn on each other… Every generation is wrestling what it means to be human and how one takes democracy seriously, and has to accent the underside of their present moment, in light of the past, to ensure that the future can be a little bit better, maybe even qualitatively better than the present.” Dr. Cornel West

Song: For the dreamers: Somewhere Over The Rainbow ~ the divine, Ms. Sarah Vaughan: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=389fPqjTi9M

Dear Humans: Today is Tuesday and I have felt like a flapping fish out of water (forgot to take my medicine… Captain Distracto… Passionate Multi-Tasker… Obsessive Student… Crazed Teacher… Mad Artist! I am teaching, was accepted into a graduate level 5-week intensive class “Teaching for Black Lives”, standing daily on the street corner with my sign, highlighting police brutality with my neighbors, falling in love with myself and my Spiritual path, doing some yoga, making friends with dedication, making art, reading tarot cards, making matchbooks and frequenting the post office. I have amazing news. On Wednesday, the 29th, I’ll be performing 2 of my songs as the virtual half-time guest of Jonathan Byrd and the Shake Sugaree Global Pandemic Live Stream. I cannot even begin to describe what an honor this is. I’ve been listening to Jonathan Byrd since I was 23… I’m 37… that’s a long time!

Love to everyone, I’d wax poetic here about everything into which I’ve been diving, but I’ll spare you and share another quote of Dr. Cornel West, “Democracy is like the art form of jazz: You better find your voice, accent your individuality in community so you can contribute to the high quality of the collective performance.
Find your voice!
Each citizen: dig deep into the precincts of your soul and examine the suburbs of your voice and find your voice and get it out, not just your self-interest but your voice that balances enlightened self-interest and public interest and the public good. (We aren’t just talking about votes in Florida..).” 2014, Dr. Cornel West speaks at University of Washington

This week in pictures:

My reading from this morning.
Yesterday at the magic rock, a skipper says “Good morning!”
Me on the magic rock yesterday and I say, “Dang, this pen is dead. I must go to the car and retrieve another one.”

Upcoming shows: Every Tuesday at 8:30 – live on Instagram and Facebook! ❤

This Thursday on Facebook, live John Prine Tribute called “Souvenirs” , recorded live at the Cat’s Cradle: https://www.facebook.com/events/3112393915542674?__mref=mb

July 29th – Shake Sugaree Residency with Jonathan Byrd (OMGGGODDESS!) https://www.facebook.com/events/671491593707052

Just sayin’


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Live Benefit Concert Tonight at 8:30!

Head to my Instagram or my music page on FB for the livestream of love! Be there or be somewhere! See you all of a sudden!


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Greet The Dawn, Foster The Wild

The dawn greeted our hermit

Cool it was

Wind swam through the thorny vines

Dewey shrubs

and tall tree shadow lines

I dreamed of the absentee’s return

The whisper of the path which led to me

The window held my vision

As my eyes drifted

No explanations

Sand crept into my shoes this morning

On my trek away from isolation

In the dark

The Star illuminated

My lessons

Though still dim, they tasted

Of potent potions, salt, fantasy oceans

The chapter I began today

Spoke of caution, beware

Of self-neglect – dear hermit –

Let that light be your guide

Sacred compass

I am the gift to which I bestow

To you my love

Feeding your inner glow

Only when you re-member

Stitch back

The missing pieces

Can affirmations be upheld

Rejoiced, embodied

Love increases and releases

Bless you my sprite,

Rebellious child

I’ll hold you in the dark

The light

And foster you

Wild.

The Hermit Tarot card, number IX – (9) ~Modern Witch Tarot Deck, by Lisa Sterle~




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TuesDay NewsDay Vol 3, Issue 7 – May 26, 2020

TuesDay NewsDay Vol 3, Issue 7 – May 26, 2020

Dedication: This week’s edition of TuesDayNewsDay is dedicated to Amy Alexander and her family.  Here is her obituary and HERE. We said goodbye to Amy on Saturday after she passed on last Tuesday.  Last Tuesday, in lieu of a newsletter, Bruce and I did a memorial livestream on the Facebooks which you can see HERE.  It is more and more difficult to speak of her in the past tense.  Ryan and I had a talk about that. I have so many unutterable feelings.  All I can express right now is my gratitude for her.  I could never be more grateful for her presence in my life as a substitute mom.  I love you Ma.

This is Amy, Loren and me:

This was us (the family of Alexanders and friends) at Thanksgiving last year:

last Thanksgiving

This is Amy and her oldest son, Josh. Everyone knows him as Skip. I called him Skippo. He called me Stinkie. They are together on the other side now and to quote my post about this earlier this week: “My thoughts also drift to our brother Skip during this time. Time slows down when I think of him. There is something strangely comforting and tragic knowing that they’re on the other side together now.”

The week before last, another friend passed over the rainbow bridge, Paul Vasquez (the double rainbow guy) and I made a memorial video for him live on the Instagrams.  You can see that HERE.

paul v rainbow

 

Quote: “WILD KINDNESS” by Jack Kerouac

“By practicing kindness all over with everyone you will soon come into the holy trance, definite distinctions of personalities will become what they really mysteriously are, our common and eternal blissstuff, the pureness of everything forever, the great bright essence of mind, even and one thing everywhere the holy eternal milky love, the white light everywhere everything, empty bliss, svaha, shining, ready, and awake, the compassion in the sound of silence, the swarming myriad trillionaire you are.”

 

Song: “Don’t Be Shy” , by Cat Stevens  »  “Love is better than a song… love is where all of us belong…”

 

Dear Humans,

Cat Stevens says, “Don’t be shy just let your feelings roll on by, don’t wear fear or nobody will know you’re there..” Today, as we lift our heads to the heavens all around us, it is with acceptance and grace that we move through grief and mourning those souls who have gone before.  To be real as can be, this last year has gifted many opportunities for pause and reflection, gratitude and silence, reception and art, Spirit messages and an outpouring of gifts we can only begin to imagine.  This may seem folly, overly light-hearted, or flippant – but please, know I say these things with extreme reverence in the midst and acknowledgment of the pain and suffering in our world right now too.

As I sit here on this magical rock, a direct connection to the heartbeat of this earth, I have no choice but to breathe and sigh, sit in awe of the moving spectacle of the water coursing through my toes,  the sunlight pouring in through juvenile leaves of Summer.  The Elm and Sycamore, the Box elder and Tulip Poplar are my Sacred canopy.  The bees gently buzz in puddles left from the latest flood.   I have been blissfully swimming in poetry and space, gifts of song and tears, all the while mourning and then once again, with dry and damp eyes, tapping into the divine through connections with others, these plants, the garden soil, growth, and my dearest buzzing, singing, trumpeting beautiful flying beings.

No, I cannot complain.  Yes, there has been much loss. Yet, I am making my own type of peace simply by surrendering to what is.  Supplication to blessings, even if they hurt.  Nodding my head and heading in the direction to which I am called, without an ounce of regret or hesitation.

I love you all.  Thank you for Being. Thank you for being there, being challenging, being real, being You.

 

ALM

 

Shows: Ha! I’ll do a live stream tonight on Facebook at 9pm! Here’s the link to my FB music page, that is where the live stream will be going on. Anita Lorraine Moore Music on Facebook

Visual aids and insights from Life:

Tulip poplar

Tamales with Bruce

 

Amy Eifell Tower

Amy and the Eiffel Tower!

 

 

Thanksgiving 2018

Thanksgiving 2018

 

 

amy and litte one

Last photo Scott took of Amy being a Grama, one of her favorite things in the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wet Forest

 

Days of crying

 

Home studio mess with Bruce last week

 

 

 


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Fundraiser Starts Today!! Help me to make my first album!! 🎶💜💓💜🙏💜💓💜🎶

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 spirit… 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 refined… 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 – shaped telephone booth

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