Friends,

First of all, thank you for reading “HOW AM I NOT MYSELF” and sharing where you’re at. I was struck by how it resonated with you and of course I felt justified in my feelings. We are seemingly all teetering on this edge, like we’ve been run to it in a Thelma & Louise style chase, except we’re not smiling as we go over that cliff. I want you to know, I hear you-and I am determined and committed to find a solution for us as community. Let this time be a reckoning for those who are left behind, who don’t have the resources they need to thrive.

Ok. On to the next thought. This weekend I did something very scary, so scary it’s taken me my entire adult life to do it. I shared a “song” with someone. Someone I trust, who I know will always have my back, and I was still terrified. All morning I walked around the house doing any but prepare for the session and felt like throwing up. I think I even manifested the mini flood in the basement that happened not once, but TWICE yesterday. When I finally got there, I took a walk in the sunshine to get brave.

I don’t know how your moments come to you from The Well, but mine come while I am driving in my car in the 8 minute drive to work, and 8 minutes is not a lot of time. As I drive to work, I am usually listening to CKUA and host Grant Stovel and I seem to have a cosmic connection because he always plays the right music, usually something I need to hear. And for me to find inspiration, to get to the source, to God, I need no distractions, so there is no place better than being strapped in to a moving vehicle! Music is like a bridge that takes a listener to other places in their minds, and for me it takes me to a place where I can tell myself the truth of who I am. So, I often have my phone at the ready-because some of these glimpses into my inner workings are so fleeting that I can’t remember 5 minutes later how it sounded or the shape of what i said. I have a phone chalk full of “inspiration blips” from 2019 to the present day. And yesterday, I finally played one for a dear friend, and what struck me most was the effect it had on her AND me. It took us most of session talking to realize that I was ready to share it with her and it was beautiful in the way she heard it, and it brought it to life. I have always believed in collaboration, but I needed a reminder that I am not in this alone. I have felt a sincere need to be taken seriously since I can remember. I was bruised as a young teen when my poetry wasn’t any “good” to someone I trusted and admired, and that imprinted on me deeply. This bruise led me towards academia and away from pursuing a stage career in music. Little did I know that it didn’t matter what anyone thought about my innermost workings, what mattered was the carving the path towards authenticity, and continuing to share it, no matter the consequence.

That path has been interrupted over the years, by miscarriage, raising children, heartache, loss, tragedy and financial strain. I have put up my own obstacles, created my own limitations and given myself outs from doing the hard thing. (For instance, I can’t be a Good Mother and a Good Musician) Right now, I’m on an entirely different path, one that is not academic and not artistic, one that takes all I have and all that I am, and my well is soon emptying. During my time working at the facility, I have found it nearly impossible to marry these paths. While I usually can find my way back, I’m not sure which way to go this time. In some conversations, such as the one I had yesterday, I felt so brave. I felt like I could leap. Now I am back home, and I am scared to say the things I said the day before. I am a chronic people pleaser, which can oddly turn to anger towards others even though I am more angry with myself. “Forget it,” I’ll say, retreating back to the edge of the cliff like a martyr. (That is a whole other blog post.)

So, I will keep you posted. My friend and I have a plan, and by sharing this I am accountable to you all now.

For now: please listen to this beautiful song that was one playing early in the morning on my way to work the first time I heard it, and I really needed it at the time:

Ane Brun’s A Gentle Wind of Gratitude

Much Love,
AJ