Appointments with Self

I've become proficient at filling my calendar. Filled with appointments for expansion, collaboration and development, my calendar reflects my drive to create. Now I need to add myself into the mix. Planning appointments with myself without guilt or explanation. Even if it's just to grab a coffee, getting out away from the computer and remembering that I matter. The emails will wait an hour or two. The ideas will still be there waiting to be formed and passed along. This quarantine has taken it's toll and I've finally hit a wall. I realize how little alone time I actually have. We are all exhausted from it all. But I can see a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel and I'm ready to be ready. Ready to step out into the world and remember who I am. And all of these relationships I've managed to build during this craziness will mean all the more when we see each other in person. It's coming, it's coming...

What Does it Take to Make it?

I don't know, I'm not there yet. But where is there? Maybe I've already arrived and I just haven't slowed down enough to take a look around. Maybe it's because there doesn't look like what I thought it would? What a year to take on a music organization. After being run for 30+ years by a life long friend, the challenge was already wrapped up in the package. Introducing myself to a community who adored my predecessor was probably the most terrifying thing I've ever done. My social anxiety hit some seriously high marks but I came out on the other side, prepared to move forward. Then, corona virus hits. Ok, now redesign everything. But we've made it to the WCS 40th Annual Conference being put on virtually. So many incredible people involved. I'm sure my family feels I've dropped off the edge of the earth and truth be told I feel like I have. I'm fully focused on my spread sheets, making sure nothing and no one is missed. Answering emails, processing financials, fielding phone calls and reaching out to collaborate with some super creative and inspiring artists. I feel lucky. So, I guess in that last little bit I see where my there is and it looks exactly like I thought it would. So, what does it take to make it? Slow down and look around, you may already be there. 

REGISTER HERE:  https://www.westcoastsongwriters.org/2020-conference

Big Basin

 

Sometimes you have to break in order to grow. I must admit, I'm feeling a bit broken these days. The fire in Big Basin and the suffering of all those affected by these fires finally brought me to my knees. As I type this, I can't keep the tears from flowing. I grew up in Boulder Creek, surrounded by those majestic redwoods with all the magic they brought. Ferns, creeks, animals, berries and trails I ran along with my friends. I had a lot of freedom as a child. We explored those woods playing out whole stories, swimming in the rivers and actually trying to get lost. Laying in beds of clover just staring up through the branches. I can smell the forest floor and hear the blue jays. This feels like a death. Someone mentioned the resiliency of the redwoods, and I will hold onto that. In the heart of the Santa Cruz Mountains, they stand resilient, my memories are strong and I'll borrow their strength. I love you Big Basin.

Love and Space

 

It's the first day alone here at the house. Michael and the kids have all made their way back to Ohio to spend time with Michael's family. And, although I miss him terribly, I know how much this time means to him. Between our brief exchanges, there is so much time to love that empty space. He shares a picture here and there, memories from his childhood or even before. Just being a soft place to fall and listen. This is not my story and I feel very lucky to be in this man's life. To just support where it's needed and step back when it is not. Molly made him a reflective playlist before he left and I can hear the songs in my mind, knowing how overwhelmed he is. These life moments are precious and painful. I'm holding his hand across the country and loving him through this empty space. 

Just Me and the Cat

I asked Molly to get up early with me but my version of early and hers are two very different ideas. Michael's out of town for work so I'm the coffee maker. French press with cinnamon, delicious fall flavor in the midst of summer. It's always when things get hot and begin to dry out, when gardens are starting to burst, that I begin to imagine fall. The doors are open to let in the cool morning air. I think I can hear my little fountain over the fan humming through the floor below Oliver's bedroom. These days can feel monotonous with no way to break them up with a nice lunch out or a trip to the store. These things are not available to us any longer. Or, at least, not without a mask. So I've been creating my own oasis here at home. New outdoor furniture coming so we can enjoy "dining out" quite literally. Along with the furniture, we've installed a large blue umbrella, misters, pots of beautiful flowers and the aforementioned fountain. But it's much harder on my new adults. Aside from the ridiculously sad ending to Molly's senior year, how can either of them move forward to create lives for themselves? Stuck here staring at mom and dad is not the deal. Molly tells me to stop baking. My go to comfort is to fill the house with yummy smells. The kind where you taste the butter before you've even removed it from the oven. Two polar thoughts going on in this house, our dining room is now a gym and yet I'm baking as if the holidays were upon us. It's hard to imagine the holidays this year. No family visits, no dining room table (I actually cried when Michael packed it up and took it to the storage unit), no place to put a tree...so I guess I bake to make everything feel grounded? Well, whatever the case, Molly tells me to stop. Oh, wait, I can hear the fountain!

Another Summer, Long Ago