Anne

                                            

Anne Elizabeth McNallen McCarren. 

Today is all about honoring a woman who has made a BIG impact on my life. She died during COVID, but she lived over 90 years well. She was a child of God, a nurse, a wife, a mother, a grandmother, an aunt, a great-grandmother and a friend. 

She was tiny in stature but huge in heart. 

She, along with my grandfather, raised six kids, including my dad. 

She worked full-time as a nurse at Butler {Pennsylvania} Hospital. As

an Emergency Room nurse, she was on the frontlines of helping people. She understood that humans are put on earth to serve others, and that we each are called to a vocation. Grandma's vocation was than of a nurse. She retired from the hospital but remained a nurse. 

She loved Pittsburgh sports. I remember being at her house and always seeing some Pittsburgh sports team on the TV. Grandma had a special affinity for baseball and the Pittsburgh Pirates. 

She adored my spouse. 

Grandma knew who she was and her faith in the Triune God was strong. It was with her that I first visited a Christian church {Roman Catholic} When I made the choice to accept Jesus and get baptized, she was so proud of me. 

She had some strong opinions and did not shy away from expressing such opinions.  I remember some wonderful, spirited conversations with her over the phone. We consoled each other in 2016 regarding a certain "Buffoon's" antics on the national and world stage.  #IYKYK .  

By her example, Grandma taught me to be firm in my moral beliefs and to stand up for what I KNOW is right. 

Sometimes when I open my mouth, Grandma Anne's words come out. I learned my strength and fortitude from her. 

Happy Heavenly Birthday Grandma Anne. I give thanks for you today and every day. 

In the Name of the Triune God...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

        

Journalling

                              Butterflies, to me, are symbols of resurrection & transformation. Photo by Sarah Beth. 

I'm in therapy-- again. 

This therapist is REALLY good. I've only been working with her for a couple months, and already I see some BIG progress. 

She has me keeping a pen-and-paper journal. As someone who has been a writer since she could hold a fat pencil in her hand, I've kept journals. As a matter of fact, I credit the journals-- and the skilled therapists-- got me through a turbulent adolescence that was horrible mostly due to the fact that I score high on the neurodivergence scale. 

I did not talk much at all. I wrote. 

However, as I did my best to continue this practice into adulthood, I admit that it was an epic failure.  Well-intentioned, I would buy pretty hardback journals with the intent of writing something every day. 

 I'm someone who can remember in detail, how to get to a place that she'd been to only once before but fails miserably at keeping track of her phone. Yep, I am the classic ' Absent-Minded Professor" Archetype. 

I suck at commitments, so I sucked at journalling. 

However Great Therapist suggested that I do the following: 

1. Keep track of gratitude by writing down at least three things for which I am grateful each evening. 

    Lately it has been " I am grateful for air conditioning." 

 2. Write letters to people to tell them things that are on my heart, but I cannot {yet, if ever} say out loud. 

   This is also very helpful, as I am processing the sudden death of a beloved man who was like the older brother I'd always wanted. 

   I've also written some shitty poetry here that, thank God will never see the light of day. 

3. Use the journal as a Brain Dump. 

    Sometimes stuff just needs to get out of my head and onto the poor unsuspecting paper. 

Am I the most faithful person regarding spending time with my journal every day? Meh. 

Am I better with keeping the journal than I was in my teens and 20's? Yes! 

Today I am grateful for the gift of wordsmithing. 

Namaste...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

   

Therapy

 Hi .. My name is Sarah Beth, and I am currently in therapy. 

I'll say that again. I am in therapy. 

To be honest, due to a lot of life occurrences, I've been in and out of talk therapy for a big portion of my life. I'm NOT ashamed to admit that I need professional help-- and I am of the opinion that no one should feel shame about seeking help. 

Life sucks sometimes, and there are trained people who can objectively give us tools with which to cope with life's suckitude. 

Sadly, I used to feel the stigma attached with getting professional help for coping with life. My parents used to pick me up from school for " a doctor's appointment that was really for my weekly visit with my analyst. 

Hush hush hush. 

Thankfully, in the 2020's most people are enlightened enough to understand that talk therapy really can be part of a comprehensive health-care plan for some people. 

Some people need therapy for a short time-- or for a specific issue. 

Others, like me, need some professional guidance on how to navigate a scary world of scary people who do not understand neurodiverse brains. Face it: people are complex and can be cruel and sometimes it helps to have that unattached ear and voice to help navigate being human in a soul-crushing would of humans. 

I've learned that not all therapists are a good " fit" for each client. My current analyst is amazing: I've only been working with her for a month, and I can see the benefits. However, my last therapist did not have the full set of tools to help me. I am sure he is a good guy who really does want to help people, but his skills and my needs did not align. 

Talk therapy is healthcare. 

Namaste, y'all...

Sarah Beth McCarren 

Another Dear Doc" post: a lot of piano content

                               " Doc" at one of her happy places, the organ at St Michael's Basilica, Pensacola FL 

Dear Doc...

I have not written one of these Letters to Heaven in a while. 

That does not mean that I don't think of you-- I do think of you and miss you every day. When you first died, I spent several months writing " Dear Doc" letters in a spiral notebook. This practice helped me feel closer to you as our relationship changed from both of us being on this Earthly plane to one of us residing in Heaven. 

Your " homegoing" {as you so lovingly referred to death} was the first significant loss in my life. For 45 years, I'd not experienced a profound loss, and for that fact I am grateful. Both my parents are still alive and healthy, and until you died, all the deaths I'd known that were close to me were people who were sick and/or elderly. 

I remember the last time we saw each other. Nathaniel {may his soul rest in peace and power, too} messaged me on Facebook and said something to the effect of " Your better go see my Mom now, if you are planning to see her at all." Our brief visit is something that I will cherish for the rest of my natural life. True to form, you did not wish to talk about yourself, you wanted to hear everything about me: since our e-mail correspondence of 22 years had slowed down with you declining health. 

Anyway, here is an update: 

I am doing well in my piano study.  A lot of what I do is more like physical therapy. For instance: my teacher has me doing drills with my hands, strengthening my muscles and { more importantly} starting to heal those damaged neural pathways from my birth injury. You'll be glad to know that I mastered the " 8-Finger Scale" using one hand at a time, and the next task is for me to master the 8-Finger -Scale using both hands at the same time. Oy, vey!

 I won't lie, this is hard stuff. When I was at UWF and in your choir groups, I'd always admired how your fingers would, with amazing agility, play the scales for our warm-ups. Your years of dedication made scales look easy to the {then uninformed} observer.  It took me several weeks, but I did master the 8-finger scale using one hand at a time. My teacher told me to start and end my day with prayers and scales.   She, like you, is a woman of deep faith.

I am also reading music now. Learning music really is like learning a new language, and languages are not my strong suit. Thankfully I am persistent. My family says, more accurately that I am STUBBORN, and they are not wrong in that assessment. 

Interestingly, I find that learning some pieces from a book of " easy" {relatively speaking, of course} classical works for piano helps me with reading music. I've discovered that the styles of music that I prefer to learn to play - Rock and roll, popular, and Broadway can be much harder to read and to play. I've found that, once I master one of these pieces, they are my go-to pieces when I need to play the piano, rather than practicing new material. The Beatles' Let It Be is a piece that I play/pray often, and it comforts me. 

Hey you-- stop laughing! :) Yes, I am the smarty pants student who replaced your CD for the Music History class with one of my bootlegged Aerosmith CD's one April Fools' Day. 

Thanks for the introduction to classical music. While I am still very much a rock and roll gal, learning music theory by playing parts of the classical masterworks has given me an appreciation for the genre. However, I'll always choose The Beatles and the Beach Boys over Beethoven and Bach. 

Brian and I transformed one of our spare bedrooms into a studio for me. Like yours was in your East Hill home, my Music Room is my favorite room in the house. My piano, ukulele, Brian's guitar, and my two overflowing bookshelves are in this room. Additionally, I've added many souvenirs from trips taken and framed photos of loved ones to shelves in this room. It is a beautiful space, and so " Sarah" .  :) 

I know you are proud of me, and I also know that you understand why we'd not been a good piano teacher/ beginning piano student team. Students from your studio are amazing, but I feel that I might have disappointed you with my clumsy hands.

My teacher's first career was as a nurse, and she's done graduate-level work on using piano to help brain-injured people. My progress will be slower due to two things A} I'm a middle-aged adult beginning this incredible journey and B} clumsy hands due to my right and left-brain halves not communicating well. I'm okay with working slower-- and you know darn well that it has taken much personal growth over the years for me to admit that fact aloud. 

I love you, Doc, and I miss you. Yet I know that *** somehow*** our souls will be reunited. Until then, I'll keep making music daily. 

Love,

Sarah 

As Fathers' Day Approaches....

                                                     My Dad and brother.. circa 1979-80? 

Fathers' Day is this weekend. 

I have a wonderful father, and I celebrate him daily.  Dan {" Dad" to my brother and me} does more for his family than anyone I know, and I've learned a lot about how to be a decent human from my dad. 

He's active in his community is engaged with what is happening in his community, is an avid reader and sports fan. 

I like to think that my best qualities are either inherited or learned from Dan. 

He is an amazing human, and I get to call him " Dad". 

I have an Earthly father with whom that Creator of The Universe blessed me. 

However, not everyone has the Dad I have. While I celebrate my own father this weekend, I also realize that this weekend might evoke negative emotions for a lot of people. 

Father's Day does not hold the same cultural " ooomph" that is found with Mothers' Day, but I realize that it can trigger sadness, pain, or anger in some people. 

Some had a dad like Dan, but he has died. 

I see you and honor your sadness. 

Many people's relationship with their father is strained. 

Your sorrow is valid. 

Some never knew their father's name. 

I'm sorry. 

Other people dealt with absent or abusive fathers or father figures. 

I'm sorry. You did not deserve that sort of treatment from a parent. 

This weekend, celebrate the fathers and father figures in your life.  But if you see on social media that someone really dislikes this day, please scroll on. If you must, ask them gently and without judgement, why they seem hostile towards Father's Day. Respect them if they choose to share, and don't pressure them in any way to share their story. 

In other words, don't be a jerk. 

Really, it is that simple. Be kind. 

Namaste...

Sarah Beth McCarren 
 

My Space to " Be"

                                                      My " Music Room" 

Vacations are wonderful, and I am grateful for the opportunity to get away for a few days. 

For many reasons, I am glad to be home.  One of the biggest things that I missed when we were away is my " music room" and my piano. 

Since taking the piano on a road trip to the mountains is impractical, I packed my ukulele and the instruction book from which I am working. 

One of the biggest reasons why I am glad to be home is that I've missed my daily discipline of working on the piano. I spend half an hour each morning working on assignments that my teacher gives me. If i have time in the evening, I enjoy playing pieces that I've already learned. 

Since taking the piano on a road trip to the mountains is impractical, I packed my ukulele and the instruction book from which I am working. 

Making music daily is physical, emotional, and cognitive therapy for me. Currently my assignment is to build strength in my finger muscles, my teacher has me doing five-finger drills up and down the piano-- using both hands at the same time! {oy, vey} 

Today I went to the music room and played my assigned drills. My fingers felt a wee bit stiff from their time away from the daily strength training, but I still completed the drills that are assigned for me. 

When I was on vacation, I played my ukulele daily {and probably drove my family " around the bend" by playing the same songs again and again. Playing a fretted instrument works the hands differently than piano work and is not the same cognitive workout that working at the piano is for me. 

Yet music making is joy-full for me, and a way which I meditate and pray. Whether it is me and my uke or me and my piano, daily music-making is essential to my total health. 

It is also essential that I have my own space, my " room of her own". Vacations are wonderful, but I am at my best when I am secure in my surroundings. I'm grateful that Brian gave me the physical space to have a " music room" . I struggle with a lot of depressive episodes, as well as some few & fa between} manic episodes, and having that safe sanctuary in my home helps me stay or get centered. 

"Your personal history is a part of what happens with your hands and your head when you play music" ~Dave Grohl 

Amen and amen again. 

I'm safe in my music room: it is just me, the piano and my " shit".  And as I play, the " shit" evaporates. 

Playing music-- even simple piano drills- makes me healthier and whole. 

~Sarah Beth McCarren 

Roan Mountain Photo Essay

                                             The top of Roan Mountain, in Tennessee. 

Brian and I took a HIKE today. 

More accurately, we hiked TWICE today Our first hike was easy-- it was a leisurely half-mile. 

 The longer, two-mile hike that we took was much harder. It was a bone-fide hike through the side of a mountain.  The trail was NOT for beginners, or anyone with physical limitations. Both Brian and I are in good physical condition, and the trail challenged us. 

Here is how we found this amazing, exhausting place to hike:

Last evening, some friends who live here during the summer months, told us about Roan Mountain State Park in Tennessee.  We woke early, ate breakfast {and COFFEE, of course} and drive down Beech Mountain. The park is easy to find, we just veered right at the foot of the mountain rather than or usual left-hand turn towards Banner Elk. Roan Mountain is just over the NC/TN border. 

We TRIED to find the park of the park that is part of the famed Appalachian Trail, but that effort did not yield fruit. However, the view from that mountaintop is AMAZING. 

                                               Me contemplating the beauty of God's Creation. If we ever come into some money, I want a summer place here in these Appalachians. 

First, we hiked an easy half-mile trail that went around the " river" {it is more like a creek}. This was marked " easy" on the trail map, and we had no problem hiking the half-mile trail. 

                                          The " creek" that runs through Roan Mountain. 

 The second, longer hike was two miles long and ran along the edge of the mountain. I am grateful that Brian had the foresight to buy hiking poles, because-- as healthy and fit as we both are-- the poles were needed to maintain balance on this trail. It started up a HUGE, rocky incline. 

                                        The " small rock" at the beginning of the two-mile trail. Brian is amazed at the huge rock formations of these mountains. I'm thankful that North Carolina and Tennessee had the sense to preserve these mountains, rather than ruin them by strip mining for cola and now raping the hills for fossil fuel gas. 

                                          

I led the way through most of the hike, but there were certain parts of the trail where I let my husband, a former park ranger at home in Florida, take the lead. Tennessee State Parks does a pretty good job of maintaining these trails, but there were certain parts where the trail was hard to navigate. 

Thankfully, there was no time constraint, because both Brian and I needed several breaks, especially after climbing the steep, narrow inclines. 

We saw some beautiful scenery. Honestly, there are no words {in English at least} to describe these mountains. They are among the oldest geographical features on Earth, and every time I get totally immersed into the Appalachian forests, I feel a connection with the Holy Other. 

                                         Brian on the difficult trail. He is such a good sport! This was on one of the rare {relatively} safer parts of the trail. 

              

                          Me on the trail.  I look surprised. Everything is so GREEN and lush here. We were deep in the woods when Brian snapped this photo. I'm resting my upper body on my hiking pole. 

                                                  " God's Country"

We are tired and sore. However, our souls are full. I love our Pensacola life, but a part of my DNA is Appalachian. 

Peace, love and music, friends...

Sarah Beth McCarren