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Joy and fear and the Hudson Valley 

There is a place on the NY Thruway, between exits 18 and 19, where the road turns to the right and offers a first glimpse of the Catskill Mountains. Every time I see it, I feel my blood pressure going down and my joy increasing. It feels like a homecoming. 
  
When I was a kid, my parents had a business that transported people to and from the Catskill mountain resorts; places like The Concord, Grossinger’s, and Nevele. I remember the ride up, and the majesty outside the car’s windows. I loved the mountains! I still do… 
  
My recent Hudson Valley tour brought back those old memories, and created wonderful new ones. I loved meeting the kind people at my gigs, and folks like the photographer who owns an art gallery in Red Hook, dedicated to images of horses. I am still thinking about the gourmet chocolate I wish I had bought at a fabulous Kitchen Market. 
  
I was grateful for the opportunity to introduce my songs to new people, and am happy to report that they made new friends. It was thrilling to reconnect with an old friend whom I hadn’t seen in forty years, and was fun to make a Facebook friend into a real flesh-and-blood person.  
  
There were also scary times in cars! My friends and I broke down on a dark road after my first gig. I was deeply grateful to have them with me. We were stranded without tow or taxi, and it worried me to think what could have happened if I had been alone there on the side of the road. 
  
There was also a bad choice of route home that led me onto five-lane-high-speed roads that scared me. I had listened to Siri when I knew better. I will try not to do that again… 
  
Whenever I leave the Hudson Valley, I feel like I am leaving home. I look forward to my next visit. I just wish that I could beam myself there, Star Trek style. 
  
It seems there is always fear mixed in with joy. Is that true for you too? 


 

A lesson from a tree 

Before I moved here, one of my new neighbors scared me. She told me that she wouldn't live on my side of the building, because she was afraid that the tree outside my new home had potential to break and fall on my windows. The fear was not ungrounded, as a tornado whirled through here some years back and took down mature trees. 

I started to worry. It was an oddly shaped tree, and it did lean in my direction. I moved in anyway, and now I would be heartbroken if anything happened to "my" tree. 

I started to tell you about him in my last entry. As I have gotten to know him from my living room window, I see that he has many faces. I have lived with him for a month now, and I keep finding new ones. I have watched him go from being leafless, and presumed dead, to being dressed in light, new-spring-green, soon to be darkening into summer.  

There is something distinctly special about him, and that is his beauty. I wouldn't trade him in for any other tree. He made me think about what it takes to be lovable. 

Its not about being pretty enough, or thin enough, or "successful" enough, or anything else that ends with enough. It is about each of us being uniquely ourselves. It is about being authentic, and embracing our own essence.  

I have a feeling there will be more lessons from this tree. He is my favorite new neighbor.  

Do you have relationships with the trees around you?


(If you leave a comment, please check back. I always respond...)


All Moved in! 

Sometimes it feels like I live in a tree house! Sitting on my sofa, all I see looking out my windows are trees. My favorite one looks a bit scrappy from the ground, but up here, I can see his many expressive faces. I watch the squirrels nesting in his hollow places and listen to the birds singing songs of new beginnings. I like it here. 
  
There are traffic sounds and lawn mowing sounds, and children playing. I hear the neighbor walking around upstairs, and although people kept warning me about living below someone, so far, she just makes me feel like I am not alone here. 
  
The cats were initially horrified that moving was a thing that could happen. They broke my heart on moving day, but they like it here now too. We feel at home.

I am reaping the rewards of my pre-move winter of purging. It feels lighter here. It is spacious, kind and hopeful. Moving gave me a deadline to get rid of what was not bringing me joy, and I am grateful. I know there is still more to let go of, but I am proud of how deep I allowed myself to go as I decided what to bring forward. (I kept the biker jacket...)
  
I want to share the feeling here! I am hosting an all-day retreat for women in my new apartment on Sunday May 22nd. There are a couple of spots still available. If you are interested, please email for details. The spirit of the day: to be, and to play, in the heart-centered moment, through creative activities - group singing, writing, art and making a vision board. I will even cook a vegan lunch for us.
  
What does your home feel like? 

Facing forward... 

My friend Jane (not the one in the song) once told me that I was always looking backwards. It stung, because I knew she was right, and I felt powerless to change. At the time, I wasn’t ready to turn on my heels and face forward. There was beauty and love and security in the past, and I wanted to live there. 
  
My early life was divided into before and after, and I spent much of my life trying to get myself back to before. I attracted people and situations that felt like after, and I would try to turn them into experiences that felt like before. Of course, it never worked... 
  
These days, I find myself releasing the past more and more, not only in my heart, but in my home too. I have been saying, for years, that I am going to go through all of my stuff and shed what doesn't bring me joy, but it has been hard to part with things.  Most of these things are tucked away in boxes and closets, and really don’t bring joy. They actually feel more like a burden. 
  
I am moving in six weeks, and that has been a gift of a deadline. I have to touch everything to pack, so it is a good time to assess and discard. I am on a roll. 
  
Yesterday, I donated ten big bags of books. Although the parting stung a bit, I love the thought of the pages coming alive again for other people, instead of living silently on my overcrowded shelves. 
  
I am touching everything, and if it doesn’t bring me joy, it’s out. This is actually fun! 
  
The thirty-year-old leather biker jacket I bought in my twenties, because it looked like the one Kate Bush used to wear, is up next…   
  
(Somehow, it doesn’t feel like a coincidence, that at the same time, I finally booked a mini tour in the Hudson Valley. I have wanted to play there for years. Rhinebeck and Rhinecliff, here I come! There is even the prospect of an additional show. Things go, and make room for the right things to flow in…) 

Are you facing forward?

Sarah's Spell (flash fiction) 

Sarah’s mind always goes back there. Decades have passed, but she still feels like the ugly outsider kid she was, with pimples, and dreams of being picked for the talent show, for the school play, and for being loved. 

The doorbell rings. Kelly barks and runs to the door. It’s the god-peddlers again. Sarah knows they mean well, but she has lost her patience for their incessant efforts to save her. She turns off the light in the foyer, hoping they will go away. 

It would be so easy to join them, to be told what to do, what to think and believe, but she isn’t built for ready-made answers. Sarah was built for questions, detours, and discoveries.

Sarah sits at the butcher-block table. Her fingers trace the cracks in the wood. She has the lemon oil in the cabinet that she was supposed to rub into the surface from time to time, but she never did it, not even once, and the cracks scold her. They shout at her of all the things she has neglected.

Sarah remembers the table before the cracks, when it still lived in Aunt Faye’s kitchen. She can still smell cinnamon challah if she closes her eyes. She can feel the dough under her braiding fingers. She can hear Uncle Mark yelling at the TV as he tries to make the picture stop spinning.  

She misses those days. She wishes she could go back and make things right. She wishes she could whisper in her twelve-year-old ear, and offer guidance, warning and validation. 

Sarah fell under a spell when she was twelve, and now, it is time to break free of it.

(This is part of a much longer piece still in progress. Can you relate to Sarah? I would love to hear from you in the comments. If you leave one, please check back. I always respond. Thanks...)

Eyes on my own paper 

I was reminded recently to keep my eyes on my own paper. I wasn't cheating. I was looking around to see what other people’s lives were like, especially other singer/songwriters, and I was going down the rabbit-hole of envy. 

Like most of us, I can list my shortcomings and my disappointments easily. They live in my heart and have the ability to multiply like bunnies. Sometimes they make it hard to breathe. 

I am learning that when I feel a pinch of envy, I am only seeing a part of another person's life. It is easy to romanticize other artists' experiences, and minimize the beauty of where I am standing. My path is wonderful, with all of its twists and bends, potholes and magic!
 
My new video, “Thank You to the Animals,” was a sparkle of magic. It came unexpectedly, and fell together like it had always existed. I was asked to sing at a “Blessing of the Animals.” I said yes, but had no idea what to sing, so I wrote something. (I am a custom songwriter after all...)
 
When the event was over, people started asking for the words. They wanted to hear it again. They wanted to share it. The song came into the world with wings!
 
Friends and fans shared their pets' photos with me for the video, and I love what we created together. I feel like I have met their dear furry ones while I worked, and they have become a part of the song for me. It also gave me an opportunity to honor a precious cat friend who recently passed on.
 
A simple "yes" lead to a project that is dear to my heart, and I am grateful. I am sitting here today, with my eyes on my own paper, smiling…

(You can see the video here.)


 

Wrestling with myself again...  

Have you ever wanted to do something, and to not do it, in equal measure? It happened to me this weekend, and it is an all too familiar feeling. I wish there really were do-overs in life. I would have a lot of them.

I didn't see the Pope. I am not quite sure why I wanted to, but I did. He was staying at a seminary, on my street, 1.2 miles away!

I tied myself in knots over how to navigate closed streets, crowds of strangers, and my failure to find company. I even had a nightmare about it, complete with overwhelming obstacles and a cast of ghosts.

Now that he is gone, and the window is closed, I see that I could have, quite easily, avoided the city, put my sneakers on, and hiked over to where he was staying to get a drive-by, close-up, in-person, pontiff peek.

The experience has left me pondering my shortcomings and looking for the gift in the disappointment. I am less disappointed about not seeing this leader of another faith tradition than I am about the role of anxiety in my life.

I will remember this the next time I want to do something, and to not do it, in equal measure.

Have you ever felt that way?


(I don't know who took this picture. Sorry...)

Not so very long ago... (a living room video!) 

I was thrilled to have been offered the opportunity on Sunday to play a couple of my songs at the Philadelphia Folk Festival. I was part of a show on the Dulcimer Grove stage, which is where lots of family friendly things occur.

I wanted a new song for the occasion, so I wrote this. It's called, "Not So Very Long Ago."   I was still writing it the morning of the festival.

Down the road, this song will have participate-along parts and hand motions, but this video is the bones of it.

Welcome to my living room...


How do you measure success? 

What does it mean to be a success? Is it something you are, or something you feel? How do you measure it? What does it look like? Who decides?
 
People have been congratulating me lately on my successes. At the same time, I have been feeling like a failure. Which is true?  
 
I have been measuring success in conventional ways. I have never owned a home. I don’t have a family. I have never had much money. Does that make me a failure? Lately, I have been feeling that way, but I am reminded that there is more to measure.
 
I am often told that I influence positive changes in people’s lives. Folks tell me that my songs touch them in meaningful ways. I am a good listener. I am filled with compassion and gratitude. How can I be a failure if these things are true?
 
What is the goal in life? I think it is to make things better for others. In that way, I am on solid ground, but it sure would feel better if I could do that while feeling more secure and at home. I am working on it…
 
In the meantime, I will continue to write songs and send them out into the world. I will continue to hope that they find homes in people’s hearts. And I will continue to hold onto the vision of them buying me a charming little house some day…    
 
(As I was getting ready to post this, I happened upon a quote by Joni Mitchell. She said, “Keep a good heart. That’s the most important thing in life. It’s not how much money you make or what you can acquire. The art of it is to keep a good heart.”)
 
Are you successful?

Cooking from the Heart 

I am at my creative best these days with a knife in my hand. I love to cook! I love the colors and the shapes, the smells and the endless possibilities.
 
All of my senses are engaged as I chop and dice, sauté and bake. Mixing, and kneading with my hands, feels like playing. It feels like home.

Cooking is an intimate art. I feel it in my heart. It calls on intuition and passion, and I always feel better after eating something I cooked myself.
 
Cooking is reliable when other creative endeavors are illusive. Lyrics can be moody. Characters in stories sometimes turn their backs. There are days when I struggle to focus, but every day, I find my spark again on the cutting board.
 
What is your relationship like with cooking?

Two kinds of vegan pizza!