Life Is A Cabaret Sun, 19th May, 2013
On this beautiful spring morning, I have been enjoying my Sunday morning meditation quietly in my back garden (I prefer the British phrase to the American “back yard”). I just allowed myself a few minutes to enjoy the wonder of just being alive and relishing the details around me. The soft green grass below me, the subtle fragrance of the euonymus vine behind me, the cacophony of birdsong overhead, and cup of earthy, dark roast coffee in my hands.
My reverie was interrupted by a tickling sensation on my arm which I immediately assumed to be a small insect. I instinctively started give it the brush-off, but then my sense of wonder made me more curious than irritated. Taking a page from poet Mary Oliver, I drew my arm closer to my eye and studied this little ant and her antics as she navigated the tiny hairs on my skin, eventually reaching the tangling fibers of my t-shirt sleeve.
Anyway, the point is that this weekend I’m just drinking it all in. Last night, Betsy and I enjoyed an entertaining evening at the Gateway Men’s Chorus’ fundraising show, Cabaret Risqué. The emcee reminded us at the end that we had laughed, and we had cried, and that means the cabaret evening was a resounding success. Indeed, life is a cabaret, old chums.
For me this means a sense of awe and wonder, not only of the natural world, but of the network of mutuality (M.L. King) that has connected me and my family with a dazzling array of interesting friends and acquaintances. I was struck by this yesterday as I was standing in the greeting card section at a local Walgreens. I had just come from picking my daughter up from a Batmitzvah celebration which she had enjoyed with her two beautiful African-American friends as they celebrated the coming of age of a Jewish classmate. In fact I was picking out a Barmitzvah card (the male equivalent in case you didn’t know) for another school-mate of hers. But I was also picking out graduation cards for two young Nepalese friends of our family who are cousins from Kathmandu, and who are graduating from UMSL this weekend. Then we were about to be off to the Cabaret in which we would swim in an ocean of mostly gay men and sparkling cabaret performers. And just to top it all off, we befriended a vivacious man who shared our table at the cabaret who appeared to be Native American, decked out with a gleaming collection of silver rings and bracelets contrasting beautifully with his dark skin.
It was like a day at a living museum. Or, well, like a cabaret. I love every moment of these experiences and just want to drink it all in and not miss anything. It reminds me of one of my favorite rock songs, (I Wanna Live In A Dream In My) Record Machine, by Noel Gallagher (formerly of Oasis). It sounds way better with the music but the lyrics to the chorus go like this:
I wanna live in a dream
In my record machine
I wanna piece of the world
And everyone inside my mouth
And all the money I waste
Is it a matter of taste?
I wanna piece of the world
And you can't make me spit it out
Enjoy life’s cabaret. May you love, sing, laugh and cry today and every day.
On this beautiful spring morning, I have been enjoying my Sunday morning meditation quietly in my back garden (I prefer the British phrase to the American “back yard”). I just allowed myself a few minutes to enjoy the wonder of just being alive and relishing the details around me. The soft green grass below me, the subtle fragrance of the euonymus vine behind me, the cacophony of birdsong overhead, and cup of earthy, dark roast coffee in my hands.
My reverie was interrupted by a tickling sensation on my arm which I immediately assumed to be a small insect. I instinctively started give it the brush-off, but then my sense of wonder made me more curious than irritated. Taking a page from poet Mary Oliver, I drew my arm closer to my eye and studied this little ant and her antics as she navigated the tiny hairs on my skin, eventually reaching the tangling fibers of my t-shirt sleeve.
Anyway, the point is that this weekend I’m just drinking it all in. Last night, Betsy and I enjoyed an entertaining evening at the Gateway Men’s Chorus’ fundraising show, Cabaret Risqué. The emcee reminded us at the end that we had laughed, and we had cried, and that means the cabaret evening was a resounding success. Indeed, life is a cabaret, old chums.
For me this means a sense of awe and wonder, not only of the natural world, but of the network of mutuality (M.L. King) that has connected me and my family with a dazzling array of interesting friends and acquaintances. I was struck by this yesterday as I was standing in the greeting card section at a local Walgreens. I had just come from picking my daughter up from a Batmitzvah celebration which she had enjoyed with her two beautiful African-American friends as they celebrated the coming of age of a Jewish classmate. In fact I was picking out a Barmitzvah card (the male equivalent in case you didn’t know) for another school-mate of hers. But I was also picking out graduation cards for two young Nepalese friends of our family who are cousins from Kathmandu, and who are graduating from UMSL this weekend. Then we were about to be off to the Cabaret in which we would swim in an ocean of mostly gay men and sparkling cabaret performers. And just to top it all off, we befriended a vivacious man who shared our table at the cabaret who appeared to be Native American, decked out with a gleaming collection of silver rings and bracelets contrasting beautifully with his dark skin.
It was like a day at a living museum. Or, well, like a cabaret. I love every moment of these experiences and just want to drink it all in and not miss anything. It reminds me of one of my favorite rock songs, (I Wanna Live In A Dream In My) Record Machine, by Noel Gallagher (formerly of Oasis). It sounds way better with the music but the lyrics to the chorus go like this:
I wanna live in a dream
In my record machine
I wanna piece of the world
And everyone inside my mouth
And all the money I waste
Is it a matter of taste?
I wanna piece of the world
And you can't make me spit it out
Enjoy life’s cabaret. May you love, sing, laugh and cry today and every day.
