Adam Yauch | 1964-2012
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From nothing to something.
Sometimes I have nothing to say. Nothing. Nothing is noteworthy. I am uncompelled. This has certainly been the case for this blog for the past month or so. And in my musical life for the previous six plus years.
During these times of ebb I can feel out of sorts, anxious. “Will it ever come back? What if it never does?” There are times I feel I should push through. Make myself compelled. Hah! Yeah. That works.
In the case of my musical existence I’ve been somewhat concerned. Maybe I was done. Really done. Not only haven’t I been singing, playing, performing, recording for years, I’ve hardly even been listening to music. Not in my car. Not in my home. Not on my iPod. Barely a tune anywhere.
When I’d really dip into this worry, I’d recall an episode of Iconoclasts that paired Fiona Apple with Quentin Tarantino. They’d shared similar circumstances — coming off mega-successes (Pulp Fiction for Tarantino, Tidal for Apple) and made the wildly unpopular and counterintuitive choice not to jump into the next project. Instead, they waited. For something to strike the antennae:
This perspective provided comfort. Nothing has struck. Just wait. Trust. Wait some more. Trust.
Until all of a sudden — something! I had experienced a brief moment of inspiration in 2008, resulting in some singing bowl singing tracks, that never went further than the actual recording process. Until a few weeks ago, when a Canadian healer, on the advice of a mutual friend, contacted me about needing a 10-minute meditation to incorporate into a breathwork recording. She described what she wanted, and I realized that those tracks might have finally found their purpose. I wasn’t entirely sure, but with deadline in mind, the antennae having been struck, I donned the headphones, dove into GarageBand, and let it unfold. It did.
The initial result is a 10-minute Heart Space Meditation. That the catalyzing healer is quite pleased with and will be incorporating in her work, and that I can offer for sale on its own, and that serves as a nice launching platform for my next steps. (It’s right over there to the right on the sidebar. You can listen to it!)
Beyond that, I’m inspired. The antennae has indeed been struck. I’m happily engaged and frankly relieved. I’ve missed this part of myself and it feels good to be back — from nothing — to something.
Posted in Art
2 Comments
My, oh my, how I do love me a spreadsheet.
I wasn’t always this way, and perhaps the devotion I’ve cultivated for spreadsheets is a testimony to just how much I have changed over the years. Let me count the ways…
I used to be estranged from money. Keep me and it far, far away from each other. Now though, I’ve become very present with it as a powerful ally for facilitating positive change, joy and balance in the world. My spreadsheet(s) (yes, there are many) help me stay present with the flow — where it’s going, what it’s doing, how it can work in ways more fully in alignment with my spiritual values.
I used to shy away from discipline and routine in my life. I thought that d & r translated to dull and restrictive. I’ve since learned that some discipline and routine keep my foundation balanced. Helping me have what I need within myself and available in my resources to be truly spontaneous.
I use my dear spreadsheets to show me how I’m progressing, to keep track of projects I’m involved with, and as reminder of what is important to me. There is an art to the spreadsheet, and I’ve become just such an artist. They will never be shown in a gallery, but that doesn’t make them any less precious. And my, oh my, how I do love me a spreadsheet.
Posted in Reflection
4 Comments
Becoming odd.
I’ve recently celebrated a birthday and in the weeks preceding have been contemplating the effects of aging, the my perceptions about appearance, and my relationship with all of this.
Let’s start with my hair. In my 30’s I changed my hair color as an expression — exploring different colors by whim. This morphed, mostly by accident, into an exercise in covering up the gray. It became less about expression and more about requirement. So that I wouldn’t reveal the age I was accumulating. As I observe my peers, women in mid-life, I’m beginning to realize that natural hair color is a bit of an oddity.
I’ve decided to become odd.
I made the decision to grow out my natural color. It’s taking some time, and I still have no idea how it’s going to look when fully evidenced. (I feel a little scared.) Despite this uncomfortability I’m certain I’d rather live with who I am than be shackled to my assumptions about people’s perceptions — that may or may not equate “gray” with “bad”.
Then there is the subject shame of wrinkles. I have them. It may be a popular choice to fill, plump, or in the very least aggressively hide them but I feel a genuine fondness for my wrinkles. Despite my inner-conflict of (once again) the opinion of others (whoever they are) society (whatever that means) and me (at least that part of me that is cruel and judgmental). I prefer not to banish them.
So, why not be odd? Oddly loving. Oddly accepting. Oddly happy with who I am, and oddly at peace with my appearance.
I’ll oddly see every gray hair as evidence. Of challenges weathered and sometimes won. Of learning and stretching beyond my comfort zone. Every wrinkle a testimony. Of surprise, curiosity, interest, or smiling really really big…about becoming odd.
Posted in Reflection
1 Comment
Covers.
As a musician I have strong opinions about covering other people’s art. In my solo work and as lead singer in a tight four piece alternative band I was thrilled to have done only one cover — ever. (And in the instance of that one cover and our hard core “no covers” stance, we covered an original of the local band we were opening for and only did it once.)
I’ve always held that when I cover there are only two options I’m interested in:
• Be accurate and more. Make it a tribute that is true to the form, melody and musicianship of the original, and if it is performed even better, all the better. Own the original, in its original form, and then some. (When we covered that other local band we undoubtedly knew and had practiced their song more than they had. They loved it.)
• Render it unrecognizable. Do it well, but in some creative way that makes people tilt their heads like inquiring dogs: “what is this? It’s so familiar…” until the lightbulb goes off. Or causes them to laugh because it genre-bends into something truly unique and unexpected. (Paul Anka covering “Black Hole Sun”. Brilliant.)
I think of this because of my recent entrancement with videos of Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used To Know” and an amazing cover that lands right in my opinionated wheelhouse. (Thank you Roy at Return to the Center for the introduction!) See for yourself…
Posted in Reflection, Soapbox
Tagged cover songs, covers, Gotye, Somebody That I Used to Know
1 Comment
300.
Three H-U-N-D-R-E-D Consecutive Days of Yoga
(That’s all I have to say.)
Be a real badass.
Throw all your cards on the table. Take ruthless responsibility for yourself. Claim who you are, what you’re up to and what you want and need with 100%, no-shit no-kidding clarity. Be a real badass. Ask for help.
Not wishy-washy, think good thoughts for me, vague requests for help. (People have no idea how to handle that. They scratch their heads and in confusion probably end up doing nothing or, at the most, very little that is useful to you. Which will make you feel like crap. Victimized. Abandoned. “Nobody loves me…”) Instead, be the badass who speaks up for exactly what you need. If you need $100 ask for $100. If you need it in cash ask for $100 cash. If you need it by a specific time ask for $100 cash, by a specific date. And follow it up. Ask for an answer. Define where, when and how it will end up in your hands. Design the alliance with the person who is supporting you. If/when you will pay it back, or if it is a gift. Be bold, be brave, be specific, be a badass. Ask for real, specific, tangible help.
This isn’t just about money. It’s about anything you could possibly need help with. Babysitting. A ride to the airport. Help painting your kitchen. A shoulder to cry on. Fifty pounds of dog food. Anything.
The benefit for you is that you will get the support you actually need. Not what other people think you need. The benefit for your supporters is that they will be clear whether they are able to help in the way you need or not. They will also know, if able to help, that they have really helped in a very helpful way. (This feels awesome.) By asking for help this way you set things up for your helpers to succeed brilliantly in their helpfulness. (It’s very generous to ask in this way if you really think about it.)
The sticky part is that this form of badass-ness requires you to be absolutely truthful and transparent about who you are. This feels vulnerable. Pure vulnerability is not for the faint of heart. (You will be seen.) It requires that you take responsibility for yourself. It might cause you to question whether you can be trusted with the responsibility to determine your own wants and needs. And whether you deserve to receive what you are asking for. (“Am I good enough?” “Who am I to ask for this?” “What will people think of me?” “Certainly someone else deserves this more than I do.” And other such dreck…)
If asking for something “big” feels too, well, “big”, start small. Maybe you could ask for $5. Try it out. See how it feels. Find out that you don’t spontaneously combust. That people actually do want to help you. That it’s ok. That you’re ok. That you do deserve to receive help and people like to help. It makes them feel good to help you. Limber up until you feel more brave. Go ahead, just do it. Ask for help. Be a real badass.
Cleaning out and hyperventilating.
Though not a fan of spring cleaning (why would I deliberately stay inside when the weather is getting nice again?) I am a fan of cleaning out in the fall. This isn’t anything I’ve planned or long-pondered. It’s intuitive. I seem to do it every year and it certainly makes sense that I do. I’m spending more time inside. Our house is small. (We often refer to it as the cabin of our boat. Though Lilliputian by house standards, it is generously proportioned by boat standards.)
This type of living has advantages. We’re smooshed into this house, with very little room for escape or avoidance. Personal and relationship issues must be confronted. Sooner rather than later. Or they’ll demand to be — sooner rather than later. There’s also an economy required when it comes to “stuff” and “things”. Minimalism works better than decadence. Hence the fall clean out.
I love and loathe the clean out. I love it because it makes living in this cozy space easier and more enjoyable. (And since I not only live here, I work here, it is doubly important.) I loathe it because, inevitably, I hyperventilate.
Well, I don’t actually hyperventilate. It’s more of a whole-body tightness and unease as I confront the old, worn-out, or grown-beyond. Weighing the decisions of the past and measuring usefulness in the future. Begging the questions: Who was I? Who am I now? Who am I becoming? And how does this particular bit of stuff — fit? The end result is great. The process kinda sucks.
I tend to be irritable and snappish. I will take it to a point and then get stuck or overwhelmed and walk away — regardless of the mess I’ve created in my sorting through and out. Though I look forward to the eventual results, I don’t envy anyone my company during this wonky process. Cleaning out and hyperventilating.
Posted in Reflection
2 Comments