Hurry up; take a breath; savor the sunrise; no time to waste. Slow down; pause at the sound of bird songs; smell the flowers in my garden. Sing to quiet the babe, to rock her to sleep, to quiet my soul. Outta time, Outta rhyme.  

All those things I’ve been meaning to do, meaning to say, meaning to forgive… Outta time, Outta rhyme.

All those coulda’s, all those woulda’ and shoulda’s, but do I still wanna’s???? Outta time, Outta rhyme. 

Dance a jig with my love. They might not be here tomorrow. I might not be here the day after. Too late, no second chance. Outta time, Outta rhyme. 

Learning to, no, grasping at, accepting life’s limits, my limits, the limits of time, of aging, of ambition (where did it go?). Frightened by diminishing independence while searching for more meaningful interdependence. Outta time, Outta rhyme. 

Sadness at what I’ve always wanted to do but still have not accomplished. Regret for the things I wished I’d done but didn’t. Did I lack the courage? Or perhaps, I just couldn’t see where I was going and didn’t trust the journey to give me the answers. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next time (will there be a next time?). Be brave. Take that risk. Outta time, Outta rhyme. 

But let’s not forget the joy, too. There has been more of that than I ever dared to dream.  Grateful for what I have, so much, so much. No reason to be sad. And yet, some loved ones are already gone. I miss them deeply. They were out of time before their time. And yet, by some miracle, I am still here. Despite all the see-sawing, life has been spectacularly fine! Blessedly good. Outta time, Outta rhyme… Now’s the Time!

-Marcie Meditch
March 2024

(Everybody Loves You!)

This piece was written to honor the positive spirit of a dear friend who lifted the hearts of many. She has left this earth. But she will always be with us and would want us to “keep the party going”!

Inspired by an excerpt from a poem by Wendell Berry “The Wild Geese”, this piece came about as an assignment for a composition class. My selection of this particular poem was due to a near spiritual experience. While standing in my garden, early one morning, I heard or actually felt, a whooshing, pulsing, vibration right about my head. Looking up, two dozen geese were flying overhead, very low to the ground….but in complete silence! Only the perfectly synchronized motion of their wings, like a soft, gentle, rhythmic drumbeat, floated down to me. I remained perfectly still, feeling their silent blessing wash over me.

Below is the poem excerpt:
Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

-Wendell Berry

See The Full Score

(Thanks B.T.)

‘Rejoice’ is a bookend to the piece ‘Storm’s A-Comin’ that I wrote at the beginning of the COVID pandemic. Two years later, the ‘storm’ appeared to have passed and we were all cautiously optimistic that the disease would no longer rule our lives. It was a joyous realization! I came across a piece by the great jazz pianist, Billy Taylor (B.T.) also called ‘Rejoice’ and I found my inspiration for this piece; a way to express that joy and sense of relief of surviving the pandemic. So, thanks, B.T.!!

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(BEM’s Lament)

How do you acknowledge the loss of a parent? It took me 2 years, after the passing of my Father, before I could fully express that loss. The theme of this piece is a lament but also a celebration of his life. 

My Father was a horseman, naturalist, and avid birdwatcher, as well as an amateur jazz piano player. And, most memorably, he never forgot his childhood dream of being a cowboy on the western prairie. 

During his final years, there was a particular bird call that seemed to follow me wherever I was walking. I always felt comforted by its song. My father helped me identify that songbird: a White-Throated Sparrow. So now, when I hear its song, I know my dad is still with me….and always will be. The ‘loping’ left hand melody speaks to his cowboy dreams of ambling across the plains on his beloved horse, Billy.

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Nothing like cruisin’ through nature on a sunny day. This piece was written in honor of my son’s 35^th birthday and his deep affection for all things mountain-bike related.