Every so often we are lucky enough to come across those people who inspire us to dream a little bigger, dance a little more freely, move with ease within the subjective perspective called reality. And they change us forever, preferrably for the better, but always inexorably. A lot of the time it happens from a distance. We read about someone, maybe they publish a book that has an impact on us, writes a piece of music heard that speaks to the heart. We see them out in the world doing things that impress upon us the sanity of humanity. A balance to the sadness, the anger and fear. And sometimes they are just down the street.
I was lucky enough to encounter an entire group of people like this who have fortunately, not only found each other, but realized that great things can happen when resources are pooled. They are the Dusty Flowerpot Cabaret and can be found here. They can also be found in Vancouver this weekend at the Russian Hall – 600 Campbell Avenue in Strathcona. They are staging a performance called the Listening Jar. I can’t imagine it will be anything less than spectacular and wouldn’t miss it, except that I am here.
It’s a beautiful place to recuperate from tearing one’s thumb asunder, but sorely lacking in culturally creative moments of bliss. So I am forced to create my own. Such as this
Ode to the Dusty Flowerpot Cabaret
I think of flowers and the sounds they make when growing,
the roots that murmur pleasantly and push on
because there is work to be done
the vines and leaves that sing and stretch for sunlight
the buds that titter at the thought of exposing themselves and
soon, darlings, very soon
you will bloom
and your beauty will astonish even the most closed of hearts.
I think of summer days that hum
excited yet lazy and full
with expectation and desire,
a balance of fire
burnished and aglow.
I think of snow
that falls so softly it can even sneak up on itself
And delight in the surprise
of doors flung wide
To find a wonderland of sorts
Where happy revellers may cavort
And enjoy those fruits of their labors
So long worked for, ever savored.
I think of music that moves through a soul
Leaving it forever changed,
forever touched by a bliss
It never knew could exist
beyond the very sweetest kiss.
I think of beauty unbound
and joy abundant.
I think of laughter,
I think of dreams that can’t help
but manifest in reality
for fear they’ll miss out
on what this crew can do.
And shadows that slip away
when one isn’t watching so closely
to have a whirl on the dancefloor.