northern neighbors

Lately I've had the urge to spend a little time away from California. Thankfully, we won't have to wait until June's trip to Vancouver to do that. On Good Friday we'll drive up Highway 5, cross the state line and park our car in Ashland, Oregon for the weekend. The hotel arrangements are taken care of, so this getaway we've been been talking about for months is now officially happening. Jon and I are so looking forward to a change of scenery and just slowing down for a couple of days.

running races, taking steps

It's never good when I neglect my writing, which is exactly when I've been doing over the past couple of weeks. Since I started this blog, I haven't written in my journal much, so this is my primary location for pulling my thoughts out of the messy purse of my mind, setting them out on the table and taking a good look. Today I actually have some external happenings to write about, which makes this entry feel a bit less daunting than usual.

Last Sunday Jon and I ran our first 10K together in downtown San Jose. When Jon first told me he was registering for it, I chirped, "Sign me up too!" I've never run a race before, so I thought it would be an interesting experience. Because Jon woke up that morning with a ground-shaking cough and piercing headache, he decided to slow his pace down to that of his short-legged wife. We crowded in near the start line with about 5,000 other Bay Area residents and learned the streets of the city from a new perspective. A couple of live bands stationed along the course boosted our energy with their bass-heavy songs. I didn't pay much attention to my speed, but I was actually somewhat impressed with how quickly I finished the race. Must have been all of the excitement.

Monday evening we decided to turn away from all of our reasonable but flimsy excuses, pack up the old acoustic in its case and let the folks at Red Rock Coffee hear our interpretations of a couple of Over the Rhine songs (Anything At All and Moth, in case any of your Rhineheads were curious). We ran through the songs just before leaving the house, and although they required more effort on my part than I wanted to give, I did not back out. We were first on the list -- apparently that's a spot few people want.

In The Artist's Way, I recently read a chapter about how our expectations of God and how he feels about us living out our dreams and destinies can actually limit our progress, at least for semi-blocked artists like me (though I'm on my way out of that blocked state). God does not think that my desire to be a professional musician is frivolous or lofty. But I think it's easy to get stuck in the belief that God is "all about business" and just wants me to do things that society views as responsible. But the truth is, when we take steps toward what we're meant to be doing, really good things start to happen. When we expect God to clear the way ahead of us, and we step out believing that, it usually pans out that way. Good things start happening. . . opportunities appear.

I have to believe that that's what was happening Monday night at the coffee house. I started to sing the first song (the easier of the two), and noticed how easy it was for me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw heads bobbing and people stopping conversations to listen. During the second song, I couldn't believe how effortless the singing felt. It was markedly different than when we had practiced not 30 minutes ago. Something in me had opened up, and it could not be because of anything I had done. When we finished and the applause ended, someone shouted that we needed to play some more songs. I think he was right.

thoughts from a dreamer

My dreams have always affected me more than most people. So much happens while I'm lying motionless in my bed each night. For this reason, most evenings I am held back by a slight sense of dread, knowing that the night that lies ahead could very well be more intense than the day I've just finished. Since childhood, I've had terrifyingly vivid dreams that I'm being chased and shot. Some of my more pleasant and profound dreams have prompted me to take action in some situations. I often wake up in the morning with a deep conviction that I've been spoken to through the images and happenings in my dreams. A few nights ago I had a thought-provoking and horrifying dream in which I eagerly reached out the window of a room in my childhood home to catch a beautiful bluebird, and then watched it turn black immediately and become beaten up and left for dead, all because I tried to grab it.

As I write these early in the morning, I am trying to discern why a good friend of mine showed up in my dream last night, with her head always turned away from me, and greenery growing on her head and arms. Just after I tried speaking with her, I was introduced to a revered artist, who upon meeting me, placed his hand on my back, looked into my eyes and said with excited assurance, "You've got a Warbler in there. I've got to hear it!" It could mean nothing at all, but because of past experience, I must look deeper and ask, "Is there something I'm supposed to learn from what I've seen?" I have a feeling that in the past, I've missed new insights into my life that were meant to reach me in this unconventional form. So I examine my dreams and allow them to speak to me. I welcome these experiences that feel so real, though they're only in my head.

so much more to life than words

What a sleepy morning. The house is as quiet as it's ever been. The light coming in through the windows is muted by the rain clouds that seem to have taken a liking to the space above us. This winter has been far more cold and rainy than it normally is, but I realized a few days ago, it hasn't bothered me at all. In years past, Februaries would find me complaining to my clients and grocery store checkers anytime there were clouds in the sky for two consecutive days. This is just one of several changes I've seen in myself lately, and is probably the one I understand the least.

I met with my new voice instructor for the second time yesterday and had such an encouraging lesson. I'm beginning to discover this new technique that smooths out the bridge between chest and head voice, and also adds a new richness to the entire range. I'm singing more throughout my days than I have in a long time. I fear that my cat is not nearly as enthralled about my renewed pursuit of performing music as I am. When I sing loudly, her ears point backwards, and when I dance, she puffs up and thinks I'm trying to hurt her. To her defense, my dancing is neither graceful nor well-coordinated. I like to call my newest move "a mole digging in a hole", which involves alternating upward elbow swings and a lot of jumping.

I wish I could think of more to write about. I'm taking requests . . .

change of scenery

the mountains around us are wearing a surprisingly wintery hat these days. would've been nice about three months ago. . .

what just happened?

Yesterday I went on a little road trip up to Pacifica, a small town on the coast, just south of San Francisco. I had to pull over on the way because this field at the foot of the hills was covered in these bright yellow wildflowers that were posing for a picture.

The main reason I had the urge to get out of the Valley & spend some time by the ocean was to try to get some clarity on some things I've noticed within the past several days. A few days ago, I woke up with markedly different perspectives on everything I came into contact with. It's almost as if I have a new set of eyes, or that I've been picked up and moved up and to the left a few yards, so now everything looks different to me. The familiarity and sense of belonging that I had, only partially formed as it was, is now nearly gone. I feel detached, like an outsider, but also somehow able to see things more clearly. I suspect that this might be connected to progress in becoming the artist I'm meant to be, which is definitely something I have a desire for. Good art in any form takes a common concept and puts light on it from a different angle than what is conventional. So maybe I haven't gone crazy, or if I have, it's exactly the kind of crazy I want to be.

While I was walking on the beach to find a good spot for my picnic lunch, I came upon this new stream in the sand. It hadn't reached the ocean yet, but this ambitious gathering of water pushed farther and father toward the waves as I watched it.

















I hiked on makeshift paths up on the hills at the beach where the powerful gusts of wind threw my hair into a frenzy and sent tears running sideways down my face. A comfortable setting was what I was after for my lunch and some reading, so I found my way back down to sea level where I was guarded from the cold breeze. After reading a bit and writing a lot in my journal, I felt peaceful enough to begin my drive home.















Jon and I had a great evening of discussing our vacation plans over dinner and playing some music together. We can hardly wait for June 14th, the day we leave for Vancouver, British Columbia. We're both amazed at what an ideal area it seems to be. Some of the things we plan on doing are . . .
kayaking in the ocean . . .

. . . hike in the beautiful mountains. .

. . . walk across this bridge . . .

. . . and just explore the city.


We're also going to spend a day or two in Seattle and Bellingham, Washington on our way back. One of the requirements in our hotel search is that they provide free wireless so I can blog while we're there!
Our evening was topped off by a late night drive, screaming along with an old Jane's Addiction song on our way to the grocery store. You haven't lived until you've heard Jon hit a high B flat.

from empty to full

Isn't is strange how a day can work you into a state of despair, cynicism and boredom, just to twirl you around and fill you with hope, gratitude and joy? Perhaps those kinds of days don't happen often, but that's exactly how I would describe mine today.

It was the 2nd of two days off from work, so one might expect that I would be savoring the freedom to sleep in and do whatever I felt like doing. I woke up while Jon was getting ready for work, and not having any plans for the day, I sat motionless in bed, staring at the mostly bare walls and the pile of clothes I'd allowed to form, and just thought, "This sucks." My thoughts are terribly eloquent in those early morning hours.

Over my Pleasant Morning Buzz coffee, I started to try to figure out how I could bring in an extra couple of thousand bucks so I could buy the piano I've recently been seduced by. I spent a good hour looking at free items on craigslist, thinking that I could find things that I could fix up and sell. The problem with most of the items listed though, is that they are huge. I have a Jetta. This is a problem. So I began to think about getting a second job. My honest self told me, "But I don't WANT another job. It's good to have plenty of time to do things that are important and good for my heart." It was then that I started to realize that I was again trying to take my financial problems into my own hands, thinking that I could solve them with my own efforts. My very patient God heard an anxious voice say, "I don't want to spend any more time on the internet trying to figure this out. I'm asking for your help, and for your favor in this pursuit of a piano."

Most of my afternoon was spent wandering around the house. . . doing a bit of laundry, singing & playing the guitar, reading, singing some more until my throat hurt (these new Speech Level Singing exercises are brutal!), staring out the window . . .
"I was not made for this! I can't take much more sitting around inside this house," I thought. What a shitty day.

Then the phone rang. It was my boss, Jen. She offered me a whole lot of extra hours for this month's schedule. Hmmm. . This means more money in the bank. A while later, I found myself brooding over a new thought: It is good that I am not satisfied with being a homebody. My heart is pulling me in the direction I need to go --- OUT! This is a good thing. Then I opened the front door and looked down onto the porch. There was a package lying there with my name on it. What the?? I opened it up and found a gorgeous ring from my dear friend Holli. I shouted and scared the cat.

I wish I would stop forgetting that someone is looking out for me and wants me to have a good life. He wants to be seen, but he also wants to be looked for. He wants me to release my fears, anxiety and even boredom to him. I am not alone or unloved. And he's doing something here. I want to believe that's true.





Thanks, Holli