Since my little Otto died, I haven't written much music. It's like the wind got kicked out of me and it's tough to be in the vulnerable space that was so tender for writing. I'd feel guilty about it accept that there is no energy for that. Just surviving was good enough .
I was lucky to have Crepusculo to release and a project to focus on, cities to travel to, shows to play to get through the craziness of grief at that time. And my blogs and twitters and emails gave me things to focus on outside such pain. But they haven't told the whole picture. And now Luna is here. And I'm getting some legs under me, and I can be more honest.
And my heart is still so tender. So easy to cry when I hear the news about the war or pesticides that cause birth defects, or when I think back to the time Otto was here, and I realize now that this is my time to BE and heal. To watch butterflies in the garden, to play with books, to take in a big, gummy baby smile. To watch and feel music unfold in life. I think I'm baking, and I can't take out the new creations until they're ready to be taken out.
I love music, how a beat vibrates and moves me, how strings draw out my heart, how a good lyric can change my day, and it's nice to appreciate all the amazing work out there without just comparing myself to it, or wishing I'd written it. Just let myself be affected by it.
I hope for the music that comes in the near future to be free from needing to accomplish so much. Life really is short. I want to love it. I want my music to reflect that - the darkness and shadow of it, the light and joy of it. I'm a little intimidated to write when I have been through so much; how can I encapsulate that? I never know what is going to come out, and I suppose I just need to allow it, not plan what it should sound like. That never works anyway.
Thanks for being here for the walk of grief and joy and everything in between. Here we go.