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.