...to be, or not to be...

I love St. Louis in the summer! So many free activities! In fact, St. Louis has more free activities than any other city I know. Yes, the weather can reach 108 degrees with 100% humidity, but we're still worth a visit! One of those amazing, free activities is Shakespeare in the Park.

Juggling Jeff and the Chinese yo-yo

Every year, Andy and I say we will go to see Shakespeare in the Park, but our odd schedules deter us every time. So Andy picked me up from work tonight and we barreled down highway 40 to Forest Park. When we arrived, the glen was not as covered with people as I'd expected (read: get there early!) likely due to the fact that tonight's performance was a preview of Henry V.

You'll want to go early anyway, because they have a pre-show at 6:30pm and there are so many entertainers to enjoy. Of course, our favorite entertainer is our good friend, Juggling Jeff! When you go, make sure to find him on the hilltop. We guarantee you'll love his show!

I set out our blanket in an open space near the front. We could hear Juggling Jeff, so Andy ran off to watch his show. I sat back, reading and enjoying the cool, calm of the evening, while strolling musicians serenaded me.

The show was fantastic, as always! In fact, this year Shakespeare in the Park is doing two shows, Henry IV and Henry V. 22 actors doing 65 roles on alternating nights. Yikes! There will be a double feature on Saturday, June 7 and 14, and you know I'll be there. I'd love for you to join me.

For more info on Shakespeare in the Park, click here.

For more info on Juggling Jeff, click here.

My favorite Shakespeare sonnet: 116

on the glen

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
   If this be error and upon me proved,
   I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

...me, at my bravest...

...although, if you can be brave and perfect, that would be ideal...

This weekend was, once again, filled with performances. The music school where I teach hosts 14 performances over two weekends every May, and all the teachers and administrators breathe a big sigh of relief (mixed with the tiniest tinge of melancholy) once it's finished. Though it's wonderful to see and hear such a mix of students and teachers perform, it's also incredibly exhausting and anxiety-inducing.

I gave several extra make up lessons this week to make sure some students were prepared, and when I wasn't working with them, I was working on my own songs. I was so pleased with all my students, and the students of all my colleagues. The technique and attention to detail that has gone into their training is superb, and wow did they shine! But more importantly, they were brave.

In case I haven't said it enough, performing terrifies me, like in the same way that some people are terrified of flying or spiders. Standing in front of others and sharing your heart is intimidating and unnerving. There are some songs that we sing that completely strip us bare, and we stand, naked, before an audience, praying only that it will be worth it in the end.

Though I've practiced it for months, this song still hits a bit too close to home for me. Andy confessed at dinner that he fully believed I would burst into tears on stage, and sat there considering what he should do when my break down occurred. Thankfully, I held it together.

Story: Lizzie finally becomes pregnant, only to miscarry and find she cannot bear children. She sits in the nursery, singing to her godson, while family and friends are in another room celebrating the boy's christening. (There is a break in the recording because our iPad ran out of space in the middle of the song, so we had to re-film the ending after everyone had left.)

So, there it is...me, at my bravest.

You go be brave this week, too!

Remember, I'm always cheering for you.

...celebrating mom...

With Andy's strange schedule, it's important that we try to make time to spend together and with others. So Andy and I took his mom, Karen, out for a late Mother's Day brunch to Miss Aimee B's Tea Room.

We picked my in-laws up and drove to the little house on Main Street, so tucked away we almost missed it. It was filled with antiques and lots of silly trinkets, so we amused ourselves to pass the time until we were seated.

I had never been to Miss Aimee B's, and the history behind it is fascinating. One of their specialties is a creamy lemonade made with milk (yes, milk!) and it is delicious! The food was superb, but it was the desserts that just made the meal. I wish I had thought to take a picture of it. I might want to go back just for dessert!

All in all, we had a great time. Then we went back to my parents-in-law's house to view pictures from their recent Grand Canyon vacation.

We're so thankful for Andy's mom and all that she has done for us. We were so happy to celebrate all that she means to us.

How did you make your mom feel special on Mother's Day?

For more information on Miss Aimee B's, click here.

...cardinal nation...

They've been talking about opening it for years, and they finally did, so Andy and I went downtown to Ballpark Village, where we ate lunch and watched the Cards whip on the Cubs. Here are a few pics to sum up the afternoon:

That's my city!

One of many ginormous screens

Playing hooky to see the Cards v. Cubs

The lawn

Lots of games to pass the time

Cardinals 250 cake

So close, yet so far away...

Someday, I said to Andy as we ate Ted Drewes on the lawn, you can bring our kids here and you can watch the game on the big screen while they play. Someday...

Andy's love for the St. Louis Cardinals is infectious. I really wasn't a fan of baseball until I married him. He cheerfully told me all about the village as we walked around, like how the lawn area is on top of the former pitcher's mound of the old stadium (or something like that) and lots of other fun tidbits. Though it was forecasted to rain, we enjoyed the warm sun and cool breeze until we headed down the highway, when the rain began to fall. It was such a delightful afternoon...

If you're looking for a great family activity this summer, I'd recommend this one.

For more information on Ballpark Village, click here.

...feelin' hot, hot, hot...

I was unprepared for the swells of sound that ripped through the room. My dream world shattered, I fumbled and groped around the nightstand for the object making such a racket. 4:50am.

I sighed. The sun, itself, wasn't even close to rising. But rise I did, donning my workout clothes, brushing my teeth, washing my face, gathering up my belongings and driving into the city, to Bikram Yoga Midwest. When I arrived, the yoga instructor greeted me, had me sign a waver, gave me a few instructions and then directed me to the back studio.

Bikram yoga, also known as hot yoga, is a 90 minute class that utilizes a series of 26 poses practiced in a room heated to 104 degrees with 40% humidity. Upon opening the door the force of the heat was so great I almost fell over. I tucked my chin to my chest and marched in, laying out my mat, my towel, my water, and my body in the same manner as the two class members who had arrived early, and breathed in the hot, hot air.

People began to filter in slowly, filling in spaces in the front, the back, the sides. I, of course, happily planted myself in the back. On the first pose, arms raised to the ceiling, I felt a small trickle of sweat run from my elbow to my armpit. I panicked slightly, as this was 5 minutes in and I still had 85 minutes to go. Without a clock to keep track of the time, I decided to put my energies toward ferociously focusing on holding each pose. By the time the class was over, every part of me was drenched...drenched!

...and I loved it! I drove home feeling wide awake and gleefully happy. I felt like I had conquered the world, and it wasn't even 8am. If you're looking for a challenging workout, or would just like to try something new, look into Bikram yoga. If you end up at Bikram Yoga Midwest, tell them I sent you.

I've already signed up for my next class. Do you dare join me?

For more information on Bikram Yoga Midwest, click here.

...dead ends...

The road that led to no where and the path.

I arrived in the cool of the evening, just as the sun had begun it's slow descent into the earth and a chill settled in the air. The fresh scent of spring tickled my senses as I tramped down a tar-covered path, not necessarily paying attention, staring at my phone for direction, only wanting to ensure I had an adventure for the day.

Though I live roughly 20 minutes away, I had never explored Laumeier Sculpture Park. A natural oasis in this urban jungle, the grounds are littered with sculptures by numerous artists, curated and cared for by a team of individuals.  Some sculptures will capture your imagination, like Pool Complex: Orchard Valley and others will make you giggle, like the dog karaoke installation (I can't recall it's name.)

As I walked, I looked up from my phone to realize that the path had come to an end, with work vehicles crowding the empty expanse. I laughed. Just my luck, I thought. I chose the path that leads to nowhere. It seems to fit my view of my life right now. The path to no where. I turned around, more than a bit agitated, cursing the meager amount of wasted time, and started walking back toward the parking lot, when my eyes caught a glimpse of a shrouded path. Oddly, it could only be seen on the return trek back up the road (or I hadn't been paying attention at all.) I continued to walk, weighing my options, when, at the last moment, I veered, and stepped onto the trail.

My guide

I crept with caution, unsure of what might be around the corner. Though I had pulled up a map, it seemed entirely unhelpful in the moment (mostly because I can't read maps.) So I was forced to blindly explore this space where hundred year old trees bend and sway in the breeze. Where a delicate Breath causes the leaves to rustle and respond. I was alone, but not really. My walking companion, a bird, hopping here, fluttering there, always just a few paces ahead of me, as if to say, Follow me. I know the way. To what or where, I didn't care.

As I roamed deeper into the forest, the song of the crickets intensified, while the sounds of the city faded into inconsequential background noise. I traipsed deeper and deeper down the path, forgetting all that was familiar, allowing myself to be swept away by the beauty and mystery of my surroundings. Some installations made me laugh, while others caused delicious shivers to run down my back. My presence was unannounced, but not unwelcome. I felt as if I were an old friend, who had come to sit and hear stories long forgotten, surrendering myself to their narrative. It was a place where you could get lost, but not really.

Forty five minutes later, I found myself back in the parking lot. I paused, not ready to return to my "real life."

I stepped into the car and sat for a moment, silent, steeping. I had learned too much to take it all in at once. But the most important was this:

Don't fret when you come upon a dead end. Perhaps you can only access the better path on the return journey.

To dead ends!

For more information on Laumeier Sculpture Park, click here.

Eye, Tony Tasset
One of the many installations. I didn't take many pics bc
I didn't know what things were okay to take pics of.
Hopefully I won't get in trouble for posting this...

...getting creative...

Too often, I have found that I have either not worked hard enough, or I have given up too quickly. Both realizations are tragic and a tinge heartbreaking. But I'm also realizing that I'm not alone. And it's made me more fervent in my desire to inspire others, particularly my students.

For the fall performance in October my students will perform their own original songs. We will work on several together in lessons over the next several months and then we will perform our best ones. It's been interesting to see the responses that my announcement has garnered this past week. The most common responses? “I can't do it.” “I'm not good at it.” “I'm not talented in that way.”

It is this attitude that defeats me, and I suspect many of you, before we even begin.

Let's remember, talent only gets you so far. You must be willing to work and work hard. Being creative, in anything, is not only for a chosen few. After all the teaching I've done, I'm not sure that I believe in “special” people anymore. Those with a magical gift to do, or say, or create something. I don't believe that it is magic, though some may make it seem like it is. Some of the greatest creative individuals will confess that they have honed their craft through hard work and practice over time. When we bust away the mystery myth, we can begin to create without fear and self judgement.

You've heard Edison's quote, “If we did everything that we were capable of, we would literally astound ourselves.”

How will you astound yourself this coming week?

Looking for ways to get creative? There are tons of articles out there, from mind-hacking to getting tipsy, but this might be a good place to start.