what we can't not listen to

I have learned this year to sing for spaces, regardless of whether or not people are listening. It's something that helps me stay in the moment. Tonight was tough. The last show of the year and I wasn't into singing to spaces because the people weren't listening. Right there, that's the drama of being a musician. My favorite story was years ago when the literacy council asked me to sing at their valentine's day party. There was a line-up of readers and the room hung on every word. I think poetry readings and my songs fit really well together so I was looking forward doing my set for this audience. I was introduced and wouldn't you know the second I opened my mouth to sing my words, people started gabbing. Like it was intermission. Like my words didn't matter and I wasn't even there. I have to admit that I was pissed.

So here I am again tonight. Part of me says well it's on me to inspire people to pay attention. But that, historically, has taken me down a pretty negative road. So, note to self: ask the booking agent whether or not it's a listening crowd before agreeing to play. Just as a head's up.

In general it's been a rough week health-wise. I am having a lot of uncomfortable symptoms of detoxing. The worst is late at night and the sound of blood wooshing through my ears is deafening. It almost drowns out the ringing. It's entirely possible that the neurological damage of my ringing ears cannot be reversed. But the wooshing and the pounding pounding blood vessels all over my body. It's intense. Someone make that go away.

Hmmmm, talk about a captive listening audience. This is one song I can't not listen to. Noisy bloody music.

now, and now

So, one of the additions to my house is a far infrared sauna (with a mini trampoline!). I've been warming myself a couple of times a week. It's weird. Sometimes it's like my body craves it, like exercise. Then, other times my head pounds and I can't stand the heat and have to leave the space well before I'm 'supposed' to.

I've been so focused on the health stuff that I've neglected the song I was working on. The muse has flown for now. I hope it won't be one of those cast-away songs because I liked the premise: the idea that in your dreams you see the truth of who someone is, the idea that when your dreams have disappeared you gravitate towards their truth because you have none of your own.

I know a thread of melancholy runs through my music. As much as I'd like it to be a thread of contentment and play, it's not that. These days I have no dreams to speak of. There is nothing that I'd like to do. So I want to write a song to grieve this loss. The gain, I suppose, is learning how to be in the moment more often. My dream -- if you can call it that -- is to feel here. The moment is extraordinary and overwhelms me. I sit in the sauna and watch the temperature light waver and the minutes count down. My only moment is to feel the sweat gather in folds of skin, on the small of my back, under my hair.

I wish I dreamed of tomorrow because that is what Americans are supposed to do. I would lean into it with everything I had, if only I had a picture of what I would do or could be. But I see no threshold to tomorrow. I just see now, and now, and now. A non-dream that will not fade.

One Lap In

Sports metaphors are a little foreign to me, just like war metaphors, but track & field is a little different. I remember being 11 and running across a field at recess and thinking, "This is what life is. This is free." I wasn't thinking in words back then. As soon as I hit 7th grade, I joined the track team. I was in track until I graduated high school. I wasn't great, but I was ok. I loved the strategy of distance running. Each lap has its own goal. The first lap is about establishing your pace.


I'm one lap in. I've started some things but I'm not yet going full throttle with the detox. I had a mini tour to contend with, which was truly a blast. I tried out some songs that'll make it to my next album and got feedback on them that makes me believe I'm finally finding my voice. Good stuff. The 4 days of travel, performances and socializing took their toll and so I got a week-long head cold as a souvenir. But I was feeling good for the tour which told me I'm doing better than I think.


Six days into the persistent head cold and a little voice in my head said, "Go get acupuncture." I can't describe how happy my body gets when it's got little needles stuck all over it. It just says a big THANK YOU over and over. Again, not in words. Day 7 and the infection sort of just melted away like spring snow in sunshine. Unbelievable.


A couple of things I notice about lap ONE: The body can adapt to probably anything (and this gives me so much hope as we head into the years of intense climate change):

• I can drink the juice of a whole lemon in a little bit of water without squishing up my nose anymore.
• I can eat a Granny Smith apple without my teeth going fuzzy.
• I'm no longer eating meat but I feel as if I have plenty of energy.
• My body sometimes craves the heat from sauna session. It's almost like a runner's high.
• I don't need to eat as much salt. I virtually eliminated it based on something a doc told me about salt being acidic (the process of detoxing involves alkalizing the body) and now I think my taste buds have changed enough that just a little salt seems like a lot of salt. Weird for the girl who used to down a bag of potato chips because she 'craved salty things'. 
• I'm starting to feel "normal" and I haven't even started the intense part of the detox yet.

In truth, I suppose it's hard to say whether or not I'm one lap in or have 1 lap to go. Life is not a 1600 meter run. We rarely know when something is over. I guess maybe that's why sports are so satisfying; the ending is known. But I think the point of living is learning to love being in the game. I'm in the game.

California Style

Ladies and Gents, it's officially begun. Well, sort of. It's a California Style start. I see the starting line and I'm in uniform and I'm backed up a few paces waiting for the gun, and I really need to pee from nerves.


I got my heavy metals detox plan from my doc last Friday, and I've begun a few things: a total organic vegetarian diet with lots of extra qualifiers -- no processed foods, no wheat, no artificial sweeteners, no dairy, etc. I've starting sucking down the juice of one whole organic lemon every morning before I break fast. I've started the vinegar baths and the sauna sessions (felt pretty crappy, but I suppose that's the idea).


Doc said don't start the heavy duty part of this detox until after my travel this weekend. Which is fine, because I don't have any money anyway to purchase said heavy duty items. Hoping to earn a few extra bucks on the road. So, I hold up my tumbler of lemon water and cheers to good performances and generous crowds!


The Lancaster, PA house concert with the charming Joy Ike is sold out. It's nice when 30 folks = sold out. :-) I'm also sharing the stage with Daryl Shawn in two cities: Bryn Mawr, PA and New York City. That's Saturday and Sunday. His acoustic guitar style has the breezes of California and Mexico blowing through, and he loves what he's doing so his performances are kind of undeniable.


I'll get to explore the wonderful world of organic vegan restaurant offerings in Philly, Lancaster and Manhattan. I'm looking forward to that. The only bit of melancholy is that my Harvest & Snow song didn't finish itself, although perhaps on the drive east tomorrow.....? I'm about 5 lines shy of the finish. And a few paces shy of the detox start.


Beginnings, completions. I'm optimistic this fall.

harvest & snow & kate bush & ponies

So here's the deal: I met with a naturopath who encouraged me to switch the phrasing in my head every time I think about my health. Apparently our bodies don't hear a negative, so a phrase like "I don't want to get sick again" becomes, to the body, "I want to get sick again." Weirdly enough, I have found I talk to myself all the time in phrases using negatives. It's been trippy to catch myself in the act and rephrase. I know this puts me on the path towards dreamy new-age get-your-attitude-right kinds of stuff, but I'll be damned if it hasn't made a little bit of a difference.


I do sort of believe most of our demons are in our minds, so to take the battle there is profound, however you choose to fight. It's only hard if you believe it's hard.


I've finally started messing around with songs again. Yay! Right now I'm on the hunt for a song called "Harvest & Snow". I hope it'll be finished in time for my November shows; it seems like the kind of song that's open to being finished soon. Not like a few others that simply elude me (you know who you are).


I've made a kind of pact with myself to write songs just for myself....again. I find that I have to forget the audience a little bit in order to be honest. After all, I'm not some enormous artistic presence or influence who has thousands of people holding their breath for what I'll say next; the soul I'm saving is mine, really. So I might as well get on with it.


I've been inspired by going back to albums I listened to when I was 17. Kate Bush's "The Sensual World" is high on my list. Holy cats, it puts me there. And so is Joni Mitchell's "Wild Things Run Fast". Yeah, I guess I was a strange 17-year-old. "It takes cheerful resignation, a heart of humility, that's what it takes, a cheerful person told me. Nobody's harder on you than you. Nobody's harder on me than me." Shouldn't I have been listening to "We are living in a material world, and I am a material girl."????


Anyhow, 17 has been on my mind and running through my veins too. I blame reading the Twilight Saga books and watching the movies. This story is like a direct conduit back to the energetic and emotional realities of being 17, even through the average writing. Enough time has passed that feeling all that isn't entirely unpleasant. I wouldn't have been able to say that 10 years ago. It's sort of a sweetly charged melancholy, newly colored by gratitude. And the leaves scrape over the sidewalks in flurries of wind, and the colors go bright to fading fast, the crows flies towards the sunset again, every evening. It's all so perfect.


Time expands. I'm restless and bored with adult living and all the familiar motions. I start my metals detox next Friday. A year of that and then let this pony out to pasture. I'm tired keeping it safe and domestic.

Dumbness of it all

When I was in high school I happened across a show on PBS that had a character who said something I've never been able to forget or shake: Sometimes we get lost in the dumbness of it all.

I've been trying so hard to listen to what my body needs, to learn about what's going on, and to find the right practitioners to help me on my path towards well-being and health. But there are so many voices and so many paths I could take. How does one know if the path is a direct course or a long and winding road?

Yeah, I stole that phrase. It's a good phrase.

I sit here at my computer at midnight with insomnia, a pounding head and a metal-tasting tongue. I met with an herbalist last week who set me on a path for 30 days to work on reducing inflammation and viruses and fungi and god knows what else. She believes the metals will resolve themselves if my systems are working.

But chicken or egg, man. Which is it? Do metals take hold because of inflammation and fungi and immune suppression, or do they cause it? Can it be both?

Is drinking half a lemon in 4 oz of water helping to move out the crap or is it making it worse (like the metallic tongue) because my body doesn't know how to move out crap right now?

I've got all these questions and no answers. And no sleep. And no food in the house because the fridge stopped working 2 days ago. And no fridge.

So, that phrase popped up in my head tonight. It's not a bouquet of roses or a thank you card or a free trip to Cancun, but it's solace of some kind. Sometimes we get lost in the dumbness of it all. Sometimes knowing we're lost is almost like being found.

We forge on

Since I've last written, a few promising things have happened. First, I've done some traveling without falling ill afterwards! On the heels of a long weekend to visit family I had another weekend of shows, three in a row. Again, no extreme fatigue! I have to mark this moment because last October at this time I was having a very different experience. It's important to acknowledge progress.


Having said that, by all accounts the metals detoxification process I'm selecting is slow, and hopefully not debilitating, and could easily take the next year of my life. I hadn't anticipated such a long term prognosis for treatment, but again what builds up over a life is not always shed in a day or a month.


I'm aware of thee things as I go forward: first, that I believe I will get better. I am admittedly terrified of the detox process based on past experience -- and metals chelation therapy can be quite dangerous --, but I truly believe this is the next course of action and it's worth it to get to the other side. I'm going to get there. Second, the cost will be substantial. Whether I go the intravenous route or the sauna and supplements route, there's no way around the fact that this process will cost thousands of dollars and consume much of my waking hours. Third, health insurance, by my early research and estimation, doesn't cover a lick of this healing process. I know there are many views on how health care should happen in our nation and I respect that quest. However, I have to say no one should be looking at a bank account statement and weighing that against how they choose to heal. This is the weirdest perversion, and anyone who doesn't understand that has never personally been sick and wondered how they will pay for their course of treatment.


I kid you not, after I've recovered from all of this I will be integrating some component of financial support for wellness into my art. I don't know how yet, but I can say that governments and companies don't have all of the answers, nor should we be held hostage to their indecision and compromises. We forge on with our own lives independent of what's around us. In my case, I will detox metals even though Allegheny County Health Department apparently can offer no help in isolating the source of this metal contamination and Highmark Health Insurance apparently can offer no coverage for my method of treatment.


So it goes.

Metal Pig

First of all, someone left me flowers at my show last night. So cool! Also, 3 women were there who I swear I've met, but I didn't realize it until they were leaving. If you're reading this, I'm so sorry I didn't say hello.

Now for the health part of this blog: I've got metal toxicity. Looks like this might be at the root of all my misery for the past 2 years. Based on my disastrous detox earlier this year which seemed to bloom an Epstein Barr viral outbreak, I'm beyond nervous about detoxing the heavy metals. What misfortunes will I have to walk through to get to the other side? I know that's a glass-half-empty mentality, but this is where I'm at today. My ears are ringing, I can't take loud noises. Even typing on this keyboard is smacking my right ear like a crashing cymbal.

But detoxing is definitely what comes next, 'cause I can't feel like crap forever. 


I'm making good on my Chinese astrological element: metal. Wish me good fortune, friends. Over and out.

The brilliance of smallness

For all my ranting about technology and what it does to human interaction, I gotta say I've discovered Netflix streaming movies on an ipod are about as close as it gets to reading a book. Since discovering this feature last Friday, I've watched 4, count 'em, 4 movies. It's a great way to keep me on the couch. The drawback is that it wrecks my vision. So, easy does it.


I've done absolutely zero songwriting in the last few weeks. Not even attempts. I had two performances which messed up my jaw pretty good. Something about the way I sit, sing and play really doesn't work from a physical standpoint. Gotta solve that one. Anyhow, here's the deal: there are some incredibly talented people out there that don't do music full time. Martha Jane is one of them.


In the DIY music community a conversation rages about the future of the industry. This has been going on for as long as I've been out there as a singer-songwriter. It's all about the role of technology and labels and stuff and everyone has an interesting and equally valid perspective.


The DIY culture really honors the entrepreneurial artist. It honors the extravert. I believe most artist are entrepreneurs, by the structure of how it works, but I also believe there are artists who have brilliance and are not entrepreneurs. They simply are good at the artist part. And that's where partnership comes it. These folks have a gift and if we're lucky enough to experience it that is in itself enough. There is greatness in smallness and not everyone who is a talented singer or songwriter needs to enter the music biz fray. There is no cultural or personal obligation. I didn't use to think that, but now I do.


The the industry is morphing and I have to agree with some folks who say we've traded quality for quantity. At some level, I think that's true, and I believe there is a deep and sacred part of our culture that's going underground because of this. That's where is makes a lot of sense to have artists partner with entrepreneurs. Like that song from the 80s, "You've got the braun, I've got the brain. Let's make lots of money." I don't mean a partnership quite like that, but some kind of pairing of gifts equals more than the sum of it's parts.


Pittsburgh, by my experience of 15 years, has almost zero support structure for DIY musicians. There's no industry here to speak of, and I think there could be. I think the culture-at-large would benefit from entrepreneurs cultivating true talent. The folks who are truly talented and charismatic are gonna be fine on their own, and I will enjoy them as much as anyone, and smile for their tremendous accomplishments. Perhaps this is the reality of the future of music and maybe I should just jump on that bandwagon without reservation.


But I have reservations, and I have to articulate them. There are gems who are quietly brilliant, who are music incarnate, and who make songwriting and singing look effortless. I'm an incredibly judgmental person when it comes to art, and these folks relax my mind and put me in my heart and I can experience music the way it's intended. In fact, I can experience humanity the way it's intended. You know these people when you see them and hear them. It's an undeniable thing, and it's not always in your face and obvious. This is the paradox, and this is our discovery to make.


Anyhow, I think lots of DIY artists end up saying you gotta embrace the new world or get out. Stop complaining because reality won't wait for you. Stuff like that. 


There's a missing piece in a statement like that, and I can't quite figure out what it is. I think it has something do with partnership and discovery and the brilliance of smallness, but I'm not sure. I do know I felt lucky to hear Martha Jane. I also know that I don't think she is required to do any more than what she's doing now. Somehow it's more our job to find the gems or something.


I guess this is an entry in my blog where I open it up to feedback. What do you think?

Thick headed me

Well, it looks like I've cycled back down to another episode of adrenal exhaustion. My kidneys are killing me, and I just feel like I'm coming down with something. I guess when the remedy is REST, it really means rest. Not quit one of your jobs and exchange it for fixing up the house. Bad idea, bad idea. 


I'm hosting friends today and then I swear I'm on the couch, with a pencil and sketch pad in hand whiling away the hours.  Since my exhaustion is moderate to severe I am told I can expect 2 years to recovery...and that is if I'm doing everything right. So far, I'm not doing everything right so I guess I'm back to square one, and I'll keep coming back to square one until I learn. I swear I'm learning, although I can't wait for 2012.

Devotions

I am officially ridiculously into alternative and integrated medicine. I want to convert the world.


I remember when I was in high school (a religious private school) there was a wave of evangelical fervor that swept through, and people were obsessed with speaking in tongues and casting out demons, vicariously causing me all kinds of distress and disgust. Anytime a class would get distracted by demon conversation I just felt an icky darkness descend upon the room, and I wondered why anyone would want to be brainwashed into channeling that crap. My Led Zeppelin albums were considered evil and, yes, I didn't do 'devotions' every day so I was probably not going to be Saved. At one point I was eating lunch in the cafeteria and I could see a group of students ascending the art building across the parking lot. They were climbing to the roof because they thought the rapture was happening over the lunch hour. I saw them later in study hall.


Summer break happened and then by fall all the kids who found Christ kind of calmed down. They were just my classmates and life went on. At that point I realized it's the initial falling in love part and wanting to share it with everyone that was uncomfortable. I was uncomfortable in the face of so much certainty and passion.


Now I realize the value of that. We need to be uncomfortable sometimes. We really do. We need to allow people to be head-over-heels in love with whatever they've just discovered. It doesn't last, after all. It gets tempered by time and by living. Resistance to early expressions of devotion just creates rock-hard human beings, clinging to their truths. This is dangerous business. We must bite our tongues and open our minds and allow people to discover truth on their own. We all have our own path, and our paths enrich one another.


So, I humbly present that I am now that annoying 'Christ' kid who wants the whole world to have pins stuck in their meridians and herbs jammed down their throat, and kale mixed in with their scrambled eggs. It actually messes with my ability to write song lyrics; I guess that's my karma. Certainly, I expect my daily devotion will be tempered and maybe then I'll have words to sing again. The irony, here, is not lost on me. In the meantime, though, I only have words to shout from a mountain top: don't ever settle for band-aids for symptoms when you can discover and treat the causes of your illness. Don't accept your diagnosis at face value. It probably fits a bigger picture. Make sure you're looking for the big picture, that combination of spirit and science. It's worth it! There is that quote, "You don't find by seeking, but only the seeker will find."

Future Imagination

Doggone it if I'm not feeling kinda good these days. So good I'm forgetting to breathe. (pause for a moment to inhale, exhale). Whew. Much better.


Now, I've booked a few shows out east for November and crossing my fingers I can travel. Also, I'l be doing some music at the Mother Earth News fair this September in central PA. If I may stray off of the art/music/health overlap and jump on my green soapbox, I gotta say, "C'mon USA. Get some freakin' collective imagination." When it comes to energy consumption and technology we are like doddy aunts and uncles, stuck in our 20th century ways with no concept of what this world could be like in 2210. I mean, really, how often do I (do you, dear reader?) think about planet earth in 2210? 


Yeah, that's something.


Here we are, these soulful incredible beings, sharing this planet with millions of creatures. We are temporary players in this magical thing called living. Yet every day we feed the machine. We're not machines! Our hearts are warmer, our minds are poetry. We can screw up, yes. The paradox drives me nuts most days. Our collective unconsciousness of our own imagination and our ability to change, our human genius, is fed daily to the machine. I don't mean literal machines, although that's often the case. I mean systems and methods. When everything you have gets taken away, you can realize what you have that cannot be taken away. The heart informs the mind and the mind makes the threshold. And behind the heart is the pulse of life. That pulse is infinite. We are temporary and we are infinite.


So how much of how we live today actually makes any real sense?  Because there are doors to walk through and there is no other side. With my illness, I've had an opportunity to see my existence stripped down, and with my continuing recovery (crossing fingers!) I'm able to put my awareness to practice.


And all I am trying to say is that I am happy to play music at things like the Mother Earth News fair. I'm happy to make changes in my life and embrace the grand adventure, road to the unknown. It's all ok, you know. Good and bad, it's all ok. So what if I forget to breathe? I also remember to breathe. 

The heat is getting to me today. But that's not really worth writing about. I have been thinking about performance vs. experience for a day now, another form of heat. For some it is probably not new information that I have a sticky relationship with live performance. Given a choice I'd rather be in the studio, engaged with the process of ideas and music. Live performance is that thing I do to earn some money, and hopefully find some supportive listeners. Not terribly inspiring, is it? it hasn't been for me, either.


Well, last Thursday's performance got me thinking some. It went really well because I was connected to something that was playing through me and it wasn't about me. As a basically shy person I was relieved that I could disappear into music. I have no idea if it was different to a listener, but it was different for me. 


At the end of the night I wasn't hungry and drained; I was energized and weirdly happy and social. I talked about this with someone and they pointed out to me that it's the difference between creating an experience and performance.


So now I'm reflecting on The Experience. This is why we go to music - we want an experience. Successful artists have a way of creating experience, of pointing a big arrow to the muse, of embodying things unseen. I have recently witnessed k.d. lang and The Swell Season create such  experiences. The musicianship was sublime and precise and tasteful, and the generous luminous quality of the lead performers created something close to church.


At the time I was thrilled to turn off my music critic mind and be swept away by sounds, trusting that all the sounds would be perfect. Sometimes I'd have a mental moment of student to teacher, "how do you do that????" I would ask in my head. 


Weeks and months later it occurs to me now that perhaps they weren't performing at all. Rather they were open empty vessels for The Experience. Heat and light. A possession.


I don't know how one does this, but that sounds like a lot of fun. If live performances can somehow become live experiences, I might sign up.


Before I sign out I should share that I think I found a new doctor! I'll be changing a bunch of stuff around and doing yet a few more tests. When pieces fall together it's another good day. Now someone get me a fan and a glass of ice water.

Little Lucky Miracles....

So much has happened in the past few days. I first thought my CT scan was super duper scary and then it turned out to be more or less minor, I've had drama with doctors, and got wiped out by last Saturday's gigs. I mean, wiped on the floor like wax paste. Then tonight I had a 2 and a half hour performance at a little cabaret bar in downtown Pittsburgh and, lo, it went fabulously. What!@?!? Could it be I might finally have internal energy reserves, after 9 months? 


Or maybe all I need to enjoy performance is lots of spaces in between. I improvised endings and fiddled around on the piano with beginnings and did things I've never done before. It's ridiculous to have my last show of summer be so good, and from out of the blue.


In all my apparently unlucky days I stand here in wonder at a lucky one. 


There is a poem by Saint John of the Cross, quoted in the book I'm currently reading "The Ecstatic Journey" by Sophy Burnam. I feel like quoting it, too:

Once in the dark of night

when love burned bright with yearning, I arose

(O windfall of delight!)

and how I left none knows --

dead to the world my house, in dull repose;

--------

There in the lucky dark,

in secret, with all sleepers heavy-eyed;

no sign for me to mark,

no other light, no guide

except for my heart -- the fire, the fire inside!

Crossing fingers....

Just wanted to post that I have two performances this Saturday -- one is live on-air at The Saturday Light Brigade, which may be streaming as well, and one is a short opening set for my friend Keith Hershberger. His songs are emotional and thoughtful and his solo performances are very rare as he's spending more time working as a ceramic artist these days.  Crossing fingers that I'll have enough energy for both events, and wanted to share them with you. After that I'm more or less out of commission until I can get wrapped around my chronic illness treatments. Please visit Keith's lovely website to see his graphic design work and pottery: www.keithhershberger.net


Two other plugs, for readers in the Pittsburgh area:


Emily Rodgers writes songs that are, to my ear, like melancholy lullabies. Her lyrics are exquisite and she is playing tonight at Howler's Coyote Cafe. And Saturday, July 24, look for Joy Ike, Brooke Annibale and The Beggar Folk at Istanbul in Lawrenceville. Joy and Brooke are two of the classiest young women singer-songwriters in Pittsburgh, and I've had the pleasure of sharing shows with both of them in the past year. Waves of good art hit the city sand, and Joy and Brooke are on the crest of a wave coming up after my generation of writers. As it is with enjoying my work with gifted healers, I also enjoy being in the presence of gifted songwriters who are also real singers.


Lastly, my energy is up today. Just waiting to get results from a CT scan of a neck lump. Yeah, scary is right. Again, crossing fingers.....

Suns that shine shadows

In this case, the absence of writing has meant shadows lifting and shifting possibilities. I have found some wonderful people in this process and to honor Independence Day I will name the people who are helping me:


Fawn Chang - Feng Shui consultant. She is a beautiful person and helped me do a space clearing of my home this past week. Weird and cool things happened with my cat Albert. She hooked me up with....


Nora Shofield - Spiritual Response Therapist. Esoteric, I know. I just saw her this morning and maybe I'll write more about this in the coming weeks.


Susan Merenstein - of Murray Avenue Apothecary. She has, I swear, a golden glow around her and makes you feel like your life is Sesame Street. 


Michele Bertini - quite possibly the loveliest therapist in this city. I've seen her off and on for a few years and my monthly visits have cleared my mind and opened my heart.


Sydnie Bryant - Acupuncturist and herbalist at Wholistic Acupunture.  Yet another Sesame Street person, but only if you cross that with a cool and serene Japanese Garden. 


Dr. Kropf - Neuro-energetic Chiropractor. I'll be darned but those little laser lights kinda make me feel better. And he "chuck norrises" my head as good as anyone.


In all, people who do what they are meant to do on the planet and do it with such professional skill and generosity make me happy to be a human being. My suns that shine shadows are being eclipsed by light.

Summer when the breeze is cool and the humidity is low is about perfect. Add my Pandora Debussy channel and a few cats sleeping on the couch and what more could a person ask for.


Contentment is hard to come by, so I savor moments like this. Today I learned two things to bring this rare state about. The first came from a feng shui practitioner that I hired to evaluate my home. I figured since my illness coincided with my nearly 8 years in this home that perhaps there are things I can do to remedy my health by way of caring for spaces. Thomas Moore has a great book called Care of the Soul, in which he speaks eloquently about spaces as manifestation of personal or societal disease. To care for spaces does as much to care for an individual or a community as actually treating the physical body.


I learned that my home has lots of issues in the health areas, but they are easily remedied. I will heal my home, as my energy allows. Perhaps I'll notice parallels in my body, we'll see.


As a total aside, Feng Shui also has fu dogs, these crosses between dragons and dogs, both male and female. You place them at your entrance to ward of malicious intent. They look fierce, like amped up super heroes or beasts from God's martial fantasy farm. I will get two fu dogs, mostly because I love to say fu dogs. fu dogs.


The second thing I learned today is that even though I think everything I love is being taken away from me by this illness -- my love of singing, of gardening, of walking places, or seeing friends, or simple pleasures like driving or buying food -- that actually it can't take everything I love away from me....because it can't take me away from me. Debussy and a perfect day make me sentimental, I guess. In any event, I'm still here inside and outside this body, stripped of purpose and pursuits perhaps, and a little worse for the wear, but here in essence.


How we live with ourselves is really what it's all about. I'm learning. Fu dogs!!!

Keith Jarrett is my new hero

I started telling people that I'm chronically ill. I emailed my music newsletter list last week with cancellation news of a show, and I was overwhelmed by the nice responses and resources that people sent to me. I think sometimes I forget that people like me. I don't know what that's about. 


One person sent me a link to the Fibromyalgia and Fatigue Center in Pittsburgh. I signed up for a complimentary visit, thinking maybe I've got Chronic Fatigue instead of just a chronic virus. I went today (ironically, the drive across town nearly flattened me) and it turns out I'm probably right. They know how to treat it, though, so I can recover as much of my energy as is possible. You know, the stuff that hasn't been damaged and destroyed for all time.


It'll cost thousands and I'm not sure how I'm going to afford it. But I'm going to do it anyway, and trust that the resources will be provided somehow. What other choice do I have?


After a long nap, I hopped on line this afternoon to see what resources are out there for musicians and health. Found out Cher has Chronic Fatigue due to Epstein Barr virus. I'm in Moonstruck company, baby! And Keith Jarrett has Chronic Fatigue. Ok, he's my new hero, because if you've never heard his double disc of Shostakovich preludes and fugues, you haven't really lived. They are sublime in every way.


I suspect I'll find a lot of new role models and heros on this new adventure. Now that is truly something to look forward to.

A few small victories

My acupuncturist changed the direction of one of my chakra wheels yesterday. I didn't know chakras had wheels -- I thought they just had colors. I must scour the interwebs for more information on that. Perhaps a future entry I'll tell you what I find.


In the meantime, and in an effort to introduce balance to this blog, I have a few small victories that warrant a short entry:


Small Victory #1: Last night I made it down to Istanbul to hear Eve Goodman & John Caldwell, with Tracy Drach. I didn't last the whole night, but the fact that I made it there and had a nice dinner and heard live music is something indeed.


RAH!


Small Victory #2: I just returned home from a 10 minute walk under blue skies. My lungs and limbs are heavy, but ten minutes anywhere would have been unthinkable on Friday. And no acute symptoms.


YAY!


Small Victory #3: This morning I re-listened to Rick DiClemete's reading of my astrological chart from earlier this Spring and pulled out a sketch pad and made drawings. Doodles really, but doodles with an art pencil on art paper.


YAWP!

A word of hope to all who need it: 

"Don't Let the Bastards Get You Down" - Margaret Atwood

Bag full of pills & and viral art direction

Much as I don't have the midas touch with music marketing and self-promotion, I do sort of love all the details. So, I was really looking forward to a design seminar I was registered to take today for my part-time day job (architecture firm). I thought it'd be useful for the music biz, too. After all, in the end, marketing is marketing is marketing.

Instead? I'm sucking down a bag full of pills for my chronic Epstein Barr virus and trying to make sure I can breath. I  am on 4 -- count 'em -- 4 antivirals. I probably take 20 pills with each meal. I only hope they kill all those little bastard viruses that are having way too much fun making my body totally anaerobic.

I'm looking for balance. I can't sing 'cause I get winded. That's not balance.

Back in the early 90s I dropped out of school for a semester due to mono and pneumonia. I was supposed to create and present my senior show, and I had grand ideas that involved large paper mache fruit and mennonite coverings. The mono totally changed my show. It was my new artistic director.

Instead of product I could only focused on process. And the process had to be gentle and small-scale. I moved home and bought myself a little watercolor block. Oils or other art were just too strenuous or chemical. So watercolors it was. I slouched on my folk's cream colored feather futon in the tv room and attempted to make 1 painting a day. Didn't matter what it was. And in the end I thought I'd have stacks of paintings to select from for the senior show, once I got well.

I didn't have stacks, but I had a lot of paintings, and I sold almost every single one of them. I was kind of proud of that. But I was most proud that I gave up the goal. I was delighted to find I became a better painter and more in tune with what watercolor does. It's talking all the time. You could look at the dates at the bottom of the painting and you could see me getting better. You could see me trusting the material more and more. You could see I became a better listener.

Having a hard time breathing is reminding me of this. I don't know how I continue as a singer-songwriter when I can't sing, and practice/songwriting is just too strenuous. Sitting at a computer fatigues me. 

I guess maybe my virus is my art director once again. I'll ask a friend to buy me a new little watercolor block. I'll set it beside my bag full of pills. I'll paint again.

Roller coaster ride

Today it's back to muscle fatigue, fever, headaches, and tight throat. You know there are two things I miss most from this:


1 - I can't travel. A simple 1-day road trip can devastate me. I love to travel, so the prospect of not doing anymore of this upsets me. Plus, there go all hopes of doing music tours.....


2 - I haven't had 2 days in a row of feeling good since last year. And I forget it every day that I feel ok. If I feel good I think "Hey, maybe I'm kicking this" only to find out the next day or maybe later that same day that it's a ferris wheel roller coaster ride and I can't get off. And every time I dip down I have a new fresh wave of despair. 


These are the things I miss. I miss the prospect of seeing the world with my own eyes. I miss the expectation of tomorrow and making plans. The Catholics were wrong: purgatory is actually hell. 


My mantra these days is "This too shall pass." 

Budding evangelist for acupuncture

Yesterday I could barely drag myself from one position to another. I couldn't speak because of the energy it took. I could barely cry, because it exhausted me. I was clearly losing the battle with my viral friends. 


Somehow I managed to drag myself to my car and drive a mile to my acupuncture appointment. One hour later I could walk, I could carry a conversation (brief), I didn't want to cry. I know if I would have stayed at home and rested on my couch all day that I'd feel like a brick, just as sick as ever.


So, even though I'll lose 2 great-paying gigs this week because I've got no stamina, I'm gonna sing small praises to acupuncture. I can make myself a meal at home and answer the phone. Life is good today.

Living means turning

I had intended for this blog to catalog my art-making, but I'm now discovering that if I blog at all it will probably be about my healing. Yesterday I was diagnosed with Epstein Barr virus, after 9 months of "Why don't I feel better?" It feels good to know something. Beyond that I have no idea. Life is turning me somewhere, and to live peacefully means following down this road. I cannot step off. What this means for songwriting and recording and performing, I don't know. My main hope now is finding the right healers, people who can walk with me and know my needs deeply.