Thank you for your words of Susan, my heart especially aches tonight I just miss her letting myself move through the grief as I reflect on her enormous influence on my life as she did also so many others …
For me it was the silence after the lush sound of her voice left. She made that space, that silence as rich as velvet and as sacred a space for us to rest in. She was herself sacred and will be remembered that way by me. Thank you Susan for being.
I think of Susan sometime moments of every day. The Chapel and the concerts are ever in my heart..even decorating the Porta potties with Winnie one year. Missing Home and those sacred times.
Thank you for this post. As I sit here listening to her angelic voice, my heart aches from being so filled with love that it is forced to expand beyond its limits, my soul joins her voice in song, and my spirit rejoices. Tears of gratitude fall from my eyes as her voice washes away all grief and fills me with joy. Ave atque vale, amica divina!
Beautiful. Susan is on so many of our minds and in our hearts this Solstice/Christmas season. I only got the privilege of attending 2 or 3 of these chapel concerts, but all that was said here by you and Bryan brings those memories, chills, cheers, tears, laughter, and the hush of wonder right back here into the present and she is here again with us.
For those of us for whom this is a 'first' Christmas without a beloved, heartfelt wishes that you all be held in the arms of mercy and love and may you see your beloved in the stars and moonlight of this sacred time of the Long Nights.
One year, we had snow. And the community refuge was Doty's A1, wisely set up with propane grill and lamps...and heater.
The lunch tables and benches meant lots of visiting and swapping stories and hanging around longer than chowing down breakfast. I was settled in with my friend, concert producer AnneMarie Lewis.
An older couple staggered in and ordered breakfast. They sat at our table, and we started chatting. They said they were new to the island, and their pipes froze. They were happy to score a warm spot and some grub.
I asked if they were going to Susan Osborn's Christmas concert that night. "Who is Susan Osborn?"
"You don't know?! Ok...do not even question this...you have to go. The concert is at this small chapel in a valley. Tradition."
So they not only decided to go, driving in snowy conditions, but to give us both a ride, as he had his car rigged with tire chains.
So, the couple? Frank and Jan Louden. From that experience, artist Frank painted the moonlit chapel with the warm glow of the intermission cider. How many thousands cherish their framed print of this scene, bringing back vivid memories of Susan's voice, glorious music, smells of cinnamon, and the many angel volunteers.
A fun PS to this: Frank later admitted he put the snow chains on the wrong tires! And the painting on this column is by David, not Frank.
Thank you for your words of Susan, my heart especially aches tonight I just miss her letting myself move through the grief as I reflect on her enormous influence on my life as she did also so many others …
For me it was the silence after the lush sound of her voice left. She made that space, that silence as rich as velvet and as sacred a space for us to rest in. She was herself sacred and will be remembered that way by me. Thank you Susan for being.
I think of Susan sometime moments of every day. The Chapel and the concerts are ever in my heart..even decorating the Porta potties with Winnie one year. Missing Home and those sacred times.
Every comment here expresses exactly how I feel, on my knees with gratitude for this post, the music, the art and the comments..
Thank you for this post. As I sit here listening to her angelic voice, my heart aches from being so filled with love that it is forced to expand beyond its limits, my soul joins her voice in song, and my spirit rejoices. Tears of gratitude fall from my eyes as her voice washes away all grief and fills me with joy. Ave atque vale, amica divina!
Beautiful. Susan is on so many of our minds and in our hearts this Solstice/Christmas season. I only got the privilege of attending 2 or 3 of these chapel concerts, but all that was said here by you and Bryan brings those memories, chills, cheers, tears, laughter, and the hush of wonder right back here into the present and she is here again with us.
For those of us for whom this is a 'first' Christmas without a beloved, heartfelt wishes that you all be held in the arms of mercy and love and may you see your beloved in the stars and moonlight of this sacred time of the Long Nights.
One year, we had snow. And the community refuge was Doty's A1, wisely set up with propane grill and lamps...and heater.
The lunch tables and benches meant lots of visiting and swapping stories and hanging around longer than chowing down breakfast. I was settled in with my friend, concert producer AnneMarie Lewis.
An older couple staggered in and ordered breakfast. They sat at our table, and we started chatting. They said they were new to the island, and their pipes froze. They were happy to score a warm spot and some grub.
I asked if they were going to Susan Osborn's Christmas concert that night. "Who is Susan Osborn?"
"You don't know?! Ok...do not even question this...you have to go. The concert is at this small chapel in a valley. Tradition."
So they not only decided to go, driving in snowy conditions, but to give us both a ride, as he had his car rigged with tire chains.
So, the couple? Frank and Jan Louden. From that experience, artist Frank painted the moonlit chapel with the warm glow of the intermission cider. How many thousands cherish their framed print of this scene, bringing back vivid memories of Susan's voice, glorious music, smells of cinnamon, and the many angel volunteers.
A fun PS to this: Frank later admitted he put the snow chains on the wrong tires! And the painting on this column is by David, not Frank.