Loving It in Lubbock

The road trip has begun. I left Houston on Thursday and trekked up highway 36 to Lubbock, where I met my brother Kuhrt and his wife Lindsey. Only an hour into my adventure, I took a detour to visit Blue Bell Creameries in Brenham, TX. Who could resist the lure of fresh-made ice cream (other than my brother, who mysteriously does not like ice cream all that much)? It's nearly a sin that I've lived in Houston for six years and never visited the creamery.

You'd think everyone on the tour was six year old, the way we were instantly fascinated by the fast-moving assembly lines. Ice cream sandwiches, rainbow bars, and carton after carton of oh-so-creamy ice cream, all put together and packaged before our eyes. The free scoop of ice cream at the end didn't hurt either. I'd say it was altogether worth the five dollar admission price.

Tummy happy, I was on my way. It's a beautiful drive—maybe not the most beautiful in the world, but amazing just the same. Blue skies and green expanses made me feel that I really had escaped the doldrums of my life in Houston. I'm really doing this. I popped in some Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and nourished my spirit in daydreams I can't remember.

During the last hour, lightning struck very near my car more than once. Stealth lightning that hit without thunder came before any raindrops. Luckily, I made it to my brother's house before the larger part of the storm hit.

It’s amazing what seeing a brother will do. The relationship between a brother and sister is a special thing—a jewel that varies from one brother/sister pair to another. My younger brother and I have always gotten along. Aside from occasionally terrorizing each other as children, we got along peacefully.

Because we never attended the same school at the same time, we didn't have to deal with much sibling rivalry. Sure, it probably annoyed him that my name preceded his in middle school and high school. But one conversation with Kuhrt removed any preconceptions anyone might have of him. Happily, we are very different people. Whereas I tend to be uptight, obsessive, and anxious, Kuhrt tends to be laid back, practical, and jovial. People like Kuhrt immediately, and he's one of my favorite people in the world to be around. He's absolutely a joy to talk to.  I've always been happy I have a brother—and that I have this particular brother.

Needless to say, I feel taken care of here in Lubbock. I leave for Santa Fe tomorrow, and I definitely want to hold onto the feelings of belonging I have here. My trip definitely has an introspective focus, but it's nice to temper that with connection and high-value relationships. I tend to undervalue my relationships, but more and more, I know that I cannot live without them. My touchstones on this trip will sustain me for the solitary, introspective days in between.

What's more, I played at D'Vine Wine last night. Despite another crazy storm, I had a wonderful time. People I haven't seen in ages came out to support me, and it was fun to play three hours worth of music and work on new material. Thank you so much, Vikee Clark, for the hook up!  I can't wait to come through and play again.

For now, I'm luxuriating in the fact that I am loved and that I love others. My darkest moments come when I feel most disconnected. People ground me in reality. I need my alone time to gather my inner strength and to listen to the wisdom that only comes from the soul.  And I need other people to expand my awareness and to give and receive love. Without both pieces of live, I cannot thrive. 

This trip already rocks!

The Beauty of Different

A year ago, I visited Bright Sky Press here in Houston and was immediately captivated by a particular book on display: The Beauty of Different by Karen Walrond. One glance at the cover, and I knew the book would be a wonderful experience. I didn't get a copy at the time, but a month or so ago, after loudly announcing how intrigued I had been by the cover and the title, I snagged a copy of my own. 

I wasn't disappointed. I love anything slightly off the beaten path and insist on finding the beauty in things most people sneer at. Someone has to buy the misshapen pears at the supermarket. Someone has to root for the villain, right?  Some might call me a contrarian, but after reading The Beauty of Different, I'd say I'm in good company. Walrond tells the stories of eight ordinary extraordinary people, weaving her own history into the mix with words and gorgeous photography.

I'm a sucker for beautiful books, so at one glance, I knew I would enjoy this one.  I felt like going out and conducting my own interviews after reading the stories of these people—their passions, their motivations, their heartbreaks, their unapologetic authenticity, and their creativity. Their stories don't make them seem like pristine, perfect people who I could never be like. They are unique human beings who put one foot in front of the other and make things happen outside the status quo. In short, they are the kind of people I want to be.

I'll freely admit that I liked the book largely because Walrond echoes my own world views on inclusiveness, spirituality, travel, authenticity, and life in general. It feels like a book I could have written, but my version would pale in comparison, devoid as it would be of Walrond's lovely photos. The imagery and her curious approach to lofty subject matter make every topic extremely accessible to any reader. I would recommend it to anyone, not just because her perspective resonates with me, but because her photography will captivate most everyone.

The book teems with insight and lovely phrases, but it certainly isn't the best writing I've ever read. Despite that, as a whole, physical book, it beats most bestsellers on the market today. This isn't a classic novel, after all.  It's a book from the heart, full of meaning and earnest sentiment.  Most of its effectiveness comes from the careful combination of words and photos. Even if you never actually read the book, you won't regret the moments you spend luxuriating in Walrond's stunning images and colors. The book is a complete, satisfying package.   

I feel like I found a friend in Karen Walrond, like I want to meet her friends and encourage her as she continues to pursue a creative life of writing and photography—a second life for her after a decade as an attorney. I sit here, a writer and musician who has only recently chosen to leap from full-time corporate to full-time creative, and from this place, I'd characterize my reaction to the book as jealousy.  Yes, definitely jealousy.  I wouldn't take anything Walrond has away from her, but I certainly would like a taste of it. Things to come… methinks. 

As all good books should, The Beauty of Different makes me want to live life a little differently, visit new places, meet new people, and create new art. It's inspiring.  If you need some color in your life right now, pick up a copy. You can find it at Bright Sky Press and at Amazon. And don't miss Walrond's treasure of a website, http://chookooloonks.com. How can you not fall in love with a name like that?

Use that Radio

I am not in this alone.  None of us are. 

In this new venture of self-employment, I sometimes feel like a sailboat out to sea.  I’m not a sailor, but I can imagine it would be pretty scary to ride the winds out into the middle of the ocean, until you can’t see any other ships, only to have the wind suddenly stop. Okay, the ride out there is great, but once you're there, what do you do?  Wait until the wind starts back up? What if it doesn't start blowing?  Do you get out oars and start paddling, even though you don't know exactly where the shore is?  What do you do?

Life feels lonely like that at times, mostly because I spent so long in a regular 9-5 world.  It’s fun, believe you me, to wake up each day and get to choose which projects to pursue, which avenue to search.  It’s like having that giant wind at my back, propelling me out into the ocean.  The possibilities are endless.  I am capable and confident that I will make this work, that new clients are coming, that I am going to make a new album, find a great place to live, and have all sorts of adventures along the way.

That wind keeps me moving, keeps me actively sailing. I stay preoccupied with the wind, managing the wind, enjoying the wind.  But then, periodically, the wind stops.  It’s a lot less fun out there on my own with no wind. When I get tired, or my mind starts playing discouraging loops, or I start believing old lies about how I never do anything well enough, I feel alone and momentumless.  It’s not that I lack hope; I just get tired. 

I have to rest sometimes; I know that. But I avoid rest because when I rest, fear bubbles to the surface.  I'm not alone in wanting to avoid this. Fear can paralyze, but it can also motivate. Today, I choose to use the energy of fear to fuel me moving forward. Fear can stop my motivational wind from blowing, leaving me feeling stranded. But if I can move past the fear, I think more clearly. I think of alternative solutions, or I might look and discover a backup motor on my boat to keep me going.

But what about when moving past the fear doesn’t work?  What about those times when I keep trying to work and only feel like I’m going in circles?  Although I don't always use it, I think I've figured out the secret: I reach out.

In my little, stalled boat, I use the radio.  Yes, the radio.  I ask other people what to do.  I ask for help.  That is the secret of success. Sailing solo is great, but I will never get anywhere without help. I have to ask other people how they run their businesses.  I need financial advice.  I need leads on new clients.

I saw a financial counselor last week, and our simple hour-long discussion gave me tools I certainly didn’t have before.  Some elements left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by all I have to do, but mostly, I felt empowered because at least I now know a few steps to takes.  I don’t have to do them tomorrow, but I can start thinking about it and planning for those steps so that I am ready to do them when they get here.

So many of us who strike out on our own have long histories of getting things done ourselves.  We have false notions that we should be able to do everything on our own, that it is a sign of weakness to ask for help. But frankly, how are we supposed to start up a wind on our own?  It’s impossible.  We need help to get to where we want to be. 

That’s what I’m doing, asking for help.  It’s essential.  You can do it, too.  No matter where you are in life, it’s always good to know how other people have tacked situations so that we can tackle them with as much information as possible.

After asking for help, my next step is trusting myself to act on that information in my own time.  I don’t have to implement everything today or follow the suggestions at all.  I can wait until the time is right and my heart knows exactly what is best for me.

Reach out today!  You won't regret it.

Projectile Sharing

Sometimes, when I don’t share something that’s been burning on my heart—when I suppress it and refuse to speak it to another person for a long period of time—that something eventually comes out on its own. It will be shared… and often with the wrong people.

A friend and I were discussing this a few weeks ago, and she suggested I blog about it. The night before our discussion, she had laid out her heart for a group of people (not just an individual person) she didn’t know very well.  Yes, a little alcohol was involved, but not much. Sometimes, it doesn’t take much. When we need to share, we share.

When we go through hard times, we are hard wired to connect with others and pour some of those feelings and experiences out. We can’t hold them all alone. Unfortunately, it seems that many of us are hardwired to suppress the impulse to share. Why?  Perhaps saving face or feeling competent and in control are more valuable to us than feeling better. We do many things that prevent us from healing because our self esteem matters more.

It’s our self esteem we’re talking about here—not a small thing. We want to protect our self esteem, and it drives us to hide things that have caused us shame. This sometimes means that we go for long periods without talking about the heaviest things on our minds. And when those thoughts and feelings get too heavy, they come bursting out, all over people who may not be safe to share with.

Of course, some people don’t have this issue. They understand relationships intuitively. Bravo for them—for you if you fall into that category! Maybe I’ll get there one day. For now, however, I have to work to reach out and open myself up to perceived disgrace or rejection. I forget that people will more than likely embrace me when I share something difficult. I forget that I often leave the situation with more self esteem, because the other person validates my feelings or accepts me, regardless of what I’ve done or experienced.

It’s best to share when you know you need to. Listen to your heart, and when it aches, don’t wait. Call someone. Even when you’re not sure if you’re ready to share, you can get on the phone and tell someone that you have something you want to talk about. You can leave it at that, or maybe you will realize that you are ready to open up. The important thing is to let someone know that a secret burns within you, that you a have a burden that needs lifting, or that you have something wonderful to say. Speaking this truth starts a positive, active flow. If you don’t share, you’re damming the flow and possibly causing feelings of stagnation or depression.

I understand the fear of becoming a person that shares profusely, all the time, with inappropriate people. I am not advocating projectile sharing. Listen to your heart, and it will tell you when you need to open up and will often guide you to safe people with which to share. I’m trying to save you from the uncontrollable sharing that happens when thoughts and feelings lie dormant for too long. Stay in touch with yourself.

Those are my two cents. Don’t let the need to share build up to the point where it could spew out on anyone. If you are so concerned about what other people will think, wouldn’t it be best to share it with the people who are least likely to look down on you for it? Now is the time.

Silence

I love silence.  I like my house to be totally quiet because noise and activity easily overwhelm me.  I’m in love with silence.  It holds within it something beautifully eerie, sacred, and open.  In silence, I can hear thoughts and let them go.  I feel connected to what I’m doing and connected to where I am.

To some people, this seems strange—for a musician to prefer the quiet.  I’m constantly humming tunes, making up songs, and generally thinking of music.  But with all that music in my head, why do I need it everywhere around me?

Now, I love a good concert.  I love entering into a zone that envelopes me in sound and lights and people and total and utter stimulation.  Euphoria.

I specifically go to concerts for that experience. In day-to-day life, I prefer silence.

Enjoying silence most of the time allows for a dramatic shift when I do turn music on.  The contrast between silence and music brings the house to life in a new way.  I start smiling.  I start moving.  I start feeling better. My mood shifts just a little.  Silence in the house is one kind of treat; sound is another.

I regularly go into the living room, sit at the piano or on the couch with the guitar, and play. I’ll sing most of the time, too, letting the vibrations engulf me. I might write songs, learn new ones, or ramble on in an improvisational stream of consciousness, searching for total immersion in the music or new songs I haven’t found yet.  Whatever the mode, I love floods of sound.  The more sound, the better.  I wish I were an entire orchestra sometimes.  And maybe, somehow, that’s what I truly am.

I am a symphony of sound.  Inside me lies every note that has ever been played in this world.  I feel it, and I think that other musicians feel it, too—like we’ve heard it all before, been it all before, and are trying to find it again. Perhaps that’s why I’m so easily overwhelmed by other stimuli. I’m already so full of the magic of music.

Music is my gift. Where it comes from, I don't know. I write this to answer those that would question my love of quiet and to encourage them to find the beauty in it, too.  Music fills me so completely that I have to blot out the outside noise now and then (or most of the time) to hear the sounds that want to manifest through me.

In the end, silence is the way I hear music, and music is the reason I love silence.