And here ya go

It's December 31, 2012. So the Julian calendar, a totally arbitrary way of measuring the passage of time and organizing days into neatly manageable chunks (and oh, those Romans were fond of neatly organized chunks of nearly anything), is rolling over again, meaning we all have to go out and buy new calendars...

Maybe I'm just getting crusty and old, but for the love of Mike, Pete, Jove, Larry, Mo and Curly, can we please stop obsessing over keeping track of the flow of days? The Earth spins, so we have nights and we have days. The Earth is tilted on it's axis, so we have seasons. The Earth is circling the Sun, so we have years. And we mark the days in little boxes because we think what we do with time is going to matter. A thousand years from now, the great majority of us will not even be footnotes. The human race shot itself in the foot a long time ago, and now we're living on borrowed time.

Time is precious. Time is fleeting. Time is relative. Time is too big to contain in any ledger or chart. Time is too sacred a thing. We expect it to conform because we say so. But Time is bigger, and older, and smarter than we are. It flows on whether we want it to or not. We are linear. Time is... Not... Pure Time cannot be contained, measured, or even described. It sure as hell doesn't obey any rules. Time is as big as the Universe. Don't fuck with Time. Show it some respect.

So as you mark the throwing out of one Julian calendar and replace it with another, perhaps one with pictures of cute kittens or lush countryside, take a moment and try to suspend yourself in non-linear Time. Ignore your breathing and your heartbeat. Be timeless, in order to better appreciate Time.

May your next journey around the Sun be a pleasant one.

A beautiful, wild ruckus

December 2, Aunt G and the Stone City Nephews took to the studio to record the songs we've been learning and rehearsing. It was a monumental experience, honestly...

For starters, it was well north of 60 degrees, beautiful clear autumnal blue sky, gentle breeze... And we were recording in Pete Becker's converted corn crib out in the Iowa hinterlands south of Iowa City. I got there a little early and spent some time walking around the yard with my fiddle playing for what few birds were around. John Waite got there next, and we stood outside the studio and played fiddle tunes for 30 minutes until the rest of the crew got there. It was the perfect way to warm up and get in the mood for what was to come.

Once inside, Pete began the challenging work of setting up mics to record this motley crew. He and I conferred a few times, decisions were made, and things began to take shape. Once Pete was ready, the boys set up and began to play. I sat in an alcove slightly above and beside them, sort of "conducting" and keeping track of where we were in all the songs. One by one they dropped into the pocket, like wild, shining treasure. In a few hours, we were seven songs richer, and exhausted but too elated to stop. We decided to track the lead vocals.

I stayed in the same spot, and the Nephews sat on the ledge or on chairs below me. And I sang these songs like I had never sung them before. Their playing gave me so much energy and inspiration. We all had goosebumps at least once or twice. It was magical. Perfect. And it all happened out in a corn crib in the middle of Iowa...

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/187535541/aunt-g-and-the-stone-city-nephews-cd-and-band-laun

The Aunt G and the Stone City Nephews kickstarter campaign is launched!!!

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/187535541/aunt-g-and-the-stone-city-nephews-cd-and-band-laun?ref=email

Dear Family, Friends and Fans - 

I am very excited to announce the launch of the kickstarter campaign for the new Aunt G and the Stone City Nephews CD! 

It has been quite an eventful year for me, with some tearful goodbyes, job loss, and several injuries. But the good has far, far outweighed the bad, and one of the best things that has happened has been meeting up with, and becoming part of, the fabulous Kodiak Flats family. John Waite, Jake Niederhauser and Jim Leland have filled my life with music and mischief, and now have consented to be my honorary nephews. This CD will be the culmination of a couple years of hard work and great joy. 

We hope that you will want to join us in this project with a pledge of support. Please visit the Kickstarter site to learn more about what we're doing, and how you can help. 

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/187535541/aunt-g-and-the-stone-city-nephews-cd-and-band-laun?ref=email

Best wishes!

Gayla (aka Aunt G) 

PS to family and friends - Yes, I know my birthday is coming in a few days, as well as Yule, and for those of you who usually include me on your gift lists, ALL I want this year is your support for this project. I do NOT need more stuff! But your support of my creativity and livelihood with a pledge to this campaign would mean the world to me. Love, g

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/187535541/aunt-g-and-the-stone-city-nephews-cd-and-band-laun?ref=email

In praise of practicality

I am a practical person. This is news to me, so I'm kind of excited about it. I am level-headed, I see the big picture, I can look at things dispassionately and see where my best interest is, even if it is far far away from the shiny things. This is one of those awesome but utterly dull qualities that gives me an edge. I know what fucking matters and what does not. I know how to wait. I know how to bargain. I know how to negotiate. I know how to use language to my advantage. Oh, I do. Don't fuck with me. I am a wordsmith. I can hurt you.

But I digress - and I KNOW I digress, because I am practical. Practicality means being painfully honest. Practicality means "you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you might find you get what you need."

Guess what. I'm buying a new violin. Because I'm practical. There is a huge difference between the $1800 violins and the $5000 violins, and I have progressed beyond what the $1800 violin is capable of. Since the violin is responsible for about 85% of my income at this point, I must upgrade to a violin that will deliver the performance that I am capable of. Because I am clever, I asked the Universe to make it possible. The Universe said, "Of course! Yes! It is now possible!" Not free, not painless, but possible. Thank you Universe! I can make possible work. Because I am PRACTICAL.

Somewhere in The OtherWorld, my mom and dad are having a great laugh, because their ridiculously bohemian youngest daughter is one of the most practical people on the planet. Hi, Mom and Dad! See you in a few decades. Don't wait up. I'm having a really good life. Because I'm PRACTICAL!!!

One last night

Tonight is the last night in my little apartment... My refuge and haven for this year of healing and recharging. It's been a wonderful place, peaceful, quiet and safe, in the best possible location for this stinking town... And I will miss it.

But... I am so excited about moving to the Iowa City area, moving to The City of Awesome, being close to so many more progressive, creative ideas and opportunities. And moving in with Michael, who loves being part of my crazy musical life (and vice versa), has so far been the easiest, smoothest, and funnest move of my entire life. The closer we get to the move-in date the happier we are together. And isn't that exactly how it's supposed to work?

So today I am grateful for this little space that has nourished and protected me for the past year-and-a-bit, this space where I have discovered just how capable and resourceful and smart I actually am. I have made my own decisions, and remarkably few mistakes. Through the end of my marriage, my mother's passing, a broken ankle, the loss of my job, my step-dad's passing, yadda yadda yadda, this little place has sustained me, and allowed me to grow into quite comfortable confidence. I've been blessed more than I can explain.

Thanks to all the helpful spirits that have been with me this year, helped me get there, helped me get through - thanks to my sister Annie, to my faux-daughter Rachel, to Michael, to DJ and Tommy and Kodiak Flats and Bart and Java Creek and The General Store and all the music fans who have supported us... And to Gary and Robin, for being fantastic, responsive and understanding landlords.

When beauty happens...

I rehearsed last night with The Stone City Nephews (John Waite, Jake Niederhauser and Jim Leland). We have had a few ups and downs, some cancellations, some illness, other conflicts... But we're really gelling as a unit now, and the music is becoming beyond beautiful. I could not have imagined anything more perfect than this mix for these songs.

When this kind of beauty happens, the heart gets happier by the note. There were wonderfully pure moments where everything was just right, and even a few wonderfully horrid moments where we all managed to laugh at ourselves. But this music is now becoming what I meant it to be, and it's like watching your child grow up and get a Nobel Prize for Saving The Planet and Being Nice to Puppies. I'm even playing better, finding more right notes than wrong notes and playing some really pretty licks once in a while.

And so, life is good.

Something less snarky

Well, yes, I've been a little angry the past few days. There are a lot of reasons to be quite justifiably angry. There are also a lot of reasons to be grateful and hopeful.

I am grateful that I have the mind and the freewill to resist believing everything I am expected to believe.

I am grateful that I have the skills and the talent to make a living without having to have a job.

I am grateful that America rejected theocracy and fanaticism and turned slightly back toward a progressive, loving future.

I am grateful that intolerance is less tolerable to more people.

I am grateful that PBS will stay on the air, and that funding for education, arts and culture will remain in place. I would be even more grateful if it would increase, but... For now, it'll do.

I am grateful that I have so much love in my life.

I am grateful that my significant-other hates television as much as I do.

I am grateful that I have found my heart's true home, in more ways than one.

I voted

Though I'm no longer sure why. Every year it seems like I am less and less excited about it, less and less convinced that ANY of it matters, less and less proud of the candidates I eventually hold my nose and tick the boxes for...

The corporations that own our government are going to get what they want. We The People of the United States of America were sold down the river decades ago. The only way to get our country back from the corporations is to kill the corporations. STOP SHOPPING. Buy ONLY what you need. Don't buy shit from China. Don't buy shit that's going to break in 6 months. Kill your credit cards. Fuck HSBC. Fuck USBank. Fuck Wells Fargo. Fuck Goldman Sachs. Fuck Edward Jones.

Yes, I am ANGRY, and I ache for my country. I ache for the planet. We're such fucking idiots. We're all fucking idiots. And we just keep getting dumber. We have allowed this to happen because we're not paying fucking attention. We're too distracted by consuming - consuming cheap shitty merchandise that is made to break; consuming cheap shitty television programs that rot our brains; consuming cheap shitty processed food, made with genetically modified raw ingredients grown on factory farms in soil that has been depleted of most of its vitality, and then stripped of what little nutritional value it still has. So we will get fat and sluggish and sit on our couches surfing fecesbook and watching shit on television and eating more shit because we still feel hungry. Oh hey, let's cut funding for arts and education a little more, so we can give tax breaks to wealthy assholes who don't need them. The rich gotta keep getting richer. This is America. Fuck yeah.

But hey, go hold your nose and vote. It's a good habit to be in, and maybe someday it'll matter again.

The Whistling Shit-Can of Death

We loaded our instruments and selves into Slim's blue van (aka The Whistling Shit-Can of Death), and he cranked the engine over - BANG! Hilarity. We were piled in, sitting, squatting, holding on for dear life, headed to KRNL to do two songs on live radio to promote a gig. We pulled onto the campus of Cornell College in sleepy Mt. Vernon, IA, and the van growled dangerously and backfired once more as Slim parked.

We gratefully swarmed out, John, Jake, Slim and me, and Pete, our recording engineer, and Michael, my muse and truest companion. We had their attention, those wide-eyed young college students, so full of promise. We swept through them and made our way to the KRNL studios, both amused and gratified by their attention. Jake led the way, with his rock-star swagger and movie-star looks, followed by Slim, who was literally and figuratively far larger than life in his black leather jacket and jeans tucked into boots, his wildly curly hair flying, his jovial laugh booming, dog-house bass carried high over his shoulder. John, Pete, Michael and I followed in their wake; John's shy sweetness radiating like a space heater because he just can't help it, Pete's New York City cool and puppy-friendly charisma lighting up the room, Michael being the calm, clear eye of the storm, my long coat swirling like Gandalf's cloak behind me...

We crammed into the control room like sardines, Slim in the corner with the bass, Jake and John along the wall next to him, me in the other corner, trying desperately not to hit the wall with my bow... The DJ crawled under the desk because there was no place else for him to be. Student noses pressed against the glass window of the control booth door as we launched into one of Jake's songs, "Dirty South." Nobody held back. Jake's voice boomed like a canon over the top of two dreadnaught guitars, a bass and a fiddle. John's blistering hot bluegrass shredding sparkled and dazzled, my fiddle wailed, giggled and soared...

We're Kodiak Flats and we came to play, so open up your ears and hang the fuck on...

To doc or not to doc

Sore throat, but not red and angry looking  Combination of allergies and dry air? Probably. So... Keep on keepin' on and hope it goes away? Sigh.

On the upside, I had two great lessons last night. First student practically came skipping in proclaiming, "I practiced!" Second student couldn't wait to tackle the next piece in the book, so we jumped in with both feet. Good stuff. Makes a teacher feel good. Just when I start to wonder if I'm a good teacher, somebody reminds me that I am.

A change is a-gonna come...

Everything that I regularly use is now with me in Coralville. My apartment is looking scary. There's a bed, empty closets, empty dressers, a barren kitchen, and a futon sitting there, waiting, kept company by pictures and paintings hanging on the walls, apparently for no reason. The pictures look out of place now. It's almost eerie. Three more weeks and everything will be here. And I can't wait. I'm getting very anxious to have my whole life in one place after having been divided for so long. 

We spent most of the weekend working on it, moving stuff, taking stuff to the dump, and cleaning cleaning cleaning... Vacuuming with the HEPA vac, trying to get the dust bunny revolution under control. It seems like there's just so much dust in here lately, I don't understand why. I guess we've stirred a lot of it up with our relentless shifting and moving and rearranging and getting rid of some stuff to make room for other stuff. We have really pissed off the dust bunnies good, I fear. Maybe that's why my nose won't stop running... 

What a band

Had a really good rehearsal last night with the Nephews. Things are really gelling, the music is starting to cook exactly the way I wanted it to. Just like the voices in my head were playin' it. This is turning out to be some tasty shit, and I am grateful, grateful, grateful. We're still working through some rough spots, but boy it's coming along. You know it's good when there's a moment of silence after you're done with a song, and then somebody says, "Uh, we just did that."

Special kudos to Jake Niederhauser stepping up to the plate and OWNING the rhythm section, holy shit. I'm so used to being the whole band that it was a HUGE personal... Thing for me to hand over the keys to the rhythm section, but damn, he showed us last night that it is in GOOD hands. I have this feeling that we are all learning so much from this process...

I'm learning that I need to practice more, so I'm gonna get the fuck off the internet and pick up the fiddle and keep working my ass off.

Two Full Weeks

Okay, just let me wax evangelical ONCE MORE and then I will stop. I love the CPAP, and I always will. I don't care about the little discomforts. I will do whatever it takes to feel like this.

Now, back to MUSIC, which was the initial purpose for this blog way back in the day... I have been learning my own music on fiddle, and it's trickier than I thought. Approaching it as another side-man has made me very aware that I don't write normal stuff. Oh well, I don't write normal stuff. That's good, right? I'm an original, unique, different. Yes, Me, that's a good thing. I have spent a few days playing through the songs and just getting the shape of things, and starting tomorrow I dig in, drill down, take one song a day and  work it with all I've got. Get it really, really right. It's got to be really, really right...

Allergies

I have to confess, nasal allergies and the nasal pillow mask don't go together so good. However, the only time I can really breathe is at night when I'm breathing HEPA filtered, humidified air... But boy is my nose sore. This too shall pass. It's supposed to freeze tonight. Please.

Allergies suck.

Otherwise, I'm still feeling great, the deep, profound, excruciating fatigue seems to be a thing of the past. I can't find words to express how grateful I am for that.

The Read Out

I took my CPAP chip in to be read by the techs today, and WOW!!! They were blown away at how well it is going! My "events" are under 1.7 an hour per night. Yes! The machine knows all, and I have had several nights of blissful, beautiful sleep in a row, for the first time in possibly decades.

Now, if we'd just get a nice killing frost to take care of the stupid mold allergies, I'd be in hypoallergenic cotton...

Day... Um... Seven? Has it been seven now?

Yes, I got the CPAP on Monday of last week, so it has in fact been a full seven days.

So here is me, seven days after getting the CPAP. Up at 6:45, dishes put away, teeth brushed, breakfast and coffee, change the water in the betta fish tank, wash breakfast dishes and coffeemaker, clean CPAP mask, remember to send lunch with the man as he goes off to toil in the salt mines... Check email, 20 minute walk, 30 minutes Yoga, 60 minutes fiddle practice, go to the Coop to get apples and baking soda, visit with an old friend, get home, make cornbread to go with supper tonight, have lunch, get a shower, blog, and get ready for the second practice-my-ass-off-because-my-own-music-is-kicking-it session of the day... And it's only just gone 3PM. After my lessons tonight, we are going to do a massive clear-out of a room downstairs and move the outdoor plants in front of the south-facing window for the winter. And take another walk. And read the final few pages of "Someplace to be Flying..."

It's 3:14PM and I'm wide awake, energized and ready to spend another hour on music. Two weeks ago, this would have been Fantasy Land.

Once again, I will remind you, Gentle Reader, that the only thing that has changed is that I am breathing normally and getting REM sleep at night. No drugs, no tricks. Just oxygen and good sleep.

It's Monday, I had three gigs this weekend and I'm functional...

Okay, the true test! I had three gigs, two of them three hours, one of them a shortie but quite intense, and I am not only functional, I got up at 6:40 and started getting stuff done. I slept just over 8 hours last night, had one dream I remember and one I don't, and never got up one time for anything.

My life is already transformed, and it's been one week. Oh how I wish I had done this years ago!

Alright, got stuff to do!

Day 5

Slept like a baby, although... I have to confess I have a tendency to overdo... I start feeling better and somehow become convinced that I'm again immortal and incapable of being wounded. I should know better than that... So I was sore last night, and my ankle was swollen, though not on the outside, but on the inside. I think I may have irritated some compensating tendons. Somehow. Ya know.

I have two gigs today and one tomorrow. Ordinarily, this would put me in a coma. Monday will be a big milestone for me.

I had two very clear dreams and remember much of both. One of them I dreamed in the wee hours, which is very unusual for me. One between 6AM and 7:15, which is more normal, though infrequent. I must be getting a LOT more REM sleep.

Life on a CPAP, Day 4

I went to a concert last night with my son, was out until almost 1AM, and didn't end up feeling sick from exhaustion. That's a HUGE deal to me. I was tired, sure, but not so tired that I felt impaired in any way, and I am quite functional today. I even read a couple chapters of my book when I got home to settle down.

Concert, by the way, was FABULOUS. The Dirty Three and Dark Dark Dark. Dark Dark Dark are very very good, interesting and poetic stuff. Piano, accordion, electric banjo, bass and drums... Gotta love that. For me it was sort of a break - I usually am trying to watch the players and cop some licks from them, but I don't play ANY of those things, so I just sat back and enjoyed. And enjoyable they were. Look them up at brightbrightbright.com. The Dirty Three... Wow, what is there to say about them? They are wild, primal, brilliant, stupidly intelligent, drunken virtuosos from Australia who play wild, primal, brilliant, stupidly intelligent, drunken masterpieces that are either minutely rehearsed or pulled out of their asses on the fly, I couldn't decide which. Warren Ellis (the fiddler, not the screenwriter, although he's awesome, too) is my new hero.

This morning, I slept in until about 9:30, got up feeling great, puttered around, played some fiddle, taught a lesson, and now I'm doing some laundry. Hey, it's that sort of lazy, quiet day for me. Friday is my Saturday. Saturdays I generally am out working my ass off. Nothing new to report about the CPAP experience today, except that I am not suffering any ill effects from being out until 1 last night. That's new. Boy is that new.

Day 3

I cannot remain quiet about this. I have to tell the world. This may be the most significantly transformative thing I have ever done.

I woke up at 6:30 this morning, got out of bed, stood upright and WALKED to the bathroom. Now, this is significant because A) I stood straight up instead of being hunched over in pain, B) I WALKED, not stumbled nor shuffled; and C) I had not struggled out of bed 3 or 4 times during the night to pee like a racehorse for the first time in... Well, possibly a decade or more. I slept the untroubled sleep of a mature, healthy woman. I awoke feeling refreshed, alert, and in no pain. And I woke up next to the man I love, and after a quick detour to pee, I felt alive, alert, and GOOD enough to make love with the man I love. At 6:30AM. I shit you not.

It took me a while longer to realize the full extent of my well-being (I was, after all, a wee bit distracted). I was standing in the kitchen doing my dishes when I realized there was no tension in my chest, no tightness, no feeling of trauma. I could take a full breath without pain. I could extend my arms, arch my spine, tilt my head up to the sky. I began to take an inventory of all the other pains and issues that had been plaguing me - the chronic inflammation in my hips, the constant full-body ache, the feeling that every single tendon was pissed off. Gone. I looked down at my right ankle. The one I broke in March that was still swollen - oops, swelling gone. I had a full range of motion with it - for the first time since before I broke it.

It's been THREE NIGHTS. THREE NIGHTS of uninterrupted, healing, restful, restorative sleep, and my body is beginning to literally transform. All the suffering, all the pain, all the exhaustion, all the little nagging discomforts, as well as the big chronic ones, are melting away. I am not taking medication, I am simply BREATHING and getting REM sleep. This is IMPORTANT.

I cannot believe that a mere week ago, I would wake up at 11:30 or midnight, after an hour or so of sleep, look at the clock and despair; "How am I going to make it through this night?" And I had NO idea what was happening to me. No clue. No knowledge of the oxygen deprivation. No idea that I wasn't getting REM sleep. But I would wake up in the wee hours feeling like I had single-handedly taken on the Roman Legion. The constant fight for breath was wearing me down before I even had a chance to wake up and start the day.

IF you feel like I have described, IF you snore, if heart disease, stroke, diabetes or any other life-threatening issues run in your family, don't fuck around. Don't wait, and above all don't be ashamed. I snore like a friggin' pirate, but that doesn't mean I am somehow a bad person, deficient, flawed... It just means my airways are too small and they collapse at night. Do yourself the biggest favor of your life and take some action. Do something about this. Sleep the sleep you deserve, rest and be healed.

Blessed be. Earthalujah.

Morning 2

I slept way better last night. I think I'm getting used to the sound of it, and to the odd feeling of breathing through it. Did NOT get up ridiculously early with Michael, decided to snooze in another hour. Had a very strange dream about my parents house, laundry on the clothes line, and Mom in a rush to get the clothes in so I could get off to the Republican Convention. I poked her chest and said, "What? Have you MET me?" I have never been so disrespectful to my mother! The lesson here is, calling me "Republican" is an insult which I will not allow to go unchallenged. Harrumph. (I must really hate those old rich white male misogynistic motherfuckers...)

That was the first dream I remember so far. Eesh.

The only thing bugging me now is that my nose hurts... The mask is causing some irritation around my nostrils, so I'm hoping that settles down soon. Really sore. I loosened the part of the strap that goes over my head, and that helped. Maybe tonight will be even better. I'm awake, alert, and feeling pretty darn good this morning.

Thoughts on this new adventure with the CPAP machine

I snore like a pirate. Used to just snore like a sailor, then it got worse - apnea. Started feeling really, really shitty, gained some weight for NO reason, knew disaster was about to strike, so... Bit the bullet, had a sleep study, got the CPAP machine - which stands for Continuous Positive Airway Pressure. And yes, it is a huge change, and wow, it makes a huge difference.

For the record, I did not like the mask. I have asthma, and the mask is too much like breathing your own breath. I hate breathing stale, warm air. So they gave me this little mask with little pillow-like things that go into your nostrils. As long as you keep your mouth closed, it works really well, and apparently I do.

I slept with it on last night. I must have slept some, because the night passed in clunky intervals... but I was awake a lot, because this thing is just so weird. But, I think I was awake less than usual, and didn't wake myself up snoring, and didn't have to fight for my breath, and probably had a stable oxygen saturation level and uninterrupted REM sleep... And I did wake up when the alarm went off feeling strangely refreshed... I actually got up with Michael, which surprised the heck out of us both.

Not that everything is 100% roses at this point... No, I'm at the very beginning stages of recovery from this serious condition, and I have got to try to remember to cut myself some slack. Like this afternoon, for example, I decided to take a nap instead of trying to power through the sleepiness. So I think I will try keeping this little online journal to recount the experiences I have as I go forward.

Last night I had the strangest dream

I dreamed, actually this morning, that martial law had been declared, and I was in a place (very foggy, you know how dreams are) with one of my dearest friends. Orders were being barked at us by some very stressed and, frankly, inept soldiers. My friend disobeyed a bad order, an order that had she followed would have endangered the safety of everyone there, and she was immediately arrested and confined. She was taken before a tribunal and almost instantly judged guilty, but many of us in the room thought it was because she was a lesbian, and that if she had been a straight woman she would not have been arrested. She was barely given a chance to speak in her own defense, and we were not allowed to. She looked at me before they shot her and said, "Make sure they know about this."

So I'm telling you. This is not the country I want to build, where a woman doing the right thing can be killed by a conservative force because she won't toe the line and be "normal." I desperately pray that this was not a prophetic dream. I know it was just a dream, but the rage and the shock and the unbearable sadness over the loss of my friend were very, very real. The way she charged me with making sure people knew the truth was real, too.

We don't dream in a vacuum. Sometimes, sure, when people wearing cheese ask you the way to the fwaf fwaf fwaf and your dog winks back and forth between a Westie puppy and a full-grown St. Bernard... Sure, those dreams are probably just your brain flipping channels, so to speak. But some dreams have enough power to hang together and move us, and those are the ones that are trying to tell us something. Those are the ones that are urging us to move.

We don't live in a totalitarian state, but Fascists are currently desperately trying to do whatever they can to undermine the current administration and make war on half the population. Human rights, the things we should take for granted - the right to marry who we choose (or NOT marry at all), the right to not have babies if we don't want to, the idea that our vote will actually count - those are things we are having to fight for every day. What century is this?

I am telling you my dream, because she asked me to. I am begging you to wake up and start speaking out, because we must if we don't want the above to become reality.

You know when you're on the right track

Saturday, I was gigging with my friend Bobby at Java Creek, our local acoustic and original music hot-spot, during a much-needed rainstorm. It ended fairly quickly, and someone came in and said there was a double rainbow over us. I thought, "Damn right there is!"

When you're doing what your heart and soul call you to do, magic happens. Things that might seem like coincidence are suddenly chock-full of meaning and importance. Little threads get woven together, one-by-one, threads ordinarily unnoticed, until there is an unexpected piece of fabric warming your life. Rainbows light up where you are. You get happy. Oh, my gods, you get happy.

Wednesday June 20 is the Solstice, the longest day of the year when the Sun is at its most radiant and powerful. It is a day to embrace the bounty that summer brings, to relish the lush and verdant life around us. It is important to acknowledge, even in the midst of celebration, that the planet is moving and turning, and six months from now we will keep vigil through the longest night of the cold winter, and celebrate the birth of the New Sun.

How is any of that relevant? Well, as musicians we go though times of plenty and times of poverty, and in times of plenty we need to take a few moments to be grateful, and maybe be a little proactive about planning for the times when gigs are scarce and guitar strings are precious. So let me take a moment to say "Thank you" to all my musical companions, and all the bookers and venues that are enjoying this fruitful time with us, and a big "Thank You!" to the fans who are finding their way to us with hungry ears. Let the magic continue as long as it can! May the gift of song bring joy to every life it touches!

Mass exodus

Ray Bradbury and Doc Watson passed away within days of each other. This has nothing to do with anything, there's no connection... But for me, these were two heroes, two icons from my formative years. So many of my youthful influences have passed beyond the veil in the past few years... And it finally occurred to me that I've reached the age where youthful heroes pass on and allow those they influenced to become the next heroes.

I don't feel like a hero... I don't feel qualified... But then again, I don't think anyone was more surprised than Doc that he was such a hero. Still, I'd rather not... I'm from Iowa, we don't like to draw that kind of attention to ourselves. So I'll do it if you'll do it.

New people take me back...

I had a rehearsal with my dear friend John Waite last night, and a new musical friend, Dustin Busch, who I had met a couple times before but never played with until now. He's wonderful. And all night I had deja vu moment after deja vu moment, not because I had played with them before, or even played those tunes before, but because I was remembering the days when I was steeped in music, surrounded by it, eating, breathing, sleeping, living it every minute... And I didn't even realize how much I missed those days.

So Friday, June 8 2012, John, Dustin and I will be at The Wieting Opera House in Toledo, IA, starting at 7PM, along with Sam Knutson, Thankful Dirt, and the amazing Dave Moore...

Wow, that was... effective...

Dang, I blogged three times before I completely forgot to do it...

Life has been like that lately, though, and I guess we all go through it from time to time. Chaos. I used to think that chaos bred creativity, but now I'm not so sure. I think I was so prolific because creativity kept me SANE.

So once again, here we go. I will try to do this. It's good for me. Keeps the chops up. Keeps me thinking. Yep. Here we go. Any bets on how long it will take me to forget about it this time?

Rainy Fridays

I feel like rain and gray skies should somehow inspire some romantic thing in me, make me feel like writing wonderful, melancholy, strange songs or sad poetry, but it doesn't. I just want to take a nap. I have so many things to do, but the thought of doing any of it makes me want to cover my head with a blanket and put roots down into this couch. And then I start beating myself up, because I have so much to do, and I should be PRODUCTIVE!!!

So what about fallowness? Letting the fields rest for a season or two so that the nutrients necessary to grow food bursting with flavor and vitality have a chance to recharge? We forget to do this for ourselves. I have had a week consumed with activity, much of it not of my own devising. This is how a lot of us spend our time: Fatigue and depression are rampant.

One of the best things I did all week was take a drive out into the Wapsi River Valley with my son and traipse around with him while he took copious photographs. Some of them are fantastic. Some of them are gallery-worthy. But none of that is as important as the fact that my son and I were out in a part of the world where cell phone reception is non-existent, on a gorgeous day, taking pictures of stuff.

Photo by Byrn Dafydd Paul, April 11, 2012.

Spring is a funny time

Spent part of the day sneezing my head off and feeling utterly miserable, and part of the day outside helping the man I love tear part of a tree to bits... I had noticed a lot of dead branches in the redbud tree and mentioned it, and instead of weeding the dandelions and mowing like responsible, sane people, we attacked the redbud. Well, it needed doing. Redbuds must be really terrible wood - the wood almost shatters when you break it. So I broke several large branches and a whole mess of smaller ones into small enough pieces to fit into the city yard waste bags. It's meditative work, quiet, peaceful. You would think I'd have spent the time musing upon life, the universe and everything - but I did not. I spent the time in the moment, enjoying the breeze and the sunshine and the crisp spring air, not thinking of anything in particular. Sometimes you just have to let it all go. We shall see what has been stirred up in this head of mine in the days to come, however... Just you wait.

Well, No Promises Were Made...

It's been several days since I started this up again, and wow, true to form I have completely ignored it. Whaddayagonnado?

It's a quiet and reflective morning of laundry and grocery coordination... Feeling all domestic and have a strong urge to hibernate. All Fridays are good, but this one... Well, define good... Most people get a day off so this de-facto Christian Nation can celebrate a mythological character getting nailed to some boards and left out in the sun for a few days. Have fun, y'all, but keep it out of my face, would ya please? You don't have to rub it in. I'm going to make deviled eggs and eat chocolate, sure. I love deviled eggs and chocolate.

I have finally managed to put together the Inventory of Projects that I am currently in the middle of. Eesh. It's a big list, and I think I have forgotten a few things. But at least now I know some stuff won't slip through the cracks completely. Like, for example, this blog...

One more try

Yeah, a couple years ago I set out to blog with the goal of posting something every day, and that lasted for... Gosh. That didn't last. So here we go again. Can't even find the old one, so I'm starting over. New life, new blog. New shiny everything.

It's now 8:32AM and I've been awake since around 5:30. That's not a bad thing, just unusual. I've been up since about 6:20, also unusual. I'm going through a bit of a moment here... There has been a lot of chaos in the past couple years, I won't go into it here, the usual stuff that happens in your mid-40s plus a few bonus crises just for fun... And I'm suffering from extreme burnout. I have to get myself recharged or I will not be any good to anybody. Life lessons have been assimilated. Wounds are now being treated. Spiritual gangrene, at this point, is no longer a probability. Let the healing begin.