My music companions on the cello journey

Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart. --Pablo Casals (considered to be the best cellist of the 20th century)

"Where words fail, music speaks." --Hans Christian Anderson

This is Sushel from India. We play in the Doha Community Orchestra together. He inspires me because he has learned the cello on his own. When I started, I at least knew the piano and could read music. He learned from books and found a violin teacher who could teach him in India. I am so impressed with his drive to learn the cello. Although I am much older, we  definitely speak the same language. I call him my "Indian son."

My cello journey is an unusual one. I started playing the cello when I was 52 because my son with autism begged me to play the cello. As I listened, sat in his lesson, and tried to help him, we both realized the cello was not going to be "his instrument." Instead, he surprised me by inadvertently putting me on "the cello path"--definitely not a road I was planning or aspiring for. I thank him often for igniting the match to ever prompt me to pick up a cello bow to play. If you want to read more about it, you can read these blogs: My Cello Love Story and The Voyage of Learning the Cello

When students or teachers speak of music education, they often comment about how music helps other subjects, like math, or how it teaches self-discipline or how music brings joy and even healing. Indeed, studying the cello has brought me incredible joy and a sense of accomplishment for tackling something, at least for me, that was difficult. But it has also given me a gift that I did not expect: a new sense of community and friendship--with people from all over the world. My fellow cellists have been from Yemen, France, Columbia, India, the Czech Republic/Philippines, Australia, and the UK. My cello teachers have been from the US, Bulgaria, Germany, and Russia. Each has taught me powerful lessons of not only how to be a better musician, but hopefully, a better person. 

To unite together and create feelings with the silences and space of sound has frequently brought a few tears to my eyes--when I didn't even know I was crying. It is a profound feeling to know that you do not make a symphony alone. Of course, playing cello solo pieces also fills me and gives me great satisfaction--even if I am the only person in the room. But knowing that each timbre of the sound is complemented by layers that everyone creates together is humbling. It puts me in my place. I am reminded of how much I need each layer of harmony that someone else offers to create the greatest beauty. 

One of the best gifts given has been an opportunity to play with musicians who are remarkable musical educators, one who was a professional cellist and then decided to go into another career, and other lifelong cellists. For me, the non-expert, to be invited to play with such outstanding musicians has given me courage, motivation, and the pluck to keep on trying. I wonder how different our world would be if we all would join together unitedly, with no divisions, and invite everyone to participate. I thank each of them for giving me a chance. 

So I would say to musicians: Just as in life, you are amongst amazing people. When you produce the beauty of music, each brings unique abilities. Be patient with them, learn from those who sit or stand around you. Smile, laugh and have fun with them. And I promise you will be surprised at how much the person next to you or behind will teach you. You will never be the same again. 

This is the Doha Strings, minus one cellist. We recently played for my son's solo art exhibit here in Doha. It meant a lot to me that these busy musicians would come together to play for Elias's exhibit. And I have to say, we sounded awesome. We are making a youtube of the event for those who want to hear the concert during the opening of Elias's art exhibit. I love these people!

This is the Doha Strings playing for a Christmas concert at the Ritz in Doha.

I am now also in another group called the Doha Community Orchestra. It used to be much larger, but this is us at a school playing for young musicians and their parents. It was funny to be on the stage with lots of junior and senior high school kids a few moments earlier than this picture was taken. 

My amazing cello teacher, Kirill Bogatyrev, from St. Petersberg, Russia. For my birthday, we went to watch him play a duet and solo of a Brahms concerto for the Qatar Philharmonic where he is the head cellist. I call him an Olympian of the cello. He has taught me so much and I will forever be grateful. I have to say it is marvelous to invite your cello teacher for dinner and have him play some Bach cello suites afterward. 

Introducing the Doha Diva

 Dedicated to all the people who continue to make a difference in this world, even when they doubt their own talents or the magnitude of their efforts. For those people who year after year try to share, work, and contribute in quiet ways, I applaud and salute you. And for those people who don't feel like they have found the way to make the world a little more beautiful, listen more closely to the sparks in the heart that tell you where to shine your light:                         

                                  " In a gentle way, you can shake the world."

                                                                        --Mahatma Ghandi

Katrin Meingast, our Doha Diva, from Dresden, Germany. Katrin was my cello teacher for about two years when I first moved to Doha until she moved back to Dresden a year ago. Since I was her student, I was invited seamlessly into the Doha music scene, which is rich with wonderful musicians. She launched The Baroque Ensemble, with players who play the Baroque style with Baroque music. At the German School, she began music classes after school for the children--arranging music teachers to come and teach. After a few short months, she began an orchestra with the new musicians. She organized The Baroque Chamber Group, and helped with the Children's Concert Choir here in Doha that is directed by Alena Pyne. Her handprint on Doha's music scene was every where.when she left. Yet, curiously her passion for gathering people together to play and listen to music lives on here with us. The monthly soiree musical gatherings she began at her home now continues with others taking the lead. From her influence, I started our own soiree gatherings in our home--one of the best things I have ever done. Here is a blog I wrote about it: A Musical Soiree Anyone?

What happens when one person is inspired to change the culture they are living in? How does the landscape change when one person decides to organize and collaborate to insert their vision? How does one person spark influence that others seek to follow? And how does one person see three steps ahead of what the present reality is? To see how one human being's influence can ripple is hearteningly hopeful. To look upon your talents, even if you think they are meager, and be willing to share, that is wondrous. I am endlessly fascinated how one person can make a difference in a community and in the world.

The cellist is usually a supporting actor role--not the shining role--except for Yoya Ma, and a few other notable cellists. But Katrin elevates the utility and sonorous sounds of the cello to another level for the listener. Since she loves music so much, especially Baroque, she gathers singers, other string and wind players, even percussionists to play together. At her home in Doha when she lived here, a harpsichord donned her living room. Somehow any musician that was flying over Doha, she persuaded to come and play in her home. When she was here, Katrin was always organizing another musical group, gathering, or event. We all felt lucky and blessed to be transferred to other places with her at the helm.

Katrin reminds me of the need for all of us to see what we can do to uplift those around us. There is something all of us can do to make life more just, more beautiful, more kind, more fun for those around us. I like the quote by former president of the United States, Jimmy Carter: 

  "I have one life, and one chance to make it count for something. . . .  My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I am, whenever I can, for as long as I can with whatever I have to make a difference." 

His conviction to make a difference is my resolve too. One star at a time will light the sky. 

Handel's Messiah last winter

Herman, from Ukraine, our friend, who sang in Handel's Messiah.

Katrin, accompanying the Children's Concert Choir in Doha.

At her home in Doha, with a harpsichordist from South Africa accompanying her.

The Baroque Ensemble who played together when she lived here. The other musicians play in the Qatar Philharmonic Orchestra.

Katrin put up a red curtain for the soirees that were held at her home. Her daughter is about to pull the curtain for the magic to begin. Candles were lit, everyone brought food for the occasion. Sometimes a cat would walk across the stage (her living room). The setting was a home, but the music was heavenly. And somehow Katrin, the cellist, or Doha Diva, was able to gather musicians from all around the world to perform. And we, the eager expat community loved every minute--linger memories to savor forever. Friendships were made as we all gathered each month to enjoy the music together. And all because one lone woman wanted to share her music with us. 

Thanks Katrin for teaching me how to play the cello better, but also to see your example of how to make the world better with music. Gathering musicians who are on any level of skill is now a personal passion with me too. To see children who practice all month so they can perform here in Doha at my house makes me very happy.

Gathering Music in Schools Around the World

Orchestra students standing for their ovation at the end of the concert

This past week I was asked to let a high school student borrow my cello. It is a little bit like allowing someone to borrow an appendage of your body--let alone someone whom you have never met. I heard there was an international music festival for high school students here in Doha at the American School of Doha. One cellists's instrument had been broken in the transport from Korea, and she desperately needed a cello (there are not a plethora of cellos in Doha, Qatar). I agreed. But as many things in life that you timorously consent to, trusting in those people who see the whole perspective, the result can be surprisingly satisfying, even joyous.

Daisy, from Korea, who borrowed by cello.

This past week the American School of Doha hosted the Association of Music in International Schools (otherwise known as AMIS). Amis is also appropriately the French word for friends. Two hundred high schools students (going to international schools) had come from five continents--from Japan to London, South America, and Lagos, Nigeria. They had auditioned back in October from all over the world, sending in their music to judges, and had been practicing by themselves at home for several months before they descended on Doha.

Since March is the month people celebrate Music in the Schools, the festival was perfect timing. We attended the gala concert after several days of workshops. I was awestruck at the result of what 200 high school students can accomplish in just a few short days (although they had been working on the music for about four months in their home countries). One of the students commented, "I wish the world could see and understand how we can all come from different persuasions, opinions, politics, and make this beautiful music. Boundaries fade, and we just all share the same stage, with the same goal." Another student said, "My dad was able to come, and I had never seen him wear a tie, and I also had never seen him cry."

I did not have a child up on the stage, but I still had a tear. I was happy that my borrowed cello was a participant up on the stage. It is amazing to view what can happen when people come, unified in purpose and mind, from all over the world--to uplift with their talents and work. As an audience, we all came together for a brief time to see what the cultural arts can bring to society. The fifty countries that were represented are better because of the students who represented of them. One could not only hear the music, but feel the friendships that had occurred in a few days in Doha. Connections and bonds were made because each of these students prizes one thing: music.

As gifted as the students played, it was obvious that each of those musicians had been taught well, by a teacher who had worked with them, patiently, diligently. I salute the students, but the festival reminded me of my own music teachers, my children's music teachers. As Henry Adams said, "A teacher affects eternity. They can never tell where their teaching stops." And since this was an international student music festival, I have a feeling that these musicians will never be the same. They will not allow boundaries and walls to define friendships. It is an important reminder that a teacher can never estimate where all their teaching and tutoring will travel--to the most remote corners of this world. That is the power of a teacher.

A child who plays music may sound ordinary or typical, but you never know the ripples that student will eventually transport. That little child could cross thousands of borders in a lifetime....

Two students from Lagos, Nigeria

Four players in the band from Luxenburg, China, Switzerland, and Germany

A French horn player, hailing from Amsterdam, who goes to school in Zurich.

Obviously, I loved watching the cello section. They were from Korea, China, Taiwan, London, Hong Kong, Japan, Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, Abu Dhabi, India--most anywhere you can think of. Their concert was truly a global project.

A teacher from Brussels, with the students from her school.

A student from London with her father.

Two friends, from Switzerland and Amsterdam

A Musical Soiree Anyone?

If the topic of music lessons or choice of musical instruments comes up in parenting circles, many approaches and philosophies can ricochet around the room. Since I have invested many dollars and hours on music lessons--with several different instruments (x six kids)--I have a few strategies and even still, some questions myself. I consider myself an amateur musician, and the aim was not to prepare them to be virtuosos or divas. Nevertheless, after sitting elbow-to-elbow on the piano bench with my kids when they were younger or helping them with instruments (I didn't even know about), I hoped they would somehow absorb the rhythms and tempo in their souls. Consequently, I was always on the look out--searching ways to have fun with music--to not seem tedious and boring. What would give them that spark or kindling to practice--you know, the big "P" word?

A few of them were able to play in some famous concert halls growing up, but none have chosen it as a profession, which is absolutely fine. Yet it was my hope that music could heal their hearts in times of disappointment or loss. And have their hearts swell with joy too, giving them moments of soul-washing elation. From a family history perspective, I would tell them that after their grandpa learned to play the violin growing up, he was blinded a few weeks after landing on D-Day. Playing musical instruments (he learned three others after he was blinded) enriched his life immeasurably. In his two year rehabilitation, he learned to play the saxophone--to help with the dexterity of his hands. And he always had a harmonica in his pocket to play at a playground or gathering. Later in retirement he played the violin in a band for people in rest homes--sometimes for the residents who were even younger than himself. My daughter, at age five below, begged to learn to play the violin like her grandpa. My family history story about her grandpa worked!

This daughter, for the first few months of playing the violin at age five, would practice on the top of her playhouse--pretending to be the fiddler in 'Fiddler on the Roof.' All of our neighbors in Baltimore, but one, thought it was charmingly delightful. But we honored our next door neighbor's request to "bring the music inside"--until she learned to play a little more in tune. It takes a lot of perseverance, fun, practice, and love to get from this

to this! Two of our daughters, Sarah who accompanied her sister on the piano for her Senior violin concert. Sarah now accompanies a musical group for a major US university, just for the pure enjoyment. and plays for for a lot of activities and gatherings in her community.

One of the best ways I have found to trigger motivation to practice myself, (because I am an adult learner of the cello), with my children, and people here in Qatar is to have a musical soiree. It is simply a gathering of people who want to share their musical talents, and applaud others. I have been organizing musical gatherings for years, but with the absence of many musical choices or venues (there are still some wonderful ones, just fewer), we Qatar expats hold our musical soirees regularly. Nothing else on our schedules can eclipse them. We create our own shows, and even make-shift concert halls here. Sometimes in a room flickering with dozens of candles, I close my eyes for a moment, feeling as if I could be in a Paris salon in the 1700's. Other times my living room has transformed to a 1970's cafe with James Taylor.

My husband says one of the best things about coming to live this Qatar expat life is to monthly attend my cellos teacher's house to hear her Baroque Ensemble she has organized--all of the instruments are Baroque and played faithfully in that style. There is even a harpsichord that is the center piece of the living room. My cello teacher organizes a musical salon every month that we eagerly anticipate with professional musicians from mostly Germany, but some from Prague, Bulgaria, New Zealand, and other far off places. Most of them play in the Doha Philharmonic. There are usually only about 50-70 people at the salon with a delicious international potluck afterwards. But we all know we are the recipients of an exceptional gift every month at the Baroque Ensemble. Each child that comes, including the adults, are riveted and transfixed, as the Baroque music permeates us. For anybody who is trying to learn an instrument, it is a catalyst to keep on practicing so that you can transmit the magic too.

At my cello teacher's house, her little boy prepares to pull the curtain for the Baroque Ensemble--in his own living room.

You can see it is a special moment when he will pull the curtain for the enchanting musical wonderland his mother directs. Children and cats wander through the house. There is an occasional ruffle of a child's play. But it is all that more special. We feel like we are perhaps in Bach's home himself.

Katrin, my cello teacher, an opera singer from Germany, and the harpsichord player from South Africa. It is a rare treat to hear professional musicians monthly in someone's home--for the pure pleasure of playing music together. The price? Bring a potluck dish.

To give children a love and gift for music is like giving them another language. As Hans Christian Anderson, the Danish fairy tale writer said, "Where words fail, music speaks." I know that my son with autism has a tremendous connection with music, and did from an very early age. Sometimes his singing has caused people to shed tears with his pure sincerity. That's what music does: it touches The Divine in all of us--not only entertaining us, but giving us holy moments. To understand that golden tongue of music requires practice, encouragement, and I believe, going to some musical soirees where friends and strangers can applaud your efforts. My favorite compliment after any soiree I have hosted is when a parent comes to me and says, "My child came home after the soiree and started practicing for the next one." Soirees have the power to encourage children (and me too) in the journey of learning instruments--plus creating a wonderful community in the process. 

                Here are a few pictures from our soirees in Qatar--lots of magic floating through the air!

A group of teenagers entertaining us, with rousing claps and whistles in the background. A little sister is looking on, in complete rapture.

         

This family has six kids, and never fails to come to our soiree. The oldest brother is accompanying his little sister on the ukulele. Each month people prepare to perform for the audience in  our living room.  

V. singing a song from Jamaica. Although our living room is not a concert hall, it still takes guts and courage to preform for strangers and friends.

Steve giving the younger generation some Beatles, and after an encore, played some more.

K is an adult learner of the violin. She says that she determined to play every month at the soiree so it prods her to practice.

                                  Here are some video clips of some soirees in our home through the years.

Here is a youtube of our 19 year old son who had an English choir boy voice when he was 11:

youtube.com/watch?v=KPbPBecWpY8 A few years later he sang this song with his cousin at his grandpa's 

funeral.

Last Christmas, with my daughter at the piano, playing Christmas songs with our friends from Normandie, France. Do you notice the backdrop of the Christmas tree fabric that I got from Ikea? There aren't many Christmas trees in Doha!

Herman, our good friend from Ukraine, who teaches piano, guitar, and voice here. We always feel so lucky when he comes to play for us--sometimes crooning like Frank Sinatra. He transforms us to different places with his Ukrainian folk songs and can even sing some French songs in French. 

The voyage of learning the cello

I began playing cello when I was close to 50, and successfully auditioned to be in an orchestra in Doha last year (I think they needed cellists, but hey, I got in). I could liken it to embarking on a very scenic voyage. In these past four years, I have learned many things--not only about music and the cello. I have also met people who have greatly enriched my life--from unfamiliar places like Bulgaria and Yemen. Yet a few times I have wondered why I ever got on the voyage in the first place. And even possibly if I got on the wrong ship?  Occasionally the "musical" waters get deep and tumultuous. But I have resolutely stayed on--even if the waves swirled and tossed me around. Here is a post of 'My Cello Love Story' from almost a year ago that chronicles the reason I ever started cello in the first place: http://trekingonward.blogspot.qa/2015/02/my-cello-love-story.html

Each of the cellists in this section are from a different country.

One of the best things about learning the cello have been my teachers. They have been from all over the world: the United States, Bulgaria, Germany, and Russia. Each of them are uniquely trained, and have not only taught me about the techniques of playing the cello. I have learned other meanings of risk-taking, persistence, focus, exactness, and sheer determination. Today my German teacher said to me in our lesson, "It's not about the tempo. It's about perfection." I had to smile.

My cello teacher, Katrin Meingast, here in Qatar, who directs the Baroque Ensemble and German School music program.

I think I would have got off the ship long ago if it had not been for my first cello teacher. I remember when I was discouraged, she said some very wise words that resonated with me, and now I try to apply it to my life. I said, "I know I am playing 2nd, 3rd, and 4th positions on the cello (I was already familiar with 1st), and I am doing it. But I can't visualize it. I don't even know the notes I am playing." She turned to me, and said, "You know enough. Just keep playing, and everything will fall into place." I can't tell you now how many times I have said, "You know enough" when I am playing the cello and attempting the unknown in other facets of my life.

My first cello teacher, playing some chamber music.

I have been stand partners in my orchestra with cellists from Australia, Yemen, the UK, Columbia, and France. The Australian cellist said to me in the beginning of the year, "There's room for everyone on the bus here." The UK cellist commented, "We have such a good mix here, don't we? (coming from people who have played their entire lives, and even one of them being a professional). I appreciate their patience in me, and their willingness for me to sit on the bus next to them. It makes me want to do the same when I am on other buses with people who are beginning something that I may know more about. As Louisa May Alcott's mother once said, "Encouragement is the greatest teacher."

My Yemen cellist friend came to my house to help me get ready for an orchestra concert. I will never forget him marching around my kitchen while I played, clapping his hands to the complicated rhythm. His English was minimal, and we would talk to each other with his I-Phone dictionary, as he looked up the words in Arabic. We somehow understood each other with the music that we loved and a few common words we knew. If anyone would have seen those teaching moments in my kitchen, they would have roared with laughter.

My Yemen friend  (in the middle) who so kindly taught me more exact rhythm, 

Most of the time last year my stand partner was a 14 year old ninth grader from France. I did not know when I said good by to her at the last concert in May that she would not be back this year. Her family decided to  move back to France in the summer. I miss her. More than anybody, in her quiet, gentle way, she taught me how to play in an orchestra. She would point her bow to the musical symbols, smile at me, nod, and we would whisper a little together. We were unlikely stand partners--probably that you would not see anywhere else in the world. Yet our "stand partnership" worked.

My French stand partner

Playing the cello, I tell people, has allowed me to see some staggeringly beautiful scenery and gone to places I never thought I would visit. But without the fellow passengers who have taught me so much, the journey would not be so grand.

Our holiday concert

Some lessons from the Cello:

1) When you play in an orchestra, everyone, no matter what instrument you play, all tune on the A to begin the orchestra practice each week. Every week as we tune together, I always think that with all our different instruments, nationalities (I would say there are 15-20 in my orchestra), opinions, persuasions, we all begin united--on the same note. This simple tradition or regimen in the orchestra always reminds me that with all our differences as peoples or in even a family, we can find the same note to begin our dialogues. We can even stay on tune as we navigate through our music or in our relationships.

2) Everyone has a chance to shine in an orchestra--not only the violins. Sometimes the harmony comes from the violas, cellos, flutes, clarinets, oboes. In Gustav Holst's symphony, The Planets, a euphonium has a solo. We take turns playing the harmony; in one song the harmony can rotate and switch around to various instruments. We are a group that enlivens the other, and applaud when others have solos or the harmony. We strive for a beautiful counterpoint or polyphony together--the interplay between various harmonies and rhythms. 

3) Sometimes I have to quickly retune--checking and adjusting the strings.  I do not want to be discordant, thus, affecting other's melodiousness. I know that my dissonance can affect the rest of the orchestra.  Just as in life, my mood affects the rest of my family or group I work or reside with. Sometimes I need to pause, check, and get back into tune.

4) Sometimes I play the wrong note, but as my Russian teacher says, "Just keep up with the rhythm, and don't worry about a fumbled note." If I make a mistake, in an orchestra piece or in life, I just get back into the pace or rhythm.   

5) One night our British orchestra conductor, after our feeble attempt to play Dvorak's 'A New World, said, "That sounded very impressionistic." I thought that was a very kind way to say that we were not playing balanced and together. In other words, the notes were blurred, not exact; our playing of that rendition stunk. To find ways to instruct and teach with humor, and not with the sting of criticism, is always the better route. 

6) It is so exhilarating, liberating, refreshing, to learn new things--especially things you never planned on but just came your way. You know enough!!!! 

Visiting Gallipoli...

I have been reflecting this week about the northern peninsula of Turkey called Gallipoli, located on the Aegean Sea and the Dardanelles Strait, a shore where over 250,000 young men died in an ill fated campaign during World War I one hundred years ago. Two years ago my husband and I went on a trip to Turkey where we visited Gallipoli, a place where young men from Turkey, Australia, New Zealand, the UK, France, and India (about 15,000 Punjab Indians who were professional soldiers in the Allied effort that history scarcely remembers) fought. Nations and lives were altered forever on this quiet beach that knew so much bloody, brutal warfare. 

• One of the very moving parts of our trip to Gallipoli was to be with some of the people on our tour from all over the world. There were people from India,  the U.S., Canada, Vietnam, the UK., Turkey, and Australia--some of the very countries that were in battle together at Gallipoli. This is Helen, who had three great uncles die during that eight month campaign. There were red poppies everywhere, and we were instructed by the Aussies that the red poppies are used even now to remember the lives of those who were lost at Gallipoli. The reason Helen is smiling is that she is so very joyous that as a group we found the names of her ancestors. On the tour there was not a great amount of time to wander and meander around to find the names. But with the 25 of us searching, we found the names she came to Gallipoli to see. This young man named Vagg was newly married. She said her great aunt never remarried. I will always remember all of us from many nationalities in our group combing through the names on that day, with red poppies in our hands. I was glad we were there in April to view all the red poppies along the roads and hillsides, reminiscent of Gallipoli.

This is a picture on the Anzac shoreline with our Aussie friends. John, who is a retired PE teacher and spends about 30+ hours a week bicycling/racing on the shores near Melbourne, sings old ballads as he rides. In typical Aussie fashion, he was witty to the core, and all of us on the tour loved him. But the day we got to Gallipoli, he was very solemn; you could tell he had been imagining this visit for many years. He promised/warned us on the bus microphone that he would sing for us on the Gallipoli beach. To our delight, he kept his word.. I will never forget his moving, haunting rendition of " And the Band played Waltzing Matilda' on the Gallipoli beach. The song is about a soldier who loses his leg at Gallipoli. It is a different song than the bush ballad called "Waltzing Matilda" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WG48Ftsr3OI

Gallipoli was a stalemate, a campaign that was doomed for ultimate failure by leaders who miscalculated military strategy, weather, and provisions--a heavy loss for all those involved. However, the heroism, selflessness, and courage of those who fought there is moving, as they battled side by side. Those young men and their officers experienced extreme heat, cold, hunger, and disease, amidst the cascading bullets. The landing and battles on the Dardanelles Peninsula helped create more of a unified, national consciousness in Australia and New Zealand, and was the first time these two countries were commanded by their own leaders who were not British.

Although the Allis initially underestimated the Turkish soldiers, they quickly learned to respect their military skills as they fought in combat against them. The eight months of fighting in Gallipoli would later give the 34 year old Lt. Commander Mustafa Kemal Ataturk the courage, confidence, and foundation to later form the Republic of Turkey. For both sides, it was a defining moment for them-- individually and as they unified their nations.

Our Turkish tour guide who taught us about the Turkish side of the campaign too.

Since my husband's father landed on Omaha Beach, Normandy on D-Day and was blinded in the push to Paris and his grandfather fought in Belgium in WWI, his thoughts on Gallipoli in his journal were particularly poignant: "Driving the landscape here in Gallipoli is strangely reminiscent of Normandy. The beaches, hills, forests, and field are now silent. So many young men died in d difficult and hand to hand conflict."

This picture moves me so very deeply--especially when I have several sons who are the same ages as these same boys.

 "We started at Anzac Cove, the place of the ill fated landing of the Australian and New Zealand troops in 1915 where they went to the wrong area; there were cliffs and rugged terrain to contend with, instead of a broad and strategic beach. The beach marker drifted in the night about 4 km, leading to an ill fated and doomed offensive position by the Allies. Looking at the map, one recognizes the cost of this trivial mistake, which entirely changed the course of this battle. The landscape was harsh, and seeing the immediacy and complexity of that bloody fight was apparent. But all is quiet now at Anzac Beach and Lone Pine."

"I found myself thinking a lot about my dad this morning, and how difficult his life was returning from the war without his sight (his father married his college sweetheart after the war WW II, and then had seven daughters and one son, my husband. He never saw any of his children, but only remembered the 22 year old face of his future wife. He always joked that she was 22 to him, even when she was in her early 70's). I bought three beautiful wool Gallipoli scarves for my four sons, and will have to express again my gratitude that they have not been required to fight in a war. It is impossible for me to comprehend the loss of a son or daughter in their youth, not being able to fulfill their dreams--to have their parents' dreams dashed for them.

"The memorials and cemeteries in Gallipoli were compelling and powerful, from all of the countries. One stated the following, "He died a man, and closed his life's brief day, ere it had scarce began." Those are difficult words for any father to read. I remembered again my own father's displeasure when I returned home from shopping for my five year old birthday present--a chrome plated metal 1911 replica colt pistol, a cap gun. It brought back too many painful memories for him. I didn't understand his emotional response then, but I finally understood when I went to Normandy as I walked the acres of graves in a foreign land."

It was very touching to read what many families had written about their beloved sons, brothers, and husbands. Since I had a 17 year old boy at the time, this Australian boy's snuffed out life seemed very close to me.

Not far from the Gallipoli battle fields, these lush, vibrant canola fields seemed to stretch out forever. The bright sea of flowers, capped in yellow light, reminds me that those brave young men, whatever country they are from, will be remembered forever too.

My Favorite Poem about Gallipoli, written by a Turkish poet:

-Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives ... You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side here in this country of ours ... You, the mothers who sent their sons from faraway countries, wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.

Happy Easter from Italy! (part 2)

When I was 20 years old, I carried a beloved and tattered copy of The Agony and the Ecstasy by Irving Stone to Rome so that I could prepare to enter the Sistine Chapel as I traveled around Europe with my Eur-rail pass. I could never have predicted how much Michelangelo's ceiling and sculptures would change me that day. I was washed away with awe and rapture; my neck had a serious kink in it by looking above for hours. I wondered how he managed to paint the larger than life prophets and people on the ceiling--even on ladders in his 70's. I continued to read everything I could about him, even his poetry.

Since that day, I have looked to art many times to fill my soul, to cascade it with light and beauty. I have been blessed to enter many beautiful galleries, cathedrals, and homes to view art that have taught me more goodness and understanding than I would have known otherwise. I have strolled, walked, guided my children around art museums since they were weeks old, and frankly, now we guide each other. One of the reasons I fell in love with my husband is because he also can spend hours and days in art museums; we have stood in front of a few paintings and sculptures with some tears. Although I am not an artist, I am grateful to those who bring sparks of light and luminosity to us, across the span of millennia. 

With the Easter weekend before us, I have been reflecting on the many experiences that we can have with art and music to prepare for this season--to ready our souls to be open to the redemptive words at this special time. I am grateful for new wells or enthusiasms that give me replenishment, that stir and awake chords of memory and discovery. 

With our recent trip to Switzerland and Italy, I was again awestruck at the grandeur of these artisans who created with great force and finesse--seemingly unfatigued and relentless. Caravaggio, the great Italian artist of the 17th century has been a favorite artist for many years, but I discovered at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence another artist this trip that made my tears drop. The Dutch painter, Gerrit von Honthorst, painted some superbly intimate moments in Christ's life. http://www.gerrit-van-honthorst.org/ 

One of my favorite books, Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner describes two couples on their sabbaticals, lapping up art and culture in Italy when their children are grown. One of them reflectively says, "I know many people have read Milton's Paradise Lost, but have they read Paradise Regained?" I have to say heaven was found again in these places. I know I don't have to travel to find paradise; there are wells all around us to renew, refresh us when our souls become tired. Sometimes heaven or paradise is lost, and we have to regain it again. We have to go find it. 

Lessons Learned this Easter: 

1) Remember the whispers that resonated with you a long time ago, and try to discover them again. There are always old and new wells of replenishment to uncover and locate. 

2) Songs, words, artwork can breathe new meaning--even if you have heard or seen them countless times.

3) The soul needs to be constantly filled. Finding out what nourishes you, makes you more alive, is so very important. I am grateful I found out a long time ago on a ceiling in Rome one of the ways to fill my soul--drop by drop. 

On the second floor of the Mercado in Florence where there are many cafes and small restaurants. There were decorated Easter decorations in Italy and Switzerland ( See Blogpost about Easter, part 1) if you want to see all the Easter decorations), but the religious artwork this time of year washed our souls with breathtaking beauty and awe. 

In the Bern, Switzerland Cathedral

This is a carved sculpture on the outside of a cathedral in Basal, Switzerland.

This is a special stained glass window at a remote village, way up in the Swiss Alps, called Innerkerken. My dear friend, Annagreth, grew up in this valley, a short distance walk from this church. 

Botticelli in Uffizi

A painting by Gerrit von Honthorst, Christ Before the High Priest

One of my very favorite artists, Carrevagio, painted this painting of Thomas when he saw the Lord--insisting that he touch His wounds.

The Duomo in Florence

This scene was to represent the empty tomb in The Basilica of the Nativity in Florence. Close to this tomb is the inscription in Latin that states, "Where you are I once was, and where I am now, you will soon be." 

The Duomo Dome, with its layers of people at The Final Judgment. We climbed 473 stairs (two cupolas) to the top so that you could look face to face with the frescoes. 

The dome at the Baptistry, next to The Duomo in Florence

At the Medici Chapel next to San Lorenzo Cathedral, 

Michelangelo's sculpture of "The Day"that he created for a Medici tomb. Interestingly enough, Michelangelo purposefully did not carve his face, showing that when death comes, none of us ever finish everything we intend and desire to do on earth. 

Michelangelo's St.Matthew in the Academy

The Pieta that was supposedly done at the end of Michelangelo's life. Some scholars dispute if it was done by him or not because of the disproportionate body of Jesus.

Michelangelo's Pieta at the Academy

Bronze reliefs of Bible stories at the Duomo in Milan, Italy

At the Milan Duomo, with the Bible scenes cast in bronze

Some Easter music:

Today in Doha Qatar, I heard two brothers who are in the Vienna Boys Choir sing this song. They are here for a week with their family, as a break from their choir and school in Vienna. I had never heard this song before. The hope and love that Easter brings, along with the earth that is changing around us is so beautifully articulated in this song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27p98aLPZPI

Now the Green Blades Riseth, French melody, lyrics my John M. C. Crum

Now the green blade rises from the buried grain,
Wheat that in the dark earth many years has lain;
Love lives again, that with the dead has been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

In the grave they laid Him, Love Whom we had slain,
Thinking that He’d never wake to life again,
Laid in the earth like grain that sleeps unseen:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

Up He sprang at Easter, like the risen grain,
He that for three days in the grave had lain;
Up from the dead my risen Lord is seen:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

When our hearts are saddened, grieving or in pain,
By Your touch You call us back to life again;
Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springs up green.

I was also able to hear excerpts from the St. Matthew Passion Oratorio by Bach this week at a musical
soiree at my cello teacher's home. http://www.wsj.com/articles/bachs-st-matthew-passion-1412376095

Perhaps it is because I live in the Middle East and needed to find some new wells this year to fill my cup,
but I feel so grateful for artists and composers, known and unknown. It is always wondrous to  encounter
some new wells, wherever they are in the world.