Here it is again, the time when we reflect on the year that's passed, maybe on our whole past, and have hope for the new year. I’m remembering the moment years ago when I realized how angry I was that I couldn’t control time. I felt it should be my right. Not exactly a mature perspective. And if I could control time, I would most certainly end up losing many of the developments it brings. When things feel perfect though—
I'm one of those people who has a great need to feel like I belong. "Who doesn't?" would be a logical response. With tribalism, gang culture and assorted other group phenomena getting a lot of attention in the last few years, there's been a lot of focus on just how essential this is to human beings. I know, tell that to Ted Kaczynski or J.D. Salinger or Garbo. (Hmmmm...all dead or incarcerated.
I'm one of those people who has trouble getting out of her comfort zone. It must not appear that way though because I get called "brave" a lot. I'm not sure what people are perceiving when they say that. I always thought of myself as playing it safe. I had a regular job for quite a long time—although I came to New York City to do it—before going full time into music.
Among my observations of myself is this: I have have a capacity for both incredible persistence and quick surrender. I would not expect these things to co-exist in a person. Shouldn't they at least cancel each other out? But perhaps that's just simple math and doesn't apply to people. I started a book project years ago (more than I want to admit at this moment). I thought it was a great idea. An author/poet friend who I respect tremendously told me she could see it on the best seller list. I agreed.
As T. S. Eliot once said, the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time. It’s now August 2018. I’m savoring a short vacation, sitting at the southern tip of Lake Michigan. “Lake Michigan.” It sounds like a poem to me now.
I was living in my dream home: a studio apartment at 24 Cornelia Street, the heart of Greenwich Village. Moving here from small-town Michigan, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Smack dab in the middle of the universe, according to me. Visions of Ruth McKenney’s “My Sister Eileen” romped through my brain.
Is it fall yet? Well, it’s trying. I sometimes prefer the word “autumn”. It reminds me of old songs. And then there’s “autumnal”. What a great word. Go ahead, say it out loud. I’ll wait.… There, doesn't it feel good?
That sums it up for me. My credo. Whether we’re talking about disturbing interpersonal dynamics, international terrorism, or political mayhem, there’s nothing like creating something new. It really does validate your existence: “Here I am. Look what I just created. You can’t stop me.”
I just love a new season, and fall is my fave. And with this new season, I have a new website, new music! No new back-to-school clothes yet, but there’s time. It’s also the beginning of what I intend to be a long and fruitful Beulah season, not tied to any calendar anywhere.