Back from Hawaii as I wonder the next steps: keep making music, keep pushing forward, keep minding the bumps along the way, keep hoping there will someday be a big pay off. Then I think the multitudes of azure and turquoise waves of the Pacific Ocean, cresting and falling and sometimes smacking into one another. Sea turtles are my latest inspiration. Having never seen one, I saw three or four a day along the shores of the Big Island. No matter how rough the surf, how large the waves, or how threatening the jagged coastline of lava rocks appears, these turtles just go with the flow. They do no resist the pull, they do not let anything affect their contentment riding the waves. I must learn how to ride the waves.
Keeping a legal distance from a sea turtle I’ll call Eckhart
Seeing the majesty and beauty of this Hawaiian world left me questioning why any of the principles in this world matter at all. Why we search the perfect job, seek to make oodles of money, get involved with unfulfilling relationships, and rush away each day to the next best thing. In Hawaii, I found myself rising with the sun everyday, smiling in its warmth and looking forward to each new moment with joy and gratitude. It was a blessing to be with my friend and her husband and baby… a reminder that in spite of all the mishaps I have seen, some folks have it together and actually have happy families.
I need the ocean. I love New York, but wonder more and more if my time has come to leave. I had prayed for clarity on my journey to Hawaii but have only returned with more questions and uncertainty. As a last resort, I may find myself back on the island, learning the ukelele and living out of an old VW van.
Enjoying a fried Hawaiian Platter. Yum.
I’ve been in the studio recording songs for “Sweet Clarity,” and the latest song is about an urge to soar highly leaving the weight of the world behind. For at least the past ten years, I have this recurring lucid dream and meditation. I think over the best possible scenario that would allow my body to feel completely surrendered and weightless. The first scenario tends to involve a hammock enveloping my body, flexible to the give and take of motion and secure enough to let go. The second scenario is based after some movie scene with Jennifer Lopez ( I think it’s “The Cell” and whatever it is I never saw the film in it’s entirety) where she is suspended from a ceiling. I imagine fishing lines, sturdy wires attached to all my joints and body parts, like a marionette supported by it’s handler, the weight of my body dissolves.
I’ve always thought I had a terrifying fear of heights; standing on the rooftop of a building or near a railing looking down, I feel the nervousness and anxiety ripple through my body until these little waves of fear take over like a tsunami. Perhaps, though, it is not the heights that terrify me so much as gravity. Without gravity, there would be nothing to fear.
“Hanging on another string, that ties me to uncertainty of where I’m going to land…” the opening line of my latest song. By the time it’s released, I can only imagine what the title will be of the song. I’ve been indecisive so far, with possible titles like “Hanging on Another String,” or “Flyin’ High,” or “Awakening” but perhaps the most fitting title is, “Gravity is Overrated.”
Everyone was questioning me about what the new year would be (since last year was 1976). Would I progress through the 70’s? Would I jump back or ahead in time? 1977 just felt right. I recently realized there will soon be a point that I have lived more of my life in the 2000’s than in the 1900’s. This is not an enticing thought for a girl who wants to move back in time and not forward.
But nonetheless, I’ve included my New Year’s tribute… and last year’s as a reminder. In 1976 I was looking for someone who would be willing come and accept my love. I did not succeed. But this year, with my partner-in-crime from the days of “Bette or Bust” we manifested our own lists and sent them out to sea. We cannot always control the outcome, but we can stay focused and full of hope. What are your dreams for the New Year?
And last year, 1976: