The Green Wave

I’ve been thinking lately about what usually happens when a gig ends. Picture this: I stand there, beaming and slightly high on music and stories, and people come up to chat with me. It is a great pleasure to talk with them, and I am entirely caught up in their stories, their lives, and all the kind things they say to me. Wonderful!

Meanwhile, across the room, all my CDs and cards and mailing list sit lonely on a table. People go there and look at CDs but don’t know what to do with their money. They mill around and sign the list and take the cards. Sometimes they put money into any boxes they see. Sometimes they give it to the person who organized the gig. Sometimes they just walk away.

Across the room, I am conscious that this is the moment when I might actually make a few sales (thereby funding the production of the next CD). But I am torn between wanting to give this next person my complete attention and wanting to make another CD. And according to my ethics, people precede CDs. So I let go of the CD table and refocus on this person.

For the most part that decision feels right. It’s only recently that I have realized that the impulse to talk to people and the impulse to sell some CDs do not have to be mutually exclusive. In this way, I think I’m a bit slow! This week, for the first time, it occurred to me to ask for help.

My good friend Kathleen very kindly sat at the table and sold CDs. Later, she was “spelled” by our yoga teacher, Dianne. For my part I was able to handle three conversations simultaneously:

1. A child: Can I play your flute?
2. A woman: Do you know anything about Irish jewelers’ marks?
3. Another woman: I am looking for meaning in my life.

These conversations would not have been possible without the help of my two friends.

This makes me think: What other aspects of my musical life could be made better, easier, and yes, “funner,” with a little help?

How about yours?

A few weeks ago, one of my friends posed this question to a bunch of us: “What have you done lately for the very first time?” I thought I’d answer it here.

I recorded a podcast for the very first time, using my brand new voice recorder. If you’d like to listen, visit this link: http://www.katechadbourne.com/n_dir/news.nsf/56ec028c410b0a1e85257444007b2e81/E0DFB5970EF5AC718525756D00535972/$FILE/Podcast%201%20March%2009.mp3

My friend, Kathleen, and I attended a fantastic weekend workshop to learn how to marble paper. Wow! The pleasure of spending a whole weekend in a busy, thriving, beautiful art studio with an inspiring, kind, and altogether wonderful teacher! If you’re interested, check out http://www.chenarivermarblers.com/index.php.

My friends, Chris, Nancy, Kathleen, and I spent a morning learning how to make baskets. For fun, laughs, and a doable, satisfying project, you can’t beat it. Check out our great teacher and her basket making supply company: http://www.basketweavingsupplies.com/.

I recently made a song in a completely different genre than usual. I’m not saying which one yet! But suffice it to say that it’s like nothing else I’ve ever done in my whole life.

So, all in all, a pretty good report for the last few weeks. But the truth is, my report would not always be so interesting or varied – and that is worth thinking about AND addressing! Trying new stuff is like opening the windows and beating the old dirt out of the rug. I feel alive, invigorated, brave, and flexible. My world becomes richer, deeper, broader, and more fascinating. I want to keep going with this adventure!

So, friends, over to you: What have you done lately for the first time?

Just a little fable today about how easily we can become derailed from our own vision and instincts, and how important it is to keep them at the center.

On Friday night, I attended a fantastic open-mike at a country store near where I live. The charm of this place! An old building with tall ceilings and exposed beams, how pretty it looks with candles lit on the Chickering piano, and all the pyrimids of cans and boxes adorning the shelves. The company is local and warm, and the caliber of talent is outragous! No one would guess that behind the door of this little country store, people are turning in performances worthy of the world’s great stages. And your admission cost of $3 guarantees you not only a seat, but a cup of hot chocolate.

So what to play? The musician’s perennial question. I came with two fairly new songs “spring-loaded”: a harp song I made for my love on his birthday and one I made recently when my old kerchief came to light and I imagined myself meeting that little girl who once wore the kerchief and who stood underneath the pine trees and wept at the beauty of evening light in the needles.

But listening to the excellent acts that came before me, I wavered. Was this second song just too personal? Too off-kilter? A little embarrassing? I recalled a recent conversation with some good friends about a rather dirge-like open-mike they had attended in which they sat through one sad, overly-long song after another. Was my song like this? I wasn’t sure. I began to scan through possible alternatives. I switched my focus from my own desire to share the song – a song which had come to me all in a rush one evening – to other voices and concerns and measuring devices.

In the end, I played it.

I loved playing it. It rolled out of me and it felt right. People sang the chorus. Playing that Chickering was a treat. My fingers loved it. The whole thing felt wonderful.

But what amazed me most of all was the response from the women who heard their own story in it. Yow! They told me they cried. Double yow!

I nearly didn’t share this with them. This is not to say that everything we do is going to evoke this response. But the reason we do or don’t try something out should rest in us, rather than in those phantom voices that take us over sometimes. And always, always, always, I want my decision to be based not on fear (“I’m afraid they’ll say this song is too personal, too weird, too drippy…”) but on strength and hope.

And so if this little fable has a lesson, it’s this: That voice in you that speaks with courage, hope, excitement, interest, experimentation, pleasure? Listen to that voice first!