September's nearly gone and I'm just now sitting down to type the news from CS Central. It's always my intention to write an upbeat, sunny message about upcoming shows and new projects and a bunch of nifty stuff coming down the pike that I'm excited about... but I'll tell you the truth. As much as I'd love to do that, I don't have much in the proverbial gas tank at the moment.
Sure, things are going well. I had a wonderful summer playing a few great festivals (this photo with ASL interpreter Jody Prysock is my favorite from Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, captured by Jake Jacobson), spending time with people I love, soaking up some sun and lots and lots of amazing, heart-stirring music. I have a bunch of shows I'm excited about in September and October -- benefits for causes I believe in, co-bills with my fabulous friend Karyn Oliver, in-the-round shows at the songwriter series I'm co-curating right here in Brooklyn, and my very first online show at StageIt.com. I'm writing and polishing new songs -- a whole bunch, in fact -- and making plans about how to put together a new album in 2020.
And still, there are days -- sometimes even weeks or months -- when no matter how together I look on the outside, inside, I'm in a million pieces I have no clue how to put back together. It's hard to get anything meaningful to happen on those days. Hell, it's hard to get anything at all to happen on those days. But I try. I get out of bed and I wave goodbye to my family as they go off to storm the castles of work and school. I practice yoga. I drink coffee. I write. I book shows. I promote shows. I do the chores and the shopping. I cook. And always, I kiss and hug and otherwise give plenty of attention to my beloved castle-stormers, trying to remain present to them.
And despite all that, today is one of those days. And so was yesterday. And maybe tomorrow, too. So instead of just pushing aside this feeling, today, I'm going to sit with it and be present to myself in all my unvarnished frailty. And although I should probably wait even longer to write to you all, it feels like a really authentic thing to do to let you in on how things are right now, at this moment.
Maybe it's because I want you to know that if any of this sounds familiar, you are not alone. I live a life I love, surrounded by people I love and who love me back in spades, and yet I struggle. Maybe you struggle, too. If so, I see you. Maybe we can sit and just BE together for awhile. Maybe we can be kind to ourselves while we're at it. Put on your own oxygen masks first, friends, so we can be more fully present to each other. Hope to see you soon...