my brother the resident artist

Last night I finally got the chance to see my brother perform at the Vampire Lounge, where he is the resident artist on Wednesday nights. He and a friend with a cello entertain the crowds sipping the "blood of the vine" from about 9pm to 11pm.

M, that's my brother, is a very talented musician. And just like Malcolm Gladwell suggests, he's put in those 10,000 to get where he is now. He not only sings, plays guitar, bass, piano, and drums, but also has taught himself to produce, mix, and edit the music he creates. It's so impressive how dedication and sheer time put in can yield such wonderful rewards.

Last night he brought along two guitars, a ukelele, and a keyboard. My favorite songs were his collaborations with the cellist. With the anchoring notes from the cello counterbalancing M's tenor voice, the sound flowed over us fluidly and was mesmerizing. I can see why a vampire-themed bar would love to have his music fill the space.

It also made me think about my own music and how I miss making it. I've decided to try to join the choir at the UU church and see where I go from there.

Plus... we're going to make a Lindgren family holiday album ... coming soon to a soundcloud near you.

To hear some of M's music that he plays at the Vampire Lounge, check out this youtube playlist, and this live recording , and this one that includes both ukelele and cello!

Why I'm wearing a safety pin

In the wake of the vote in favor of the United kingdom leaving the European Union (infamously known as Brexit), many of my friends in Scotland began wearing safety pins visibly on their tops. Their safety pin was a symbol of solidarity with immigrants who faced a terrifying wave of vocal discrimination after the vote. Some people took the vote as justification, validation of their feelings that immigrants didn't /don't belong in the U.K. and therefore they felt safe making their xenophobic feelings vocal, visible and even physical. The idea behind wearing the safety pin now is that I pledge to stand up for people being targeted by racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic words and acts. Especially in the wake of the election of Donald Trump as the American President given his divisive and deplorable rhetoric. I appreciate the importance of a visible symbol and hope that seeing this symbol will give comfort to people being targeted. More importantly and more likely I hope that wearing the safety pin will start conversations and give me the opportunity to inspire other people to also stand up and take action against intolerance. I have read several articles written by both people of color and white people about the insufficiency of wearing a safety pin. I agree completely, and encourage you to read those opinions as well.

Ijeoma Oluo makes a real and important criticism of choosing a symbolic act rather than actual action in her article.
"All that energy that I had hoped would go toward real-life action in support of marginalized populations who have been fighting this system alone for far too long was diverted to a symbol that most people wouldn’t even notice."

Christopher Keelty offers ideas and challenges people to find more productive ways to show solidarity than just putting on a safety pin in his piece
"We aren’t going to congratulate ourselves on it, we’re not going to wear some stupid symbolic badge that says “Hey, I’m a good white person” so other white people will congratulate us on how woke we are. "

I will continue to wear a safety pin as a symbol but I will not let it replace the actual work that I have committed to. My safety pin means nothing if I do not call people out on intolerant acts and statements.
If I see someone being targeted, I will step in.
If I hear a racial slur, I will speak up.
I will actively increase the number of voices of people of color that I regularly listen to - I will seek out blogs and twitter accounts that offer me new perspectives.
I will question myself on my actions and not just my intentions and take criticism with an open heart.

One month in Beirut

It's been nearly a month in Beirut now.

This city is gorgeous and fascinating. I feel so lucky to be in this part of the world and yet in a stable and prosperous city. Don't get me wrong - there are certainly aspects that show this isn't the US or Europe. In fact, right as I typed that, the electricity went off for the third or fourth time today.  But the sun shines so brightly that I hardly notice the blackouts most of the day.

I've already gone on a couple of adventures - excursions organized by the CLO (Community Liaison Officer). I'm hoping to go on at least two every month and explore as many corners of this beautiful country as I can.

Our first stop on our adventure a few weeks ago was the teleferique, a mountain cable car, that reached from Beirut directly up into the mountains. It was more than a little nerve-wracking as it shuddered over the iron wires.

But we made it!

And then continued walking up the hill to the gorgeous church of Notre Dame du Liban.

Of course, I took an iconic selfie from the very top of the mountain too :)

And we finished up a day in the heights by going to the deepest depths of the city - Jeita Grotto. 

We weren't allowed to take photos inside the caves, but there are beautiful professional images on this website. It was absolutely astounding and made me feel very nostalgic for my inspiring and gorgeous visit to Luray Caverns with K. I miss this amazing woman so much!