For the Birds and Robert J.

  Mindfulness has taught me to be in the moment, taking it all in, noticing things large and small, subtle or not. Clouds in the sky.  The hum of insects in a field.  Even the very breath that sustains our life.  It is so easy to miss these things as they blend in to the tapestry of life around us.  But because they are part of that tapestry, they are literally part of the fabric of our lives.  They are life.  Like the cliche-It's not the destination, it's the journey or something along those lines, it is true!  Sometimes we get so caught up in trying to get somewhere and because of that we miss so much of what is the essence of life along the way.

  As I said, it is so very easy to let these seemingly insignificant things blend in to the background of a busy life.  But with a little practice it can be just as easy to be mindful of life's simple moments and pleasures, even to the point that it can help you through more difficult times (don't forget to breathe...) or provide perspective that can be invaluable when the shit seems to hit the fan.

  And with more practice, mindfulness becomes a habit, noticing life's small wonders where before there had only been the mundane.  So as I was out walking early one morning recently, I enjoyed several different birds singing their songs.  A call and answer sequence between the same species blended with several other bird-songs, and seemed to form a natural jazz with my breathing and footfalls forming the rhythm.

  As I marveled at this and smiled,  I was transported back to my pre-teen years, waking and getting ready for school.  Every morning my sisters and I were greeted with the sounds of birds chirping and singing...on the radio.  At 7 am, seven days a week Vermont Public Radio (and other public stations in New England) aired a program called Morning Pro Musica, and it's intro was not a theme song or other typical show opener.  The show opened with a minute or two of uninterrupted birdsong. And eventually a deep, resonating voice would slowly, and deliberately, and with....many........long..................pauses,  bid you a good morning and introduce himself and the show.

  He was an original.  He was a bit quirky.  He was a New England icon.  He was Robert J. Lurtsema.  And thanks to him and Morning pro Musica (and to my Dad for having that radio on and tuned to VPR 24/7)  I now have an appreciation for classical music, for public radio and for the simple pleasure of listening to birds sing.

Robert J. (as he was known)

click for a listen:  Morning Pro Musica intro

-one more note on Robert J.  I remember my parents dragging me (do we have to??) over to Windsor Vermont, home of the VPR studio for what must have been an early anniversary celebration for the station. Bo- ring.  I believe we toured the studio and the offices but it must have been pretty unremarkable-I don't remember a thing about it.  What I do recall, as we were walking down the street after this "memorable" tour, was looking back to see a minor commotion as a car pulled up in front of the small studio building.  Out of the car came a man, distinguished but no one of note to me.  "That's Robert J."  my Dad said.  And for a kid of eleven or twelve, I was actually impressed!  He had come to be a part of the anniversary celebration and broadcast from our own little VPR studio (he always did his show from WGBH in Boston I believe).

Peace to the Planet and to the birds....