8 days of beautiful

I have had 8 straight days of feeling fine. It's been almost 2 years since that has happened and so I'm feeling like the luckiest woman in the world right about now.


One reason might be I'm so obsessed with songwriting that there's no time to obsess over symptoms. I'm doing this thing called February Album Writing Month (FAWM.org) where I am attempted to write 14 songs in 28 days. I've completed 3 songs so far: a pop-rock tune, a pretty folk-country number, and a spacey velvety esoteric song about The Wheel. You can hear demos of songs and read lyrics at my FAWM page.


I forgot how much I love writing songs, but even more than that I love being caught up in something. My brain is at a smorgasbord of sounds, images, words, ideas. Challenging myself to push past my self-perception as a "slow songwriter" has been the perfect way to brighten up perhaps the most depressing month of the year (in Pittsburgh anyway). Not every song needs to be a hit which is a relief, if not a revelation. AND, I can now see how the hit songwriting factories of yesterday happened -- you just get on a roll and then it rolls you along. Finally, being able to write alone but having a community of people doing the same thing is a perfect set-up. 


If you're creative at all -- and I believe everyone is creative at something -- then it's worth it to get the environment right. We have to get the details right so that we can fall into who we are. If you know that you can't paint unless the dishes are done or off the counter, buy a dishwasher. If you can't invent without good light, find the right room. Stuff like that.


8 days of awesome is making me a cheerleader. I have a short while before getting my next test to see how I'm moving out the heavy metals. I have to remember that even though I'd rather write a song, I must resolve to stay a little aware of the details of purification, too. I've been relaxing a bit, but it's worth the extra push for 3 more weeks. Anything to stretch these 8 beautiful days into 8 years and beyond!

holding on

Clearly I've been holding on to something. For weeks I've had that tight feeling all over and I can't relax no matter how many mind games I play, no matter how much deep breathing or how long I sit on the couch "doing nothing." I'm just all wound up and I don't know why. I wonder what it is that I can't let go?


Today I met a man who kind of blew my mind. With simply a look he was able to unwind me. At first I felt a myself relax, then a sensation at the back of my head, and now I'm home making dinner and I still feel unwound. How extraordinary.


It's causing me to rethink everything I've been doing in the past 2 years to approach my chronic junk. What if it's as simple as a look? 


In the same way as learning that the healing process might be simple, I'm discovering all this on-line business might be simple too. Applications have developed over the past 5 years to assist artist in ways that just didn't exist a few years ago. I've wanted to explore this but it always overwhelmed me -- too many options, too much time, too much maintenance. I've been doing it these past few weeks and it's SO EASY. I just began to set up my bandcamp page, and I just developed a new music newsletter for my fans. It actually looks like what I want to present to the world. 


Poof. More chronic junk gone. Why hold on? 

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.