I've Been Everywhere, Man, and I'm Still Here

I've been across the west side of this beautiful country, and I still feel very confused.  It's hard to explain the feeling inside me—the one that wants so much more (or so much different) than what I have but doesn't know exactly what that is.

I sit here in glorious Ashland, Oregon, wondering about what I want, still battling the urge to binge, still searching for mysterious signs, and trying to get in touch with my intuition.  I'm trying to listen.  I'm trying to do this thing. 

I want to go home, but I don't know where home is.  Houston doesn't feel like home anymore.  I plan to move out of the house where I'm living as soon as I return. The question is only where to go.  I am caught between the desire to write and create and the need to earn a solid income.  How solid does that income need to be?  Where will it come from? 

Even at the hardest times in my life, I've been okay.  I've been cared for.  I cherish the support I get from others, the love I feel all around me.  I cherish it and hold it dear, but all of these experiences are not reducing my level of anxiety and worry.

I changed the oil in my car today—or rather, I had some car experts do it for me.  I wish I could do a sort of oil change on myself.  I guess that's what people are looking for with detox regimens and colon cleanses, but this runs deeper than the physical. I need to change the way I see the world in some fundamental way. I need to make the pieces snap together in a way I know I cannot.  So I search.

I definitely feel like an eternal soul trapped in a mortal body, like I'm some sort of spirit that has come down to help this Michelle Cowan person make it in this world.  Sadly, the spirit part is kind of sick of doing the human thing. My spirit is stuck here, with this body at all times. I have to deal with hungers and tiredness and limited sensory capacity. I have to move linearly through time, deal with people, and adopt a limited perspective. How can I appease this restless spirit part of me?  How can I live a life in this body that satisfies my spirit?

I am, oddly, afraid that I'll wind up as a crazy homeless person or something.  I see myself as successful, peaceful, and happy, but this other, scary, deeply unsuccessful image comes to my mind, too.  It's strange. I know that I will be okay, but at the same time, I don't know if I'll be okay.  I don't even know where I want to live.  I feel like spacing out and being by myself for a while, which is what I'm doing at many points during this road trip.  Interestingly, my best moments on the journey have been with people, but I've loved the alone time, too.  I guess that means that despite my need to solitude, I need to ask for help.

Frankly, I need a job (or maybe multiple small jobs).  I have enough work to occupy me for now, but that's mostly because road tripping takes up the vast majority of my time. I will need more if I want to pay rent.  I want to go into a job at least three times a week, have friends, and live in a home I love.  I also want to do some of my work on my own time, according to my rules. That's just me and just some of the time. 

I hope that writing and music could add up to be enough, but I also need steady part-time work to give me a secure and steady salary.  What will I do, though?  What will I do that I won't absolutely hate? I feel very open, but I'm not sure what the opportunity will be. 

It occurs to me that the opportunity will come at the perfect time and that the time isn't here yet.  I wish it could get here soon.  I'm ready for it.

In an interesting sidenote, I finally have a pretty concrete idea for a novel. I'd like to bring that to fruition. I'd also like to record an album. Both projects move slowly, they are far from money makers. Perhaps I would be better served by leaving off the worry and just creating—create without financial worry.  It is possible?  Methinks yes.

The Atomic Grill Saved My Life - or at Least My Evening

The Atomic Grill is the Empire Café of Santa Fe, and I couldn't be more pleased to have stumbled upon it.  The restaurant I had gone in search of was already closed (at 8 pm on a Sunday), and I worried that I would go into a hunger-psychosis if I didn't find something else quickly. Anyone who has experienced my hunger-psychoses knows that they are to be avoided at all costs. Fortunately, I kept it together with a few soothing mantras as I proceeded to get totally lost near downtown Santa Fe. 

I can only assume that a higher power guided me to a vacant parking spot on the street. After checking the menus of two places on that block and deeming them too expensive and too devoid of vegetables, I happened to cross the street toward a park square where I saw twenty-something hipsters hanging out on a brightly lit patio. Something told me it was the perfect spot!  It stays open late, serves breakfast all day (including build-your-own omelets), provides free wifi, employs emo/hipster servers, and offers an assortment of homemade pies.  The Atomic Grill is an Empire Café doppelganger if I ever saw one.  And I loved it!

I was finally able to get a little bit of work done tonight while sitting in the cool evening air on the Atomic patio. I drove from Lubbock to Santa Fe this morning, landing at the Puye Cliff Dwellings 45 minutes north of town, in Espanola. I not only drove into the mountains, I climbed them… or one of them… to see the places in the lava rock-faced mountains where the Pueblo Indians lived centuries ago.  Needless to say, I was bushed.

While visiting the Puye Cliff Dwellings, I dared to also tour the mesa top, where tour guides show you the remains of a Pueblo fortress and take you inside an actual Pueblo kiva. Many Native American tribes use kivas as their places of worship and ceremony. Kivas are large circular pits dug in the ground where the people would come to enact rituals and speak with the gods. The top is covered with wood, and the people dig a small hole in the side to allow the fire to ventilate a bit. It felt healing just to be there—and fabulous to get out of the sun.

I was so high, above the valley, amid mountain ranges and ancient history, with my trusty Pueblo guide to answer all my questions. It brought on feelings I haven’t felt in a long time.

I am thrilled with this day—exhausted but thrilled. I wanted to wander around Santa Fe more and will try to get some wandering in in the morning. But I need to keep trucking if I want to get to Oregon in time for my cousin's wedding.  At this point, I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I do know that I can't wait to see my family in both California and Oregon… and that I'm going to bed very very soon.

Loving It in Lubbock

The road trip has begun. I left Houston on Thursday and trekked up highway 36 to Lubbock, where I met my brother Kuhrt and his wife Lindsey. Only an hour into my adventure, I took a detour to visit Blue Bell Creameries in Brenham, TX. Who could resist the lure of fresh-made ice cream (other than my brother, who mysteriously does not like ice cream all that much)? It's nearly a sin that I've lived in Houston for six years and never visited the creamery.

You'd think everyone on the tour was six year old, the way we were instantly fascinated by the fast-moving assembly lines. Ice cream sandwiches, rainbow bars, and carton after carton of oh-so-creamy ice cream, all put together and packaged before our eyes. The free scoop of ice cream at the end didn't hurt either. I'd say it was altogether worth the five dollar admission price.

Tummy happy, I was on my way. It's a beautiful drive—maybe not the most beautiful in the world, but amazing just the same. Blue skies and green expanses made me feel that I really had escaped the doldrums of my life in Houston. I'm really doing this. I popped in some Clarissa Pinkola Estes, and nourished my spirit in daydreams I can't remember.

During the last hour, lightning struck very near my car more than once. Stealth lightning that hit without thunder came before any raindrops. Luckily, I made it to my brother's house before the larger part of the storm hit.

It’s amazing what seeing a brother will do. The relationship between a brother and sister is a special thing—a jewel that varies from one brother/sister pair to another. My younger brother and I have always gotten along. Aside from occasionally terrorizing each other as children, we got along peacefully.

Because we never attended the same school at the same time, we didn't have to deal with much sibling rivalry. Sure, it probably annoyed him that my name preceded his in middle school and high school. But one conversation with Kuhrt removed any preconceptions anyone might have of him. Happily, we are very different people. Whereas I tend to be uptight, obsessive, and anxious, Kuhrt tends to be laid back, practical, and jovial. People like Kuhrt immediately, and he's one of my favorite people in the world to be around. He's absolutely a joy to talk to.  I've always been happy I have a brother—and that I have this particular brother.

Needless to say, I feel taken care of here in Lubbock. I leave for Santa Fe tomorrow, and I definitely want to hold onto the feelings of belonging I have here. My trip definitely has an introspective focus, but it's nice to temper that with connection and high-value relationships. I tend to undervalue my relationships, but more and more, I know that I cannot live without them. My touchstones on this trip will sustain me for the solitary, introspective days in between.

What's more, I played at D'Vine Wine last night. Despite another crazy storm, I had a wonderful time. People I haven't seen in ages came out to support me, and it was fun to play three hours worth of music and work on new material. Thank you so much, Vikee Clark, for the hook up!  I can't wait to come through and play again.

For now, I'm luxuriating in the fact that I am loved and that I love others. My darkest moments come when I feel most disconnected. People ground me in reality. I need my alone time to gather my inner strength and to listen to the wisdom that only comes from the soul.  And I need other people to expand my awareness and to give and receive love. Without both pieces of live, I cannot thrive. 

This trip already rocks!

The Beauty of Different

A year ago, I visited Bright Sky Press here in Houston and was immediately captivated by a particular book on display: The Beauty of Different by Karen Walrond. One glance at the cover, and I knew the book would be a wonderful experience. I didn't get a copy at the time, but a month or so ago, after loudly announcing how intrigued I had been by the cover and the title, I snagged a copy of my own. 

I wasn't disappointed. I love anything slightly off the beaten path and insist on finding the beauty in things most people sneer at. Someone has to buy the misshapen pears at the supermarket. Someone has to root for the villain, right?  Some might call me a contrarian, but after reading The Beauty of Different, I'd say I'm in good company. Walrond tells the stories of eight ordinary extraordinary people, weaving her own history into the mix with words and gorgeous photography.

I'm a sucker for beautiful books, so at one glance, I knew I would enjoy this one.  I felt like going out and conducting my own interviews after reading the stories of these people—their passions, their motivations, their heartbreaks, their unapologetic authenticity, and their creativity. Their stories don't make them seem like pristine, perfect people who I could never be like. They are unique human beings who put one foot in front of the other and make things happen outside the status quo. In short, they are the kind of people I want to be.

I'll freely admit that I liked the book largely because Walrond echoes my own world views on inclusiveness, spirituality, travel, authenticity, and life in general. It feels like a book I could have written, but my version would pale in comparison, devoid as it would be of Walrond's lovely photos. The imagery and her curious approach to lofty subject matter make every topic extremely accessible to any reader. I would recommend it to anyone, not just because her perspective resonates with me, but because her photography will captivate most everyone.

The book teems with insight and lovely phrases, but it certainly isn't the best writing I've ever read. Despite that, as a whole, physical book, it beats most bestsellers on the market today. This isn't a classic novel, after all.  It's a book from the heart, full of meaning and earnest sentiment.  Most of its effectiveness comes from the careful combination of words and photos. Even if you never actually read the book, you won't regret the moments you spend luxuriating in Walrond's stunning images and colors. The book is a complete, satisfying package.   

I feel like I found a friend in Karen Walrond, like I want to meet her friends and encourage her as she continues to pursue a creative life of writing and photography—a second life for her after a decade as an attorney. I sit here, a writer and musician who has only recently chosen to leap from full-time corporate to full-time creative, and from this place, I'd characterize my reaction to the book as jealousy.  Yes, definitely jealousy.  I wouldn't take anything Walrond has away from her, but I certainly would like a taste of it. Things to come… methinks. 

As all good books should, The Beauty of Different makes me want to live life a little differently, visit new places, meet new people, and create new art. It's inspiring.  If you need some color in your life right now, pick up a copy. You can find it at Bright Sky Press and at Amazon. And don't miss Walrond's treasure of a website, http://chookooloonks.com. How can you not fall in love with a name like that?

Use that Radio

I am not in this alone.  None of us are. 

In this new venture of self-employment, I sometimes feel like a sailboat out to sea.  I’m not a sailor, but I can imagine it would be pretty scary to ride the winds out into the middle of the ocean, until you can’t see any other ships, only to have the wind suddenly stop. Okay, the ride out there is great, but once you're there, what do you do?  Wait until the wind starts back up? What if it doesn't start blowing?  Do you get out oars and start paddling, even though you don't know exactly where the shore is?  What do you do?

Life feels lonely like that at times, mostly because I spent so long in a regular 9-5 world.  It’s fun, believe you me, to wake up each day and get to choose which projects to pursue, which avenue to search.  It’s like having that giant wind at my back, propelling me out into the ocean.  The possibilities are endless.  I am capable and confident that I will make this work, that new clients are coming, that I am going to make a new album, find a great place to live, and have all sorts of adventures along the way.

That wind keeps me moving, keeps me actively sailing. I stay preoccupied with the wind, managing the wind, enjoying the wind.  But then, periodically, the wind stops.  It’s a lot less fun out there on my own with no wind. When I get tired, or my mind starts playing discouraging loops, or I start believing old lies about how I never do anything well enough, I feel alone and momentumless.  It’s not that I lack hope; I just get tired. 

I have to rest sometimes; I know that. But I avoid rest because when I rest, fear bubbles to the surface.  I'm not alone in wanting to avoid this. Fear can paralyze, but it can also motivate. Today, I choose to use the energy of fear to fuel me moving forward. Fear can stop my motivational wind from blowing, leaving me feeling stranded. But if I can move past the fear, I think more clearly. I think of alternative solutions, or I might look and discover a backup motor on my boat to keep me going.

But what about when moving past the fear doesn’t work?  What about those times when I keep trying to work and only feel like I’m going in circles?  Although I don't always use it, I think I've figured out the secret: I reach out.

In my little, stalled boat, I use the radio.  Yes, the radio.  I ask other people what to do.  I ask for help.  That is the secret of success. Sailing solo is great, but I will never get anywhere without help. I have to ask other people how they run their businesses.  I need financial advice.  I need leads on new clients.

I saw a financial counselor last week, and our simple hour-long discussion gave me tools I certainly didn’t have before.  Some elements left me feeling a bit overwhelmed by all I have to do, but mostly, I felt empowered because at least I now know a few steps to takes.  I don’t have to do them tomorrow, but I can start thinking about it and planning for those steps so that I am ready to do them when they get here.

So many of us who strike out on our own have long histories of getting things done ourselves.  We have false notions that we should be able to do everything on our own, that it is a sign of weakness to ask for help. But frankly, how are we supposed to start up a wind on our own?  It’s impossible.  We need help to get to where we want to be. 

That’s what I’m doing, asking for help.  It’s essential.  You can do it, too.  No matter where you are in life, it’s always good to know how other people have tacked situations so that we can tackle them with as much information as possible.

After asking for help, my next step is trusting myself to act on that information in my own time.  I don’t have to implement everything today or follow the suggestions at all.  I can wait until the time is right and my heart knows exactly what is best for me.

Reach out today!  You won't regret it.

Projectile Sharing

Sometimes, when I don’t share something that’s been burning on my heart—when I suppress it and refuse to speak it to another person for a long period of time—that something eventually comes out on its own. It will be shared… and often with the wrong people.

A friend and I were discussing this a few weeks ago, and she suggested I blog about it. The night before our discussion, she had laid out her heart for a group of people (not just an individual person) she didn’t know very well.  Yes, a little alcohol was involved, but not much. Sometimes, it doesn’t take much. When we need to share, we share.

When we go through hard times, we are hard wired to connect with others and pour some of those feelings and experiences out. We can’t hold them all alone. Unfortunately, it seems that many of us are hardwired to suppress the impulse to share. Why?  Perhaps saving face or feeling competent and in control are more valuable to us than feeling better. We do many things that prevent us from healing because our self esteem matters more.

It’s our self esteem we’re talking about here—not a small thing. We want to protect our self esteem, and it drives us to hide things that have caused us shame. This sometimes means that we go for long periods without talking about the heaviest things on our minds. And when those thoughts and feelings get too heavy, they come bursting out, all over people who may not be safe to share with.

Of course, some people don’t have this issue. They understand relationships intuitively. Bravo for them—for you if you fall into that category! Maybe I’ll get there one day. For now, however, I have to work to reach out and open myself up to perceived disgrace or rejection. I forget that people will more than likely embrace me when I share something difficult. I forget that I often leave the situation with more self esteem, because the other person validates my feelings or accepts me, regardless of what I’ve done or experienced.

It’s best to share when you know you need to. Listen to your heart, and when it aches, don’t wait. Call someone. Even when you’re not sure if you’re ready to share, you can get on the phone and tell someone that you have something you want to talk about. You can leave it at that, or maybe you will realize that you are ready to open up. The important thing is to let someone know that a secret burns within you, that you a have a burden that needs lifting, or that you have something wonderful to say. Speaking this truth starts a positive, active flow. If you don’t share, you’re damming the flow and possibly causing feelings of stagnation or depression.

I understand the fear of becoming a person that shares profusely, all the time, with inappropriate people. I am not advocating projectile sharing. Listen to your heart, and it will tell you when you need to open up and will often guide you to safe people with which to share. I’m trying to save you from the uncontrollable sharing that happens when thoughts and feelings lie dormant for too long. Stay in touch with yourself.

Those are my two cents. Don’t let the need to share build up to the point where it could spew out on anyone. If you are so concerned about what other people will think, wouldn’t it be best to share it with the people who are least likely to look down on you for it? Now is the time.

Silence

I love silence.  I like my house to be totally quiet because noise and activity easily overwhelm me.  I’m in love with silence.  It holds within it something beautifully eerie, sacred, and open.  In silence, I can hear thoughts and let them go.  I feel connected to what I’m doing and connected to where I am.

To some people, this seems strange—for a musician to prefer the quiet.  I’m constantly humming tunes, making up songs, and generally thinking of music.  But with all that music in my head, why do I need it everywhere around me?

Now, I love a good concert.  I love entering into a zone that envelopes me in sound and lights and people and total and utter stimulation.  Euphoria.

I specifically go to concerts for that experience. In day-to-day life, I prefer silence.

Enjoying silence most of the time allows for a dramatic shift when I do turn music on.  The contrast between silence and music brings the house to life in a new way.  I start smiling.  I start moving.  I start feeling better. My mood shifts just a little.  Silence in the house is one kind of treat; sound is another.

I regularly go into the living room, sit at the piano or on the couch with the guitar, and play. I’ll sing most of the time, too, letting the vibrations engulf me. I might write songs, learn new ones, or ramble on in an improvisational stream of consciousness, searching for total immersion in the music or new songs I haven’t found yet.  Whatever the mode, I love floods of sound.  The more sound, the better.  I wish I were an entire orchestra sometimes.  And maybe, somehow, that’s what I truly am.

I am a symphony of sound.  Inside me lies every note that has ever been played in this world.  I feel it, and I think that other musicians feel it, too—like we’ve heard it all before, been it all before, and are trying to find it again. Perhaps that’s why I’m so easily overwhelmed by other stimuli. I’m already so full of the magic of music.

Music is my gift. Where it comes from, I don't know. I write this to answer those that would question my love of quiet and to encourage them to find the beauty in it, too.  Music fills me so completely that I have to blot out the outside noise now and then (or most of the time) to hear the sounds that want to manifest through me.

In the end, silence is the way I hear music, and music is the reason I love silence.

Sidetracked by Fear

I’ll admit it.  I got a little distracted this week, but I’ve nailed down the culprit: fear. In my first week of self-employment, I decided to pursue a job as an assistant. It was advertised as only around 10-15 hours per week, and even though the pay was minimal, it sounded good to have some sort of steady income on the side.

I interviewed for the position and was accepted, but after three days on the job—yes, three days—I realized that assisting is not my strong suit.

Besides the basic disconnect between my personality and everything an assistant should be, the entire time, I was thinking, “I need to be working on my own business.  I need to be growing my own client base.”  Even though my new boss had a lovely personality, explained things as best she could, and didn’t ask for too much, I couldn’t do it. I needed more time to get into the rhythm of my new life.

The honest truth is that I don’t know how much extra time I have. I’m working all the time, so it would appear that I have no extra hours to spend running errands at near-minimum wage. I could be spending a few hours finding clients who will pay my full fees instead of bringing only a handful of dollars home at a time, or I could be devoting energy to my true love: music.

But my client list is short and the gigs do not pay that much. It’s frightening. I have dozens of contacts, contracts with a number of different organizations, and no offers. I’m finding small projects, but I have to cross my fingers that I will continue to find more.  I’m getting more and more music gigs, which is fabulous, but I would prefer more paying ones. It’s rough. No wonder I reach out for the familiarity of a “regular” job.

Anyway, my side job cut into valuable morning creative hours and gave me such stress attacks that I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. I wanted to be there for my boss.  I really did.  But my heart was not there, and I felt overwhelmed by every aspect of assistantship. Being at someone’s beck and call is not my forte. When set on default, I’m a “my way or the highway” thinker who believes that she knows best in just about every situation. (I’m not saying that I think I am correct in this mindset or that I act on this mode of thinking most of the time, but it is my instinct to insist that I’m right.) Bottom line: If my kneejerk reaction to authority is “no way,” what am I doing trying to take orders for a living!? 

I quit.  For the second time this month, I quit.  It didn’t feel good.  I hated leaving my new boss in the lurch. But it’s what needed to happen. I have to follow my heart, which knows that I will get more business over time. I ended the job the best way I could, finished out my duties for the week, and went home to look for work.

My days are already filled with engagements and networking events and jobs that I need to concentrate on. I want to grow my own vision, not someone else’s, wonderful though it may be.

At the end of the day, I got back to my dream, to my vision, and to the challenge before me. I have to lay a strong foundation for my music and writing/editing business before I desperately reach out for new, “regular” jobs. I must let myself be free for a while. I am doing everything I need to do. No need to get distracted.  Keep walking forward. It will all work out… I’m choosing to believe that.

No More Dying

I felt like I was dying. That’s the best way I can describe it. I would be sitting at my desk, staring at the computer, feeling the keyboard under my fingers, and I would think, “I’m going to die.” Not a suicidal thought, just a premonition.  If I continued to sit there, at that job, in that building, doing the same thing every day, I would die. This I knew.

So I quit.  After four months of torment, fear, sadness, bingeing, resignation, anger, meditation, crying, praying, thinking, journaling, and dreaming, I quit. When I made the decision to quit my well-paying, full-time, insurance-providing job, I felt free. I felt like I could live in the world again.

I told my boss about my decision four days after I made it in my heart. I had discussed the choice with people, who mostly reacted positively.  I was rather shocked at how responsible they seemed to think I was.  I doubted I would be able to get myself to focus each day, trying to find work as a musician and writer, but they seemed fairly certain that I would do it. It occurred to me that I might be far more mature and reliable than I estimated. Perhaps I am.  Perhaps I’m not.  That remains to be seen.

I have been self-employed for three days now.  I have a few solid clients with Rock Star Writing and Editing already. By a few, I mean 3-5, and only two of them are booked for more than a single project. In music news, I couldn’t get any other musicians to sign on for the second Mi’Show, which is happening on May 4. Nonetheless, I have a nice vision in my head of a solo concert, so I think it will work out.  I have a lot to say to my fans right now, and perhaps I need an entire two hours to say it to an audience.

I have little idea how I am going to make ends meet. At this point, I don’t even know if I’m approved for individual health insurance.  If I get it, how will I pay for it?  My decision to leave my job seems increasingly insane.

Still, I do know one thing. The thought of going back to my old job upsets my stomach, up into my throat. I don’t want to go back. It was certainly not a bad job.  It was the best job I’ve ever had.  I was paid handsomely for work that, honestly, wasn’t that difficult. I liked the people there.  The office location was beautiful.  People appreciated my writing and editing for the most part, and I got to contribute in many other ways to the company.

Nonetheless, I was going to die.

Today, I don’t feel like I’m going to die.  Today, I feel free.  I feel afraid.  But I also feel free.  Part of me is strapped down by thoughts clambering for me to find more work, more money, more gigs, more everything. But another part of me knows that I will always have everything I need.  I just don’t know what I need yet.

I watched the sunset today from my car.  I was coming back from a recovery meeting that focuses on steps 10, 11, and 12 from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.  We call it After Nine. The concept resonates with me.  We focus on spirituality and on our connection with others.  It lines up brilliantly with something my last sponsor told me. She said that recovery is really about three things:

1. Connecting with God
2. Connecting with others
3. Connecting with ourselves

That’s what After Nine is about. I may not fully ascribe to everything the Anonymous programs typically stand for, but I do feel that this part of it works for me.

I feel that something in this universe knows more than me—can see farther than me—even if that something is nature, pure and simple. There is a future and a past where I do not exist. I exist right now, in the present. And right now, the present is a pretty uncertain place. Or maybe it’s the most certain place. 

In this moment, I know that I am sitting here, writing this post, choosing words.  I know those things.  I don’t know the future.  I don’t know how long I will be able to work for myself or even if I will be able to work for myself at all.  I’m not sure what I’m going to do with music or if I will really find the new outlets I need.  I’m scared that I will not find what I need to make this life work.

But maybe a higher power will give me what I need instead.

Maybe I don’t have to know.  I am trying.  The bottom line is that I am putting one step in front of the other.  Even in my darkest times over the last few months, I did not stop getting up in the morning.  It became very difficult to do so, and I would procrastinate on taking that first shaky step out of bed in the morning. But I kept living life.

I gave it my best.  Yes, my best sucked a lot of the time, but I gave it. I am giving it.  I have goals for how many hours I want to work each day.  I have specific milestones I want to reach. But I don’t know if I will manage to work that many hours or reach those milestones.  I don’t know if I will achieve my goals, and I also don’t know if my goals are really what my goals should be.  I’ll go after them, but I hope that the universe/circumstance/God/Goddess/whatever takes me to the best place for me.

I keep thinking that Houston, Texas, does not reflect my values and isn’t nurturing me the way it once did.  Perhaps it’s time to move on.  However, Houston Community College has a great music production program that I want to complete, and I treasure my friends and other connections here. How will I know whether to stay or go?  Time will show me.

I canoed almost 15 miles down Buffalo Bayou last Saturday with some friends. I felt my smallness.  The boat wasn’t very big at all, but it was certainly bigger than I am.  The canoe seemed so insignificant compared to the trees and the steep, sloping sides of the bayou.  The sky was so much taller, and the city streets so much more massive than anything I have ever been or created.

I quit my job. I play music. I write.  I edit.  I look for work.  I look for ways to feel in touch with the world. That’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’m doing.  And a whole big world continually expands and engulfs all of it.

I’m glad I quit my job.  I’m glad that I can go anywhere in this big, wide world. I don’t know if it ever dawned on me so fully that I can truly go anywhere and do anything.  I’ve known that at an intellectual level, but I’ve never put it into practice.  Since I was a teenager, I’ve had a plan for everything.  I always follow the plan, and when the plan inevitably does not work out, I make another plan.  How about not making a plan?  I don’t mean discard my personal work schedule, goals, or other organizational tools.  But how about loosening my grip on those things?  How about life not being my plan, but instead, the way I do things?

Thinking about plans in that way helps me understand that I don’t know the outcome of what I’m doing.  I don’t know what will evolve out of my current efforts.  But my current efforts feel right.  I love writing.  I love inspiring others.  I love talking to other people about the things I’ve learned in life.  Perhaps these things will come together in a life I enjoy—in a life I want to live.

I’m going to die—eventually. But I’m going to live right now.  In my uncertain, unsteady, bewildered, inquisitive, sometimes frantic and afraid, sometimes peaceful and confident way, I’m going to live. I’m going to put one foot in front of the other and see where it takes me.  I’ve heard phrases like that for a long time.  Now, I’ve given myself a chance to really feel what the words mean. In a way, I want God to show me that she really is in control, that my life is okay.

I don’t want to binge and cry away my whole life. I want to write, travel, love, play music, give, and enjoy.  When I tell you that you can make any choice and do anything, I mean it.  Every decision ha consequences.  And guess what, I can deal with those consequences.  You can deal with those consequences.

I’m not going to tell everyone who hates their jobs to quit them. I am going to tell you to listen to your heart. Your heart knows when it’s dying and when it feels alive.  It knows how to live.  I don’t know how it knows, but it knows.  I feel it in my spirit.  I am shared out of my boots, shaking, weirded out, and totally puzzled by what I’ve done. But you know what? I’m allowed to make a giant mistake.  I’ve never let myself do anything that I thought would be a huge mistake, and even with that kind of forethought, I’ve still made too many mistakes to count.  I’ve always avoided any major choice that I thought could turn out very, very badly. 

Well, this time, I see the possibility of failure.  I recognize it.  And you know what?  It’s worth it.  Failing would be better than never trying at all.  At least I’ll be somewhere different when I hit bottom. And maybe that’s all my heart needs: something different.

Heart, I won’t let you die, especially not in front of a computer screen.

The Softer Side

I've been listening to meditation CDs again… Therefore, my mind is full of compelling—and sometimes questionable—statements. For instance: "Soften all the places that are rigid within you."

All of them? I want to go all soft? Really? I don't know. Does that sound like balance?

That's a question for me to answer personally, over time. Honestly, I wouldn't mind being completely gentle and quiet with myself for a while. I'm tired, my colon is still sensitive from an infection six weeks ago, my ear is only now healing from its own infection (thank you swimming pool!), I decided to take up strength training again (ouchy for the muscles), and I'm going through major work/life changes. The list could go on.

I want to put myself to bed, pat my forehead, and leave my body suspended beyond space and time. When I was really sick, I started setting boundaries to accomplish just this. I set an earlier time to get ready for bed. I removed some old commitments and tasks from my plate. It seemed that illness had wrested me from the hard-driving mentality I have historically operated under.

Lately, however, I find myself veering back into old patterns, and it affects how I deal with food. When I'm tired, I want to eat more. I don't always do it, but I often find myself eating more than I sense that my body needs. If I lack comfort in any area of life, I tend to try to get it through food. And I want this pattern to stop.

Food is my simple comfort, but I know other, simple ways to comfort myself. Zoning out isn't completely negative. I can play mindless games of solitaire, read a novel, listen to a radio program. I can even meditate, call someone, take a walk, or do some chores.

However, notice one thing: I only now arrive at sleep. Sleep. Why don't I go to sleep? Why do I insist on staying up and journaling so that I can figure out why I feel so out of sorts? I already know why I feel out of sorts. I'm tired. And sleep is the only cure, yet I keep pushing it away.  At night, I fear grieving the day.  I fear leaving it and all the possibilities it contained (and that I did not attain) behind.

Sleep is gentle.

But I'm a go-getter. I'm driven. I can accomplish more than the average human. I can push myself to the limit and bounce back. I can make it. I am called to achieve greatness.

Those are lies (or at the very least, untruths) I tell myself. What good is greatness if I'm too tired to enjoy it? 

I know countless individuals who struggle with sleep, who struggle with being gentle with themselves. When it gets late, instead of simply going to bed, I spend time mentally kicking myself for not going to bed sooner. When I do that, I'm wasting time. I already know the appropriate course of action, and I can choose to replay old tapes or to act on my own wisdom.

It's time to recognize that getting enough sleep, resting, pampering myself, and allowing myself to be a less-than-productive human being is necessary. I may rail against the idea of softening all the rigid places within me, but when I do, my colon feels better, I fall to sleep easily, I feel in step with others and calm as I go through my day. When I'm gentler with myself, I'm gentler with others.

I'm still mulling over the idea of completely letting go of rigidity. A little part of me insists that there are times in life when I need to push. Sometimes, it's necessary to go beyond my feelings and intellect, or to briefly don a hard shield of protection. That's what the little voice is saying. But does that voice know the truth? Have I ever really let go of all rigidity? If I never have, how can I say that it won't work?

In any case, for me, now is all about balance. I am living in the moment and trying to incorporate a practice of gentleness in my thoughts and actions—toward myself and others. Perhaps the more softness I acquire, the more I will realize how defeating rigidity really is. 

I'm sure I'll have more insightful answers once I've gotten a solid eight hours of sleep.

Business Blog

Since I've been quiet for so long, I'd like to showcase some of the other work I've been doing.  Visit www.apqc.org/blog for some of my business blogging.  I write professional articles for APQC on process management, measurement, and innovation, but the blog is where I get to have fun.  Go there, and you can find most of my entries under the Business Excellence topic.  Here's a quick link: http://www.apqc.org/blog/category/business-excellence.  Fun! 

Business = fun?  Possible?  I say yes!

Recovering Just in Time for Storyville on Sunday

After a three-week bout with illness, I'm back in the land of the living.  This has been a time of relearning how to give control over to a higher power.  I am once again committed to my own personal practices of meditation and of the 12 twelve steps.  Thank goodness for sponsors and divine intervention. 

My anxiety has been so high lately that I cannot help but see the cracks in my recovery... especially in my ability to release control.  Trusting is difficult, but nothing helps me understand how to trust like a period of time when my body--something I am particularly close to--behaves in ways I don't understand and can't seem to control.  My body is miraculous.  Its healing power is phenomenal.  I am repeatedly amazed.  My body's resilience reminds me to trust it more, rest it more, and not to push it in order to distract myself from emotional turmoil. 

I am now forced to face the tough anxiety and emotions I've been having this year.  I cannot force-feed my body or over-exercise it to make feelings of physical discomfort replace the deeper emotional and mental discomforts.  It has been a difficult time, but it has consequently put me back on track.  I am trusting every minute--for healing and for joy.

And it's a great thing, because I have an important event this weekend.  Storyville, the jazz group I sing in, will be at The French Corner on Sunday at 8pm.  Read more about it on my Upcoming Gigs page.  This is a major concert we've been working toward for a while.  I'm excited to share the interesting things we do vocally with an audience.  If you are in Houston, come out!  I'll be happy to talk with you about all the craziness that has been happening lately.

"When it rains, it pours," they say.  For me, when it pours, it's never all bad or all good.  It's always a mix of a bunch of everything.  And I'm proud to say, I can take it... and give it back over to a higher power ;)

Rock Star Writing and Editing

I'm finally ready to start my own writing and editing business: Rock Star Writing and Editing.  I'm thrilled that I now have enough experience to offer quality services through a more professional structure.  Please tell all your friends... and your boss... about my new venture.

Life is getting a bit stale, and I need to bring more variety into the work portion of my life.  Working for myself and choosing a more diverse set of projects promises to bring just that.  I'm searching for something.  I feel very displaced and hungry for an unknown experience.  This new business is one attempt to find a new level of satisfaction. 

It may not be healthy to continually seek the next level in one's life or career.  It's a pretty futile journey.  The human soul is never completely satisfied.  We never reach the apex of achievement, even when we accomplish our most outrageous dreams.  Even though I know these things, I also know that I am a person who rarely feels content.  Although I meditate and seek knowledge and try to base my worth on things other than my accomplishments, I am always reaching.  Instead of denying or suppressing that desire (as I often do), I'm embracing it in this effort to bring a new work element into my life.

Please support me by visiting www.rockstarwriting.wordpress.com.  And tell everyone you know, especially those who regularly hire freelance writers and editors or who have a need for technical or other business writing expertise.

Rock on!

Winetopia on April 30

Come out to Winetopia (www.winetopiatx.com) on Saturday, April 30, from 8-10pm.  I'll be playing, and they'll be serving up fabulous wine and artisan beer for everyone.  Even if you don't drink, come out for the atmosphere alone!  It's been a while since my last solo public gig, so I'm ready to go with new songs and an eagerness to see everyone again. 

Houston has been annoying me lately, so come out and make it feel a little better ;)  Your presence alone makes it possible...

Saturday, April 30
8pm - 10pm
No cover

Winetopia
6363 San Felipe St., Suite 240
Houston, TX 77057
www.winetopiatx.com