Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

November 2, 2010

I finally looked at the calendar to see how many days in I am with this 40 day blog promise:  post something every day for 40 days.


For me, with anything creative I need to walk a fine line of solid discipline and loose expectation.  Hence, I began a 40 day writing commitment, noted it in my calendar, then promptly forgot the dates.

I really don’t know exactly what it is I’m doing here.  Questions abound.  But I have come to this WordPress screen every day for the past month.

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer

I look to a bookshelf by my desk and see the titles which reveal a minute reflection of just some of the threads I follow.  Plenty of books on writing – some of which I’ve read, others just a scan.

However small this gesture, showing up here each day is some way to make an idea tangible.  And in doing so, I watch the questions arise and simply smile.

This Rilke poem was shown to me by Kim Stafford.  Reading it just makes me take a big sigh and relax…

Be patient toward
all that is unresolved
in your heart

Try to love the questions themselves
like locked rooms
and like books written
in a very foreign tongue.
Do not seek now the
answers, which cannot
be given to you because
you would not be able
to live them.

And the point is, to live everything.
Live the questions now.

…perhaps you will
then gradually,
without noticing it,
live along
some distant day
into the answer….

Rainer Maria Rilke

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

November 1, 2010

I’m confessing here (albeit, publicly) that I’m nervous for my radio show today.  Music as Medicine is being called to community radio duty and that entails raising money on the air to support Kauai Community Radio, our island’s volunteer-powered station.  The goal is set for $1100 to be donated during my 2 hour set.

On the Music as Medicine blog I’ll promote the show and offer inspiring and encouraging words of support for KKCR.  It truly is a fantastic community radio station that lives close to my heart.  I’ll tell all my Friends on Facebook to tune in and donate to the cause with hearty enthusiasm.

For some reason, only here in the Archives will I confess my anxiety.  There’s always the chance that no one will call and I will have to quietly end the program without mentioning that I’ve fallen short of my goal.  Today’s show is a bit more nerve-wracking than usual since my typical co-host and ‘pitch partner’ will not be with me.

Up in the dark at 5:45am this morning, I’ve been perusing my iTunes library creating a set list for today’s program and sorting a list of recommended tracks to offer callers that make a donation.  Wondering if I’ve simply piled too much on to my life plate (three fundraisers, multiple clients, doubled workload and a pending trip to California) I listen to Josh Garrel’s “Season of Rain” track from his album Jacaranda.

Here in the beginning light of the day I am instantly transported to a place that only the vibration of sound can bring.  All is perfect and life is good.

Ahhh…the power of music.  It’s good medicine!

Tune in today if you can – 3-5 Hawaii Standard Time on www.kkcr.org.

photo by Jessica Dofflemyer

Here’s to open doors…

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

October 31, 2010

Jeb and I got a last minute invitation to join our neighbors for Halloween dinner.  Instead of wandering the wild streets of town with mobs seeking to fill their candy bags, we nestled in for the company of good friends.

After dark, an impromptu trick or treat expedition of our own took place on our neighbor’s property.  Fruit leathers instead of chocolate along with Japanese candies were doled out by a Captain Kangaroo character under the lemon tree.  Spooky, real-life tales were shared about a “Kung Fu rat” that once jumped out of a closet and landed on a friend’s shoulder.

At the end of the evening, Jeb and I walked back home together without a flashlight.  The moon was no where in sight.  Jeb walked closely by  my side, very quiet and keeping in exact step with me.  In one stretch of our path we walked through a covering of trees, which made it very dark.  Slowly, step by step, we emerged onto our empty one lane street, a bit lighter with all of the stars shining above us.  Everything was silent but for the crickets and the rumbling surf that crashed on the cliffs about a mile away from us.

Sometimes I get spooked in the dark.  But tonight there was no fear.  And I wanted Jeb to walk beside me and feel that certainty.  The confidence in knowing that we can walk through the dark – sometimes without a light – and we’ll be Ok.  In fact, in these moments of heightened awareness and trust, there’s often something magical to be discovered.