Myself When I Am Real

Making the old woman in me proud, strong, and free

I am sittin’ lookin’ out at Monday morning in North Philadelphia. The sun is shining today, and the city is loud with construction as it pushes towards a bigger tomorrow. They are repairing the roof of the church across the alley, tall men hanging from wires while they dance across the triangular shelf below the steeple that soars into the sky. I can hear the city bus “Caution. Bus. Is. Turning.” every 20 minutes or so, if the commuters are lucky. I woke up, meditated for the 105th day in a row, had my breakfast, and now I am writing to you. Hoping to carve out time for writing every day lately and trying to get back to when I would write just to write. I love to turn my life, my day, my desires, my fears into words. They leave me and go out into the wind so I can be lighter.

It isn’t the chaos of being in a touring band, running your own business, managing, booking, recording, etc. all on your own that leaves little time for art. It is actually trying to be a part of a scene, trying to get people who are on power trips to pay attention to your art (even though they don’t have any talent themselves), waiting waiting waiting for that one opportunity that will change it all and realizing that one opportunity is a mere stone to hang onto temporarily before you must press on alone; again.

All of that wastes so much precious time for an artist. Trying to please people who will forget you tomorrow is time you could have written your best song, played your favorite venue, or written something that was true.

It’s all about balance I have learned. You can’t totally ignore either. You must become a master at doing both without losing hope, or your mind.

Ever since we signed our first record deal, the volume of my voice got quieter while the voice of those who had power grew until I couldn’t hear myself anymore. Well, record deals come and go. The temporary flat ground beneath you just dissolves and soon you are back to your mountain climbing alone. At first it’s a shock to the system. But then as the days turn to weeks and months you find your footing and realize you have always been there. The art comes from you. And what a lovely gift to be left with after the dust settles.

Taking back full control of your art and artistic journey allows you to grow, to continue, and to survive. In the nearly two years (plus the 9 before the label came along) we have been a totally independent band, I have found my way back to writing just to write, digesting my days, heartbreaks, angers, and visions into poems again. As I sit here today listening to the city start its day, I am renewed and reconnected and I have let go of expectations. Simplifying everything has allowed us to see our path forward so clearly.

Big things are surely on the horizon, but at least this time I know to keep my voice turned all the way up. When you take power back from a system that no longer serves you, or never really did, you end up getting back a lot of that time for creativity. I want to tour, I want to record albums, I want to write songs and poems, and I want to fill my life with nature. I got very clear about those things the last year. I think about the older version of me, when she’s about 85, and what I can do now for her. How can I make her proud, make sure she feels as strong as possible, free as possible? And one of the things is to make as much art as I can. So her house is filled with albums, watercolor paintings, books of poems, journals filled with prose, photographs decorating the walls… whether anyone else cares about it all or not, she will. The legacy isn’t in the record deal, the booking agency that worked with you, the digital streaming numbers that stole from you, how many people came to your gig. The legacy, all that will remain, is the work you made. We know this to be true. And so I have spent a lot of time lately making plans to live my life making sure I end up that cool old gal in her double denim, living out west somewhere, house filled with her life’s work.

So it’s interesting to write you today from a city where the trash piles high, the wind blows construction dirt like the start of a new Dust Bowl, and the shear number of sirens daily would stagger any emergency service. We were never going to be city dwellers forever, it was a place to rest while we found this realignment. We had to slow it down so we could think straight. Find the passion to continue this career on our own terms and serve the songs. Serve the legacy.

What’s next? Well a lot. For now you know that we have an acoustic album coming out on May 30th - Like Never Before: Duo Acoustic Volume One -, we are finishing our next studio album, we are working on shows for the fall this year and all of next year… I am working on putting together a book of my poetry from the last 15 years that I would love to publish next year. We are trying to go as analog as possible - using our film and old school digital cameras again, listening to our massive vinyl collection, and reading book after book. I’ve been selling some of my vintage wardrobe and trying to slim down any excess. We like to travel light and keep our possessions minimal so we can ride down the road to what’s ahead. Today I am writing, songwriting, and I will leave the city to walk in the woods. The most important thing for me is like that saying from Margery Williams Bianco’s The Velveteen Rabbit, “‘It doesn't happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.’” My work is to become so deeply Real and I feel that now and crave it like water in the desert.

Two Poems from this week…

Air To Breathe

Looking at my life subjectively

I stand reflecting into its depths

I am carving the unnecessary bits off

Like an ice sculpture or a shrub

Whose shirts are these? No longer mine

And whom does this pan belong to? Not me

Who needs anything on a computer…? Do you?

Facing the details of space and looking for more

Where can I squeeze out a centimeter more of breathing room?

In the new liminal space I will put words

I will put music and feelings

Memories and visions from travel

Pouring into the free space without ever possibly filling it

And in doing so

The precious few things I do keep

No longer things but talismans of my life

Where I have been and who I am

They stand out on a clean shelf sayin’ ‘remember when?’

How far can you go looking for yourself

The more that is stripped away the clearer the image becomes

You’ve been there all along

Buried under the weight of stuff you never needed

April 28th, 2025

What’s Ahead of Me

I wanna live somewhere slow

Where the sun takes its time

And so do I

Where being late ain’t no thing

Where a deep breath means something

Days are spent not numbered

Weather a companion to whimsy

To step out onto the dirt

Nature vast and plentiful

I am a person in need of quiet

What do I have that can buy me some?

A place of my own free from shared walls

Sirens call traded for coyote yips at midnight

While the girl in me was out living

I grew up and out into a woman

And a woman needs time and space to roam

For as long as I’ve lived

I’ve been making plans and waiting on visions

To see me as an old gal where would she be?

And at last I’ve finally found her

Out west in the quiet flying free

April 25th, 2025