Lifelines and Memories

A wonderful post from one of my favorite blogs — “ARE YOU THERE, ERMA? IT’S ME, SYLVIA.”

"ARE YOU THERE, ERMA? IT'S ME, SYLVIA."

Sylvia and Erma are swapping stories over coffee this morning and sharing some of their favorite memories. The longtime friends and stalwart supporters of each other’s dreams agree that they are not living in the past or pining for the future at all. They use the memories and aspirations they have to garner strength and save themselves and each other on the tough days.

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“You may grow to love this person but remember they are not yours to keep. Their purpose isn’t to save you but to show you how to save yourself. And once this is fulfilled; the halo lifts and the angel leaves their body as the person exits your life.”
~Lang Leav

Two decades ago…they blinked.

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“…a new failure — and I have had enough of it.” (Vincent van Gogh, born on this day)

Before leaving Saint-Rémy, he wrote to Émile Bernard:

“…And yet, once again I let myself go reaching for stars that are too big —
a new failure — and I have had enough of it.”


Remembering Allan Holdsworth

I was saddened to read recently of the passing of Allan HoldsworthThis is a transcription I did a long time ago of his “In The Dead Of Night” solo. I saw him in the fall of 1983 and remember how much he inspired me.

“Hats off, gentlemen—a genius!”

—Robert Schumann, Review of Chopin’s variations on Mozart’s “Là ci darem la mano,” Op. 2 In “Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung”, Vol. 33, no. 49 (December 7, 1831)
 



“You do something not because you want to — you do something because you have to.”

“You do something not because you want to — you do something because you have to. And I don’t mean you have to because you’re being told but there’s a compulsion within you, there’s an obsession…”

—Paul Stanley, Paul Stanley on Rock and Roll – YouTube

 

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Alfred Stieglitz, From the Back Window – 291 (1915)

Determination

Yet all the precedent is on my side:
I know that winter death has never tried
The earth but it has failed: the snow may heap
In long storms an undrifted four feet deep
As measured against maple, birch and oak,
It cannot check the peeper’s silver croak;
And I shall see the snow all go down hill
In water of a slender April rill
That flashes tail through last year’s withered brake
And dead weeds, like a disappearing snake.
Nothing will be left white but here a birch,
And there a clump of houses with a church.

—Robert Frost, The Onset

“…a new failure — and I have had enough of it.”

Before leaving Saint-Rémy, he wrote to Émile Bernard:

“…And yet, once again I let myself go reaching for stars that are too big —
a new failure — and I have had enough of it.”