I can't find the woodshed

I can't find the woodshed. I keep getting turned around and distracted. It was here, I swear, it hasn't been that long. And I got a list a mile long of things I must do. I got songs I have to write, I'm way behind on the truth, but I can't find the woodshed and I'm afraid of my guitar. I'm afraid of mistakes and not knowing what they are.

So today I cracked the notebook, I got a pick and a tune. I wrote some crap in hopes of finding a way  that I could get through. Because I know I've got work, I know it's still there, but I can't find the woodshed and I feel too exposed, I'm feeling too bare.

So if you read this, I'm trying. I'm trying to find my way back, but I can't find the woodshed and and I can't find the track that I took on the way the last time I went. I'm trying to find the woodshed, but this is as close as I can get. 

"Pay attention" or "It's all up in my head"

I like to find connections. I like to see a thread clothes-pinning one thing and then another down the washline, like bread crumbs down a trail leading to somewhere I don't see just yet. I say "yes" a lot just to see where the "yes" might lead thinking that if the offer appeared then maybe there's something behid the offer that needs exploring. So these days I like paying attention to who's saying what and if there's any connections anywhere.

Yesterday here's the run down of what happened that had me thinking about it for the rest of the day:

1. My husband and I had a disagreement about dreams of home improvement. We have this half wall that's turned into a joke because we always talk about removing it, but who are we kidding? It's not going anywhere. The conversation started with home improvement but ended with a bigger issue.  The fundamental question came down to: are you OK with things staying the same? In tears, I confessed, "I just don't want to feel like all we're doing is treading water." And then Jon went to work.

2. I finished this documentary I had started the night before about Misty Copeland the first black female principal ballet dancer of a major American Ballet Company. She's the bomb. Her story is great, the documentary isn't as great as she is.

3. Feeling brave because of Misty,  I wrote two crazy emails: 1. asking to open for Glen Hansard and 2. pleading my case to American Songwriter Magazine for why my album is worth of a review. Because why not? 

4. I go to work and there I meet one guy who tells me a mutual friend has taken a salaried job and left farming. You don't hear that one every day around here. It was a surprising bit of news. And I think, "He's not treading water. He's making a huge change because that's what you have to do sometimes."

5. The cafe lunch rush is slow and I stand behind the bar thinking about me and my husband and how we need to spend more time together. I think about the Misty Copeland documentary and how my husband has never been to the ballet and I think, "we should go to the ballet together." So I look up the Lied Center on my phone to see if they have any ballet on their schedule and MISTY COPELAND IS PERFORMING THE FIREBIRD IN LINCOLN IN FEBRUARY! That's crazy. 

6. Eventually another table walks in the door and I know them because they are church workers from another congregation having a staff meeting over lunch and, as this pastor comes up to the bar to pay the check, I ask him how he's doing and he tells me he's taking a restorative sabbatical starting in September. He then proceeds to tell me that includes a trip to Italy, an intense marriage retreat for three weeks, and a faith retreat on his own among other things. And I think, "He sees that treading water won't be enough to keep him going in his ministry forever. That's awesome." 

And I can't stop thinking about this string of events which happened mostly in my mind and I wonder, "What's the message? What am I supposed to learn from this?"

Here's the good news: I don't have to know the answer. And there's no right or wrong on this one. I can forget the whole thing and be just fine. However.....there's this laundry line I see and one by one there are clothepins leading to what might be the best pair of jeans I've ever had in my life if I keep my eyes open and see what is possible for the future. And so presently I ponder. I wonder. 

I'm inclined to think that the message is a subtle one. It's to remind me there are slight shifts and changes happening in our lives all the time- not necessarily to us, but to our neighbors and while at a glance it may look like things stay the same, they never really do. People around us are falling in and out of love and then back into love again. They are writing and re-writing their resumes and going on interviews on their lunch breaks without us ever knowing. They're taking classes online, they're working a second job. They are making counselling appointments and breaking counselling appointments and wrestling with their relationships with their children who are ever changing and entering new stages. 

We can't see any of that and so we don't think of it. We think we're all just humming along, but underneath, if we know our own struggles, then it would be wise to remember our neighbors aren't any different. They're watching the tide just like us. They're thinking about making their move just like we are. 

It can be hard to get those wheels in motion. It can be hard to start turning the boat around, but it's possible and it's happening all over the place even if we can't see it. Make your move. Little or big, visible or invisible, make the move. You never know. The best jeans you've ever had in your whole life might be at the end of it all. 

2018 so far

2018, so far, has been pretty good. We started it in Southern California and, on January first, we were at the beach watching dolphins diving in the water off the coast while we played catch with a football, buried ourselves in sand, looked for shells and found hermit crabs in the surf while the tide went out. It was pretty great.

We stayed with my mom and dad, we spent time with my brothers and their families sharing a meal together at the end of most days. It was so great. We went out to dinner, drove up to L.A. to visit The Getty Center, we played the game of Life both to the joy and defeat of one another as we made money then lost it. Life is hard.

The temperatures here in Nebraska have been frigid. There is snow on the ground. The warning lights on the car keep going off for mostly harmless reasons....I'm pretty sure they're harmless.

On Friday Star Belle packed up the van and drove over to Lincoln to play a show at the Crescent Moon and it was so great. As always, we got set up, we took to the mics and then we enjoyed the ride singing our songs and cracking each other up by being ridiculous. It was so great. We had a listening crowd on a Friday night in a frozen world. The cold couldn't keep up from having another magical night of song.  And then we sealed the deal by going for sushi afterward braving the two block walk from the venue to the restaurant. It was awesome. I love playing shows with the girls. I just wish we could do it more often. 

Photo by Megan Launchbaugh

2018 feels like a year of transition, but I just don't know to what end. Some days I think it's to an office job and a steady paycheck. Some days I actually entertain the idea of more gigs and more music. My "office" is a mess. I started cleaning it up on Saturday. What do I do? Hit "reset" and keep on keeping on or do I shift the space into something else? 

And I hear this little voice whispering to me again, "If nobody buys your cookies then maybe you should get out of the cookie baking business." 

2018 so far has me not letting go just yet. I'm looking around and wondering what I should do feeling slightly overwhelmed by an office that has become a disaster. I used to know (kinda) where I wanted to go, but now I don't. That's the question for 2018. Where to go from here. 

Thank God it's only January. Thank God there's still time. 

2017 in Review

Well it's been a real barn burner. This year has really been something else. My friends and I used the theme of "Balls to the Wall" for the year and I think we did a pretty good job of sticking to that mantra. 

I made three records and released one of them. It's called "Three Black Crows" and I like it a lot. Since writing songs I've been desperately seeking good work and I think I finally found some songs worthy of releasing so I did. I couldn't have done it without the help of my friends and colleagues in music. Behind the scenes there was self-doubt, fear, self-doubt, quitting, starting again, fear and more self-doubt, but we pushed through it all and did it and I've got the debt (and record) to prove to it.

I didn't write songs that much, but I was busy doing other stuff. I looked through my notes and I think I wrote 12 songs, two of which made it on to the album so that's cool. One for each month.

In 2016 I played 38 shows and thought I was going to die. When I told my husband at this time last year that I wanted to try and play 50 shows he looked at me like I had just admitted wanting to walk to Japan. With a family and a job and volunteering as Sunday School music lady, cub scouts, choir driver, breakfast lady, and all the other stuff, adding 38 shows to the mix makes life kinda crazy.

Drum roll. In 2017 I played 52 shows. Other artists are doing double that amount, but it feels like a HUGE accomplishment for me. Woohooo!! And this year was great, but also really hard. It was the first time I cried when I had to pack and go back out after just getting home. Todd Snider said "The show's free it's the travel you're paying me for." And that line gets truer all the time. The show's always free. It makes me feel so real when I get to sing for people. The hard part is the time away. 

2017 was growing pains. So many growing pains. Growing pains about recording and music business, growing pains to see how much love and support people were willing to give me on the Kickstarter, growing pains trying to balance music, work and family responsibility and not getting it right. It was growing and taking chances I've never taken before and growing pains having to make choices to figure out how best to use what I've been given to help others.  I would succeed in some ways and fail in others and have to rethink where I put my energy. 

So I will confess that on social media I tried to make 2017 look amazing. Because it really was. It really was amazing. But in real life there was an equal share of desperation and fear and frustration and super guilt. But no one wants to hear any of that crap in 140 characters. 

So is the price for all the good things an equal share of hard things? Maybe. My friends and I all say that we all have to eat shit. It just depends on how you want your shit served to you. What are you willing to suffer in order to achieve what you've been trying to do? That's the question. We can't have everything so what's the thing you really want and where do have to take the hit in order to find it? 

I've been longing for music and for being heard for so so so long. I've been longing for that good work that I've been trying to achieve for so long. This record is it. To get it I've had to give up other stuff and 2017 made me feel those choices acutely in both good and hard ways. 

Thank you for sticking with this older, braver, sadder version of myself. Thank you for seeing the value in what I do and know that I think of you all when times get tough. 

We've already come up with a theme for 2018 and it's "Eat the Elephant." Because how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. That's all we can really do. We do what's next, we take the next step, the next bite and keep moving the ball slowly but surely down the field. I hope you feel inspired to do the same knowing there's some 40 year old part-time waitress, mother of three who thinks she's allowed to pursue a music career. I mean, that's crazy. So I hope it's the green light you need to go out and get what you're longing for.

Merry Christmas and thank you for a beautiful year.

Things I don't do

I don't sit down and spend the afternoon writing because I'm afraid and also because the housework and the things that are practical work jobs always take precedent. I want to spend the afternoon writing today, but I know there's dusting and decorating and shopping and work to do so even though the idea of writing songs during a free afternoon sounds awesome, I don't do it.

I don't go to a quiet place and pray. One day a year at church we hold a vigil and we all sign up for hours and half hours to fill a day with prayer and lift up all the things on our hearts. I feel like that one hour of silence is the best thing in the whole world and I long for it every other day in the year. You'd think I'd just go over to the sanctuary, take off my shoes, breathe deeply and spend time with God, but I don't. I tell myself I just can't be so indulgent as to take time in quiet and conversation with the Father. 

I don't call up friends to come over for dinner or go out to dinner or go to the movies or do anything really. I never call up friends and ask to do something. I don't do this because I'm afraid and also because the message is always to never treat yourself except for Netflix by yourself at the end of the day. All other fun things feel like they're against the rules. Like life is supposed to be mostly shitty and sometimes there's a ray of light and you hang on to that ray of light for as long as it'll brighten up the schedule, and then maybe you'll get by in the brief conversations you get  with friends and neighbors in the comings and goings of life.

And you know what I'm doing when I don't do any of this? I'm believing some weird lie about what life is supposed to be. I buy into the idea that adulthood is a drag or that life is only responsible and noble if we make sure we're not having fun. I treat peace as a luxury, as relationships as above my pay scale. I treat myself as a prisoner and as though freedom is out of reach.

And then I think about boys and how I never want them to think peace is only allowed if you get your work done and how feeling locked up is what it means to be an adult. I don't want them to think friendships end in childhood. 

If you're like me and not doing something, ask yourself why? Is it because of a rule you made up? I would dare to say you've drawn lines in the sand you don't cross simply because at some point you decided you don't cross them. 

Consider how all those NO signs in your mind and those actions you don't take are being broadcast to the world. 

Because I've been thinking about what I don't do, I've been thinking about how to change. Because I know that life is going to change in the next year, I've been thinking about what I want it to look like in the future. I don't want to be the one that teaches invisible NOs to my kids. I want to be the person who teaches them how big this freedom really is. 

And that's what I want to do. What do you want to do?

My phone might be getting in the way

I think maybe my phone is getting in the way of my plans for world domination.

I think perhaps my desire to get up to the minute news and social check-ins is keeping me from realizing my utmost artistic potential. It might be that my phone is getting in the way.

And ain't nobody got time for that.

I'm on Day 2 of an 18 day challenge. I've joined Jon Acuff (the writer of this book I'm reading called, "FInish") online to work on one goal for 18 days and apply some of the principles from the book to real life. I chose "Working on radio promo and Europe tour" as my goal. See, lots of times I try to make a list of goals or prioritize my list of responsibilities, but this challenge made me choose one thing.

In the running were such things as: Exercise every day, write song commissions, work on Youth Music, prep for Christmas Eve Program, organize house, do something to prepare for Christmas OR work on music career. I chose the music career one.

Why? Because I had to choose one. But having to choose one out of a list of high priority responsibilities reminded me that perhaps I have too much on my plate. And if I'm going to have a snowball's chance in hell to accomplish any of it, then I'm gonna have to put my phone away and get to work.So here I go. The chub will have to wait. I'm sending out radio promo materials and praying I can climb those Folk DJ charts a little higher.

In other news, I went to St. Louis last weekend and played some amazing shows, saw friends, spent time in a city I loved and, oh yeah, got kinda sick and layed in bed all day one day. 

The Songbird Cafe at The Focal Point L-R: Bill Chambers, Bill Poss, Anna, Steve St Cyr, Hope, Myla, and Dale the sound guy

I played the Songbird Cafe with Myla Smith, Bill Poss and Australia's Bill Chambers (Kasey's dad). It was the best. I love that venue and playing that series and not only that, I looked out into the audience and saw old friends and new friends and so many familiar faces that it felt triumphant for this small town songwriter.

Bill Chambers was amazing. We're friends now. He told stories about hunting foxes on the Nullabor and I just about died from wonder and happiness.

Hey you guys, don't let your phone get in the way of your destiny. Don't let fear direct you to Facebook instead of the blank page. Give fear the finger and call up your friend or your mom or do that scary thing you've been avoiding. That's what I'm gonna try and do. 

Go be awesome like I know you are. Someone out there needs it. Love, Hope

Songs, Thanksgiving, Advent, Passion and the future

I think I did it. I think I've got the first draft of one of my commission songs ready to go. I finished it yesterday after working on it for at least three weeks. 

Things I learned: 

• I like inserting myself into the story (as a first person narrator, not really me) but if you're hired to tell someone else's story, you have to challenge yourself to take the harder road and consider whether first person is the right choice. (I did choose first person for this one)
• When the story doesn't match up with your own reality, you need to stop talking and start listening and observing. Be the shape shifter. Get out of your own head and spend some time in someone else's. I learned "write what you don't know" means having to work for it. Be the actor. Go method (that's a phrase I heard in a movie once- namely, "Kate & Leopold").

Also I learned I am out of practice. It's time for songwriting boot camp. Hopie lazy. Hopie need to write more songs.

Thanksgiving. We missed it last year. This year we're headed up to Camp Luther after evening services tomorrow night and I can't wait. I'm in charge of the bird. Other people get dressed up and bring out the fancy china. The Dunbars go the opposite direction and wear warm camping clothes, sleep in sleeping bags and bum around on Thanksgiving. It's the best retreat ever and I know I need it. Songwriting boot camp is going to take place there. So will walks, puzzles, games, fires, and hymn sings. I'm reading this book called, "Finish" and it talks about secret rules we all have that keep us from getting where we really want to go. For example, I have a secret rule that Christmas time is a holiday for everyone else but not me so I have to be Cinderella and work my ass off because I don't deserve to have a nice holiday. I've decided to break that rule this year. Secret rules. We all have them. Maybe you have a secret rule about working out like you're not allowed to be goofy or have fun if you exercise. You've invented the rule that exercise is supposed to suck- so you don't do it because who wants to change shoes and put on a sports bra for something that sucks?

You might have a secret rule that Thanksgiving can only be Thanksgiving if it looks a certain way. That's rubbish. Going to Camp Luther was an impulse one year that became a tradition and helped me learn that "breaking" the rules and finding the rest you really need is possible for all of us. Secret rules are just the devil's way of keeping you chained up. Don't let him win, man. He's THE WORST.

Advent. It's on. The meetings, the program, the songs, the practices. It's starting. If I could quite my day job and hang out at church for a few hours each day, that'd be cool. I could shape it all, make the calls, do the rehearsals. Instead, it's early mornings and late at nights and when I get a few hours here and there.  It's still cool.  But not as cool as Emily's Christmas program for this year that she wrote herself titled, "Highway to the Manger Zone." It's incredible and magnificent.

Passion. My passion is music. You might know I've got this record that just came out. It's getting airplay from people I don't personally know in places in the U.S. I've never been. That's a big step forward for me. I've got friends and new friends who are helping to get the songs heard and I am in amazement. On a side note, I've quit my day job three times in the last 4 years and I've asked for it back every time. I beg for it back because I need the money. Ya know, for groceries and tennis shoes and haircuts. Some might say it's safety. Some might say it's a hiding place. 

So what is it? Is it the responsible thing to do or is it the thing keeping me from upping my hustle and working harder at the gigging? It definitely keeps me from doing the real work I wish to do all the time. But it also makes it so that I'm not gone every weekend.

So the future looks confusing. Yes, I want to gig gig gig. I love it. It feels like me. And also I want to be present here at home and have money for my kids college. I'm confused. I don't know what to do. One day I'm resolved to retire and the next I get offers to play gigs and I impulsively say YES. 

For now I'm thankful for a finished (almost) song, a long weekend, a trip to State Football for our Centennial Broncos, daring to break the rules, passion that has purpose and knowing I'm not alone even if the future is scary. I'm thankful for your reading this. Be encouraged. Know that you encourage me. Happy Thanksgiving.

You wanna be inspired?

We met at the Scale House yesterday morning to talk about family. I sat in the chair where Orville used to sit drinking coffee with a plaque on the wall honoring his dedication to York County Agriculture. I took notes with a view of the home place out the window and the feed lot to the north. I'm writing a song for their family and wanted to meet to hear some stories from Mike and Jan. At the end of it, Mike and I got in the feed truck and he let me ride along while we filled the thing with 13,000 pounds of a cattle "muesli." 

The feed truck.

I learned things about cattle, about Orville and Ruth and the home they built for their kids. And then I learned about their kids honoring their folks with their own families and lives. If you want to be inspired, start talking to people about where they came from and the legacy they love. If you want to be inspired, clear your schedule, pour yourself a cup of coffee and just have a conversation for the sheer pleasure of hearing someone's story and being reminded of how beautiful the little things in life are. Feed truck optional.

Then it was the lunch crowd at Chez Bubba Cafe, just like most days. Only the crowd didn't make it for lunch. I swept the floor, rolled the silverware, refilled BBQ sauces and waited a few tables before heading over to Lincoln to meet up with my buddy, Mike Semrad, and shoot a music video.

The set 11/9/17

We met up and set up and recorded a cover song, "Pale Fire" by Amanda Shires. Hopefully it gets a placement on TheBoot.com sooner than later. Stay tuned for more. We spent the afternoon talking shop and rehearsing before cutting the tune. It was so fun. Lately I've been collaborating with instrumental artists and am loving these new musical conversations. We don't really know each other very well, but we start playing songs and speaking the same language and it is magical. You wanna be inspired? Call up a friend, get out your instruments and start playing. Sing together on the chorus and remember how great it is to send some harmony up into the heavens on a weekday afternoon. Forget about all that stuff you've gotta do and make time for something that will fill you up and remind you what you're here for. 

You wanna be inspired? Don't wait for magic to find you while you're busy doing something else. Instead, make yourself available in a space where magic just bubbles up into your living room. It happens when we set aside the clutter (the phone) and create an opportunity for listening and responding, and for curiosity. Magic loves curiosity. 

This week has been filled with it. You know what Star Belle did the night before? We taught a ukulele class at a Brewery. You know what that was?  It was 20 people coming together, stopping all the other stuff in their lives and giving themselves the gift of music, of curiosity, of togetherness and good beer. We all walked away happy and a little lighter than before.

You wanna be inspired? 

Think about it.

Life in the time of Gratitude

When I was a teenager I remember my dad telling me that I needed to learn how to say, "Thank you."

 I am still learning. When people give me complements, my initial reaction is to make a joke or explain it away. It can be hard to take a complement (especially if you suffer from a self-worth problem like I do). And then I remember my dad's words and how he told me that it takes effort and care and thoughtfulness and sincerity to seek someone out and pay them a complement. We all think nice things. Some folks are brave enough to walk up to the person and say the words. My job is to hear the complement, remember the heart it takes to express it, and respond with gratitude. 

I'm so thankful he gave me that lecture when I was young. I think I remember trying to ignore him when he did it, but I heard him. And I'm still working on it. Some days I'm better at it than others. 

October is Pastor Appreciation Month. At our church, people are great at showing their appreciation. We get gift cards, meat. baked goods, beer, invitations to dinner, greeting cards, kind words and continued prayers. It's awesome and it's overwhelming and each year I ask my husband if we can quietly faze out the practice and he confidently tells me "No."

Life in the time of Gratitude. It is wonderful and it is humbling. There I am, standing at the doorway with a pan of homemade cinnamon rolls and suddenly I'm thinking about all the ways we don't work hard enough, where we miss the mark, and where we are undeserving of the kindness people show us. You wouldn't think warm baked goods would make you question everything you do on a day to day basis, but so it goes. And I confess that gifts can be hard. I confess love can be hard to receive. And I remember what my dad told me and I spend time thinking about why Pastor Appreciation Month must stand.

Let people love you. With muffins and cash and meat from their own butchering. Let people appreciate you precisely because it can feel uncomfortable to open up, to let love happen, to entertain the idea that we are worthy of the generosity. 

And don't squash the practice. Don't ever give the impression that generosity is foolish or unnecessary. Like we're so self-sustaining that we don't need the gift card to Barnes & Noble. The truth is we need it.  We need it to crack us open and consider how we can add to the pile of gratitude.  The whole world needs it in any way shape or form it comes by. 

And say thank you. And let the love sink in. And give thanks for life in the time of Gratitude. It's a work in progress and I am in wonder at how it gets to me and loves me and helps me grow. Thank you.

All I wanna do is have some fun (but fun is hard to come by)

All I wanna do is have some fun, but I can't because the to do list is a mile long.

If you've been following this blog-o-rama, you might sense some themes to which I keep circling back. They include, but are not limited to:

• REACH FOR THE MOON, IF YOU DON'T GET IT AT LEAST YOU'LL BE AMONG THE STARS!!!!!
• Domestic life mixed with a musician's life is tricky, but whatever
• Songs, songs, songs I love songs and writing songs.
• Clinical depression in five paragraphs with some gospel sunshine in the last sentence

Those are my go-tos. Sometimes I have an amazing adventure that breaks things up a bit or I go to a music thingy and recap how great it was and how much I love music. Today I'm going to touch upon all four main themes. Here we go.

1. Just recently I got messages from two different people telling me they were inspired by my work and it motivated them to continue in their own artistic pursuits. Wow just wow. Do I want people to reach for the moon? Heck yes!!! Are people doing it because they see me sloppily trying to do my thing? I guess so! This calls for many exclamation marks, you guys, but I'm not going to do it. But in my heart, know that I'm using a ridiculous amount of exclamation marks to signify how wonderful it feels to know I can help others feel validated in their own creative lives. Do it. Dream big. I will too.

2. Choir, Lincoln choir, boy scouts, cub scouts, Sunday school, Christmas program, Chime choir, youth group, chores, auto maintenance, holiday plans, Tae Kwon Do, band, video club, waitressing. All of it plus trying to stay on top of music business stuff is getting me down, man. I'm reading this book that claims we keep ourselves from achieving our goals through "noble distractions." Noble distractions are those things that we say we need to do so we selflessly  sacrifice our true goals. I relate very much to this idea. And life is hard.

3. Songs. I've got 12 songs to write and no time to write them. Again, if I forsook everything else I could just clear off my schedule to do what I really love to do. So why am I not doing it? I'm friggin' terrified, you guys. Help. Any ideas on how not to be afraid? I think I know the answer is to pick up the guitar and start writing. Nothing would be better, but the lack of open time spaces is serving as an excuse. Not cool, life. Not cool.

4. Finally. Dude. Straight talk. I'm drowning. If I were a completely different human with a completely different set of skills I would be better suited for this world. I just posted a review of my record on facebook where the best line is "This one's mellower than I like and "The Shooter" and "Revolver" are upsetting, but acoustic music fans may enjoy it." That's nice and honest.  I'm dropping all the balls, but I'm trying. I am not doing nothing. Just close to nothing. And the ray of sunshine is that I'm gonna left right left myself into a better state of mind until the day when I'm doing it better than I am now. Left right left until then. Some days that's what winning looks like. Peace.

Like a toddler with a pudding cup

I was talking with a friend last night.  In the course of the conversation this is what was said, "We always think we're being shaped by the bad stuff. By the hard stuff. What if we let ourselves get shaped by the good stuff instead? What if we let joyful things in with the understanding that beautiful things can turn us into someone new also?"

I had never thought about that until just that moment. I woke up thinking about it.

I drove down to Austin for SWRFA last Wednesday. I got back home late Sunday night. It was a magical, wonderful, amazing meeting of the music and I'm so thankful for it. I'll confess to you  that I got there and people knew who I was. That's new for me. People came up to me repeatedly telling me how much they love my new record and liked my songwriting. It was beautiful to be the recipient of so much kindness and appreciation. Holy cow. Friends of mine went out of their way to help get the word out about me and my work. And when I think about it now it feels unreal. Like I was the Cinderella and, you guys, I'm forty and I don't work out that much. 

Not only that I got to be surrounded by friends and discover new music and hear great musicians share their work in such a lovely, friendly supportive atmosphere. It just doesn't get much better. It was my first time at SWRFA. It won't be my last. I have so many people still to thank for it.

Tomorrow "Three Black Crows" comes out. Seriously, if for some reason, you can't get it at bandcamp or Amazon or itunes, please, email me. I'll get you. I promise. I am a real person and I want you to have the record. 

This moment feels triumphant, peaceful, happy and emotional. I did it. It took me a while, but I did it. And even though we didn't start recording until March, it feels like this record's story started ten years ago. That, right there, is enough to make me cry.

I'm reading this book called, "Finish" by Jon Acuff. It's about allowing fun and imperfection into your goal setting in order to finish what you start. I think he's right. It was a hard ten years, but I kept going because I really love songwriting and I think it's fun. It feels like magic. And I completed this record because I made peace with the imperfect way in which I got here. I made lots of mistakes. I had set backs and freak outs. That's OK. The important part was that I kept going.

You should too. Have some fun. Fun should be part of your life and part of whatever it is you'd like to accomplish. Give yourself a break. No one is demanding perfection. Starting, messing up and continuing is a great way to keep going. Fear of failure should never be allowed to keep you from starting. Be like the 3 year trying to open a pudding cup. She does not stop. She might get pudding everywhere, but she's getting that pudding. And good for her. A little pudding on your hair/face/clothes/pants/ eyelashes never hurt anyone. Do it.

The record is done. You should see how much pudding I have on me. It's crazy, but it feels great.

Tears for Fears "Everybody Wants to Rule the World."

It's Jesse's birthday today. I'm the breakfast lady at his school on Tuesdays so he brought the "You are Special" red plate with him to school so he could eat his breakfast on it. He's twelve. He's a dreamer and I love him.

My mom and dad said goodbye and made their way to Boston yesterday. After a week and half of warm weather and high temps here in Nebraska, the rains came on Sunday night and we hugged our goodbyes in the rain with jackets on. We had a great visit. It made me want to smile. It made me want to cry an ask myself why, again, do we live so far away from each other? Things don't stay the same. We are never promised a tomorrow and yet that isn't enough to make me want to drop everything and hold my mom's hand and walk in silence while we still can. You probably have a running list in your mind of all the people who need you and all the places you should be. If you're like me, you're only accomplishing a fraction of those duties at any given moment. And so I pray Come, Lord Jesus and forgive me.

And on top of that there's this record that comes out on October 6th. And what if you love the music like you love another human being? What if the music feels like oxygen or beating heart? Does that sound too dramatic? Maybe it is, but in a world where I'm great at getting it wrong sometimes I feel like music might be the only place I'll ever get it right. So this record getting sent out into the world feels awesome and terribly frightening at the same time. Awesome that I get to make something that might connect with another human being. Terrifying in that it took me ten years to get here and the thought that maybe it's just not good enough yet makes me want to break into a million tiny teary pieces. 

But I'm pretty good at pulling myself together when I need to. I just need a minute in the bathroom to splash water on my face, take a few deep breaths and get on out there with a smile. Sometimes you do it when your love doesn't seem to be able to fix the mess that is human relationships. Sometimes you do it when 'honorable mention' is what your work earns you. Be thankful. Make the most of it. Be sad, then pull yourself together and be thankful. 

And pack for Texas and pray for clarity and check stuff off your list while listening to a super sweet mix of 80s hits including "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears.

Potlucks, friends and alto saxophones

Yesterday was work, boys haircuts, making enchiladas, band parent meeting, PTA potluck and Wednesday evening Bible Study. In the short in between moments I was picking up my guitar because I'm itching to write a song. I did write one (kinda) yesterday but it super sucks. I like to think I'll write another when I get a string of minutes all in a row. I know I will.

I planted my tomatoes late this year and they're not ready yet. But I'm happy to report that they are, indeed, on the vine and I will not, no I won't, let them die. These babies are going the distance right from their little raised bed all the way to my mouth. And don't you forget it.

Mostly my garden is weeds and things that re-seed themselves like marigolds and dill and the occasional intentional plant like tomatoes, basil and peppers, purple cone flowers and some other stuff that I got on clearance and prayed would stay alive and it did.

Kinda like everything. You pray it hangs on. You pray it gets to the next bend in the road when you can tend to it- like friendships and love and bills that are unpaid. In these days I feel time ticking loudly in my ear and I'm compelled to do something about it like throw some stuff in the car, pick up my kids from school and go just like I've been saying I would for so long. Let's go see the east coast, let's go see the Grand Canyon with our own eyes. Let's be together. 

But I don't. I'm chained to calendars and bills and work just like everybody else and it would fly in the face of all I've been given to disregard it.

So I make the enchiladas and go to the potluck and I see friends I haven't seen all summer and I sit beside them and share a meal. One friend has started school, one has is fostering a child, one has a preschooler who I can't believe is old enough to be school age already. And then I go down the hall to the library for the adult Bible Study and we read Matthew and contemplate the word becoming flesh and life doesn't seem so heavy anymore. It feels light. 

I go home thankful for how rich I have been blessed and not ten minutes later my neighbor knocks on my door holding the alto saxophone that had been eluding me for days. And right then and there I repent of having looked with contempt on the gifts I have been given and pray I see the wonder more than the weight of these impermanent things. 

Flood waters are rising, people are suffering but I am not. I've been called to live in community with my brothers and sisters here and share what I have with those around me. Just like they share what they have with me. There's no time for lamenting when the sun is so high and there's so much time and the tomatoes are ripening on the vine. "'Tis good, Lord, to be here."

Home for now

I'm home for now. I'm making dinner that kids don't want to eat and trying to figure out the right size of inner tubing needed for flat bike tires that now number three. I'm going to work at the cafe, doing breakfast duty at school and watching dumb RomComs on Netflix when I get a minute to relax.

After nine days in Colorado at the Song School and Rocky Mountain Folks Fest, it's good to be back. As much as I love the Colorado air, the roll of the St. Vrain and the music nerd talk all day every day, I like being home better. 

What did I learn at Song School this year? I learned that music is an amazing world to live in every day. It's light and dark and fun and hard and full of wonder, full of the unknown and I'm glad to be doing it. You'd think I'd know all that already. But making a record can really make you forget all that stuff so I'm thankful for a week where the focus was the work, the line, the song.

I love the song. I love it. I wish it didn't feel so far away.

I know I can bring it close, but I'm chicken. Chicken I am.

Why? Because my social media numbers are low.  Because I'm nervous about the record because loving it too much is gonna hurt real bad. Because I feel lost and uprooted and I never want to write a song about being on the road. Ever. I'm chicken because now I want the work to be good and I can't always guarantee that it will be.

And then I went to the Senior center yesterday for lunch. Jon and I joined our friends and neighbors for meatloaf and apple crisp and afterward I got up and sang some songs. It had been quite a while since I'd been there and I wanted to sing some songs from the record and tell them the record is for them because it's about them. I wanted to sing the one about Lloyd and Caryl. I wanted to sing the one about getting better as you get older. So I did. And by the end I was crying. We were all crying. People in that room were friends with Caryl. People in that room were at that funeral. People in that room had just lost their friend, Louis, and life and death and missing your loved ones who have gone felt so real, so intense, that it silenced all the bullshit about being popular and getting the record out and not being pretty enough or young enough and for one blessed moment, I remembered why I made this record.

I made this record for them. I wrote these songs to figure out the hurt and loss, the joy and freedom of a life we share together. Yesterday's gig was heavy, but it was real and it was good and it was exactly what I needed and I didn't even know it.

Afterward I thought I chose the wrong songs. I should've kept it light and silly, but that wouldn't have been honest. Music is powerful and yesterday we felt its power. You all know by now that I'm a believer and yesterday it felt like God was doing the work. I was just there playing the guitar. God knew what needed to happen. I didn't. 

I'm home for now and trying to reconnect after feeling so far away. One meal at a time, one song at a time, one walk to the grocery and one walk back and waving to the people in the cars passing by. One check of the garden, one posting of a letter, one waiting on a train one lunch shift as a waiter. I'll get there. I hope you do too. Peace.

Nashville by next week

A brief update. Since the beginning of summer we've had our cousins visit from Hawaii, we've done a week of Vacation Bible School, Jon and I went on a couples retreat for a week, the boys went to Boy scout camp, church camp, cub scout camp, we chaperoned a group of 11 high schoolers on a 9 day trip to NYC (driving), and in between there have been work shifts and gigs. It's been a really busy summer. 

Today is one of the rare days when I'm home all morning. There are chores to do, but not yet. 

Right now I'm listening to the rough mix from last night's session with Darrell Scott while the house still sleeps. Sam has been up and out detasselling for over an hour and I couldn't get back to sleep. Instead, I stayed up, I put on the coffee and I'm listening to this track. 

This feels like one of those moments where I need to stop, look back down the mountain to that place far off where I started, feel the breeze, smile and look up at the sky. I should stretch my arms out wide and send up prayers of thanksgiving. It feels unreal, but it's real. 

I sing with Darrell all the time. In my car. And I sing all of them real good. Theatre of the Unheard, Family Tree, Aloha from Nashville, Crooked Road, Modern Hymns, Couchville Sessions, Long Ride Home, Invisible Man, Live in NC ("the one and only Kenny Malone"). Everybody knows he's my favorite songwriter. Everybody knows he's my favorite voice. And I've spent years driving down the road singing his songs with the windows down.

Now we're singing together for reals on one of my songs for my upcoming album. I'm listening to our voices sing together. It's bananas. It's the best kind of, "How did I get here?" bananas that I can imagine. And I'm crying and praying I remember this moment of wonder before the the clock strikes twelve. 

Earlier this week I was fielding emails and texts about my record while sweating and supervising cub scouts at camp. Now I'm home and trying to record the last couple of takes we need before going into the mixing sessions next week. 

Making a record while trying to do the rest of life at the same time has been crazy and awesome and I couldn't have done any of it without friends like Darrell, Emily White, Emily Dunbar, Lisa Smith, my husband, Jon, my long suffering kids, and so many others helping me along the way. 

Sometimes I dream of just doing music. I dream of being able to wake up and pour myself a cup of coffee and then get to work on songs. Fewer and fewer people get to do that these days. I'm grateful that in the midst of life, the songs showed up anyway and I was able to capture them in the small spaces I was given. 

All this is to say that we've all got a point far off in the distance that's calling to us. Each one of those places is unique to you and your journey. The step you take today is the step you need to get closer to that end point. That might mean going on a walk, picking up a pen, turning off the TV, going to the art supply store, tilling up a garden, getting that crazy hair cut, buying that plane ticket, or signing up to volunteer for the first time. Rome wasn't built in a day. And neither were you. Give yourself time. And give yourself a break. 

I'm beating myself up that I'm not writing anything. I love writing songs and I can't find the time or space to do anything. But beating myself up ain't gonna force the flood gates open. Instead I'm gonna delight in this amazing gift of song. This amazing World of Wonder. You're in it. You're part of it. You've got something burning in you probably. I know I do. 

When you've got a minute, be bold enough to take hold of it. Remember, getting hold it comes before getting a handle on it. Getting a handle on it comes before getting the hang of it. Getting the hang of it comes with time.

You got this. Nashville by next week is hard to believe, but that's the step I'm taking. And now I'm gonna listen to me and Darrell sing again. Over and over again. Peace.

I do what's next

This is the video I released on the second to last day of my Kickstarter campaign. It went over pretty well so I'm posting it here for your enjoyment (and mine).

It has been an interesting, inspiring, terrifying and humbling road so far. I imagine it will feel like that for some time and in varying degrees. Like so many things, when trying to advance or grow, the learning curve feels insurmountable and frustrating until you step foot upon that stone that looked so far off for so long. THEN you start all over again until you make it to the next level. That's good work, but it's hard work. I'd rather be writing songs.

But I was told that there's this hat labeled "business" that I need to put on in order to help the girl who typically wears the hat labeled "songwriter." It's true. It's totally true. So I'm trying to do it, but it's real hard for me. Here's what I tell myself as motivation:

"Hey dummy, look around you. People have been bending over backwards to try and make this album a reality. The least you can do is write some scary emails and do your share. Come on."

You probably already know I'm not great at being nice to myself in my self-talk, but I'm trying. 

So we press on. We do what's next. Even when things don't work out the way we want them to, we brush ourselves off, go back to our vision boards and we do what's next. Because getting comfortable standing in one place is never a good idea. There's always a new rock that needs looking under. There's always a book you haven't read yet, a road you haven't driven, and seeds you haven't sewn. Don't let the scary keep you from moving. Remember, motion begets motion. One move is all you need to find something you didn't even know was there.

Happy hunting. Do what's next.

Pick up the guitar

My mom and dad were in town for a few weeks for my son's confirmation and a little spring time in Nebraska. We had beautiful weather. We spent lots of afternoons sitting in the backyard sun, taking walks "around the square" and waiting for the irises to bloom. And then the irises bloomed.

Houseguests are wonderful. We loved have Grandma and Grandpa here, but lately I've been real weird about not being able to play music while people are in the house, let alone try and write something new. I've been dying to find some time to write and pick up my guitar again, but I feel like a naughty schoolgirl afraid to be caught doodling in the back row by the teacher. In my mind I'm telling myself, "You don't get to write because you have real adult work that needs to get done first." 

So it's been a while since I've written anything. 

The boys are done with school tomorrow and so begins summer break. They're calling for rain today and perhaps tomorrow as well. I think the rain might be the perfect excuse for trying out the sound of an empty house that won't be empty for long, but something's still keeping me from doing it.

Last night Star Belle got together for practice and ended up recording a song in Lisa's kitchen. Emily wrote it, I brought the microphone and, after working it out on Lisa's porch we dared set up the rig and see what we could come up with. It was glorious. Emily put down the lead vocal and guitar, we went back and tracked harmony and 15 minutes later we remembered who we were and what kind of magnificent gift we've been given. To say I was in desperate need of that magic is an understatement.

So I know it exists. I know that if I pick up the guitar and listen, something will appear and remind me of who I am. I've been living in a world of busy with precious little time and I know we've all been there. We all get to a place where we don't know where to start. We've all looked at the list of jobs and weighed it more heavily than that thing our heart is begging us to do. We've all sat between the rock and the hard place looking for a way out until suddenly the respite appears out of nowhere. It's a card from a friend, it's a little boy coming to cuddle at the end of a busy day, it's a chance meeting with someone at the grocery store, it's that perfect song on the radio while you're driving with the windows down. 

For me, it was singing with my friends on Tuesday as a storm rolled in. 

I woke up with morning somewhere in between the joy of last night's band practice and the weight of this Wednesday before school gets out. I thought I'd take a moment to voice that feeling here before going to get my guitar out of my car and dare to make something up. 

To you, I say, listen for the messages of joy and peace and freedom coming your way. They're out there, but the burden of work and life can make them hard to hear sometimes. Once you hear the message, then don't explain it away or make it small. Let it be the spark that ignites you again and then go pick up the guitar. Love, Hope

by Emily Dunbar and performed by Star Belle Ukulele Band

Resist the resistance

"Late at night have you experienced a vision of the person you might become, the work you could accomplish, the realized being you were meant to be? Are you a writer who doesn't write, a painter who doesn't paint, an entrepreneur who never starts a venture? Then you know what Resistance is....Resistance cannot be seen, touched, heard or smelled. But it can be felt. We experience it as an energy field radiating from work-in-potential. It's a repelling force. It's negative. It aims to shove us away, distract us, prevent us from doing our work." (The War of Art, Steve Pressfield, pg. 6)

You can feel it. How do I know? I feel it right now seeping out of everything. All the voices in my head, all the signs in my daily life, all the circumstances of right now seem to be urging me toward giving in to the resistance. 

Last night I went to band practice and confessed that I was on the verge of giving up, getting a "real" job and forgetting the whole thing. I've let myself get so overwhelmed at the prospect of something not working out or not getting the outcome I hope for that quitting starts to feel like a real option. We call that "resistance." 

Thankfully, I was reminded of that by my dear Emily. Thankfully when I woke up this morning I was ready to roll up my sleeves and fight back.

Have you hung up a dream? Have you not even taken one step because you don't think you can finish the marathon? Have you stopped sketching the sunset because you'll never afford the paints to do it justice? That's resistance. That's that feeling that manifests itself as the million other things you should be doing instead of the one thing you cherish deep in your heart.

I'm still scared. I'm still worried that I'm too old, too fat  and too midwestern to make a record and try and get people to listen to it, but I'm going to do it anyway. 

A long time ago I came to understand that I was the only one who could end my music career. I'm also the only one who can keep it going. If I quit now then this'll be as far as I get and I'll have to live with that being a choice I made, not a choice that was made for me. 

When I woke up this morning I resolved to keep going. No one said I had to get to Nashville, I just have to get a little further down the road than I am right now. So I'll resist the urge to cave into the resistance, I'll work through the fear and take that next step down the road. I hope you feel strong enough to do the same. 

My three sons

My oldest is fourteen. He's known for his height and his hair, his voice and his love of classic rock. His knowledge of deep tracks goes way beyond mine. It's sounds weird to say we've had a hard relationship, but it's true. Maybe we're too similar. Maybe I'm crazy, but it's never been easy between us even when he was two it wasn't easy.

Sunday afternoon he and I made a last minute dash out to Lincoln in search of the dress shoes he needs for tomorrow's class play. And it was gold. My brain tends to forget the good stuff and so I'm desperately trying to hang onto our afternoon in Lincoln in late April 2017. We talked, he told me about what he's excited about for high school, what he's looking forward to this summer. We talked about the kind of singing I did when I was his age. After striking out in two shops, we boldly charged into a shop that had already closed and asked if they had size 15 shoes. They did and we left the shop like champions. We ate out and we drove home and he told me he had had a nice time. He put his arm around my shoulders. It was a great day.

My middlest is eleven. In my mind he's still eight or littler. He has big eyes and a big imagination. He needs lots of alone time and he loves to read. On Sunday afternoon he crossed over from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts and it hit me that he's grown up while we were all running in different directions and trying to get dinner on the table. This summer he'll go off to Boy Scout camp with the other boys and he'll start sixth grade in the fall. He loves a nice cup of tea and a cozy blanket. My husband and I have talked about how he likes comfort more than growth and this summer he should be challenged more than he has been. He's a middle child like I am so I have a soft spot for his quirkiness and his rebellion, but it's time for him to level up. We gotta help him do it.

My youngest is real responsible, loves turning in his homework, getting ahead on his memory work, playing basketball, football and hanging out with his friends. He'll tell you he's not that into music or reading. He's into doing stuff. He feels things deeply but hides it all behind a thick skin most of the time. He'll be ten on Sunday. He's my songwriter baby. He was napping as an infant when I wrote my first song and so I mark my songwriting journey by how old he is. Next year will be his last in Cub Scouts and then that's it for the Dunbars. We move on to bigger kid stuff. Next year he'll be in the middle school wing of his school and not the lower elementary wing and that'll be it for the Dunbars in lower elementary.

I've taken the oldest with me three times to Germany. The middle boy has gone twice- the first time when he was six weeks old. Once my friend and I drove from Indiana to New York City with five kids under the age of 6 for a mommy's road trip to NYC. We did it. I can't believe we did it. Am I proud of my drug-free labors and deliveries? Kinda. But I am INSANELY proud of Lindsey and I for driving out to NYC with our small children.  

This summer we're driving out to NYC but this time with the senior high youth group. My oldest son will be in the group.

I get a little teary eyed reflecting on how quickly the time has passed. I see mamas holding babies at the back of the church and it feels like I was just there not too long ago doing the same thing. But then the other day while I was waiting tables, a family came in for lunch. It was a mother, father and their three grown sons- all in their twenties. And as I was pouring their teas and lemonades I caught a bit of their talking and laughing with their parents. It was a picture of five people knit together in love and sharing a meal after working all morning to get ready for a family auction. The boys were teasing their dad and being kind to their mom and cracking jokes with each other and it was a scene that made me smile and be glad. 

For all that's come and gone, there's still so much more to come and I'm thankful for all of it.

The hard ones

There are the easy gigs and there are the hard ones. The easy ones are when the rules of engagement are established and understood. The audience comes ready to hear the stories and I come ready to sing them and we have a conversation together over beers and wines or teas and coffees.

The hard ones are when the rules of engagement aren't agreed upon by both parties. This can be illustrated by a room where I'm telling the stories and no one is listening. I'm the background music to the frat party that happens to be taking place just feet from the stage. 

Now don't get me wrong. I don't mind being background music as long as you tell me ahead of time that that's the gig. 

Last night was a hard one. And it was a wake up call telling me I haven't had a hard one in a while. I don't fault anyone in that room last night talking with their buddies while I was singing songs. Hell, we're all entitled to a Saturday night where we have some fun. But man, it was a test of my cool, my focus and whether or not I was capable of steering a ship gone off course. 

For the record, I played a great set to the six people who were listening in the corner. Thank you, Six People. For the record, I wanted to cry when I got done so I went outside to pull myself together. 

While I was outside a young man who was one of the six listeners came up to me and told me how much he liked the set. Not only that he told me how much he was impressed by my stage presence. He said he's seen performers in that situation play one song, tell the audience to "F- off" and walk off the stage. And then what I told him was something I needed to hear myself. 

I told him that we, at the the bottom of the barrel, don't have the luxury of only playing the good ones. If we're hungry (and broke) then we try to play the best show of our lives every time we're up there no matter what's happening around us. We try to honor the listeners and be grateful for the chance to  be heard. 

Not everybody gets a chance to tell their story. Not everyone gets the gig. My take away is that maybe I need more hard ones to remind myself what the job is and what the privilege of playing the good ones feels like. It's hard to keep it together during the hard ones. But if you're hungry enough you say, "Thank you sir, may I have another?"