from the inside out...

Invitations 

I've been radio silent for awhile, and I'm sorry I've been "away," but we've had a lot going on. Summer is a beautiful time where we live, and I look forward to summer all year long. I love the heat, and the sunshine, and flowers, and the breeze, and the water, and our boat. I have many things to be grateful for in the summer, and certainly more time to reflect on the things for which to be grateful. I am not working this summer as I have in past summers and I had all these glorious plans for what I was going to do with my time. Ha! Jokes on me for that one. I have instead been with family. I have only played a couple of shows during the summer and although I really do miss it, I realize that my summer has gone exactly as it should. I was invited to sit down, and rest, and be present.

Invitations are funny things...we often get invited to events, and I think for the most part, unless its for work, we all look forward to those invitations. But what about the invitation to sit still? Our vacation just ended, as my husband went back to work today, and we had grand plans for our vacation as well. The list we inevitably make for things to do to fill our time and our vacation ended up being a staycation. It rained for the first six days. I'm not even kidding. We were frustrated for the first bit, and then decided to just settle into it. We napped. We played board games until midnight. We sat in the rain. We danced in the rain (don't worry, video is forthcoming on this one...you won't want to miss it), and we were together. And you know what? We had a great time. We watched Jaws 1 and 2...couldn't make it all the way through Jaws 3, but don't fault me for that one please. We ate a ton of food. We breathed for the first time in a long time. We were entirely grateful when the sun colored the sky again, and I was grateful when the air lightened up a little so my hair wasn't one big frizzy mess (c'mon, you know exactly what I mean for this one too...).

We were invited, only our invitation was to sit still.  Our invitation was to be together, because at the end of the day, that's really all that matters. Is that you're surrounded with the people you love, who love you. And that you love them well. We found so much to be grateful for, and for that, I can't complain. 

To love where you are, and who you are with, is what life is about. So I invite you to live your life, your best life, with a full and open heart for all that is coming your way. Find the joy in the small things. And if you need me, I'll be dancing in the rain. 

 

x,

j

Inhibitions... 

So we are in the middle of a crazy time right now with my daughter's dance recital coming up. But in all these hours I sit watching these young girls dance, I found myself watching just how free they are. They are young, and a tad bit nervous to forget their steps, but overwhelmingly the majority of them are so carefree. They move their bodies in this amazing way that paints the air and makes it swirl around them. And I find myself wondering, when am I that free? Am I ever that free? 

I'm not sure there are many places in my adult life, or even in my childhood that I wasn't concerned with what people thought of me, or if I was doing the right thing, or just totally able to be myself. I mean, its scary to let the world see you, to really see you. In the last few years, however, I have realized that I am most myself when writing music. Its such a natural extension of my thought process, and what madness is already happening in my head, and I can't imagine not having that outlet. And I wonder, how many of you feel carefree in your daily lives? Do you feel free at work to be yourself? Are you in love with your jobs? Or is it drudgery? Do you come home to a spouse or partner who lets you just be you in all your weird, odd ways? Do you have that one friend who you can sing Hero with at the top of your lungs? (Don't tell me that you don't know every word to that song, cause I know you're lying...)

I just wonder...when are you free to be you? Twirling through life, enjoying the breeze on your face as you turn? I am free with my kids, and when I teach, and when I write. It took me a long time to be free when I sing. Its hard to be a performer...bc you're constantly worried about what people think, if you're forgettable, if you're in tune, is this the right note, what's the next verse, etc. But I can say, when I'm not hired to be a karaoke machine, I am free. I think people enjoy my music the most when I've written something that I love to sing. I think that energy shows up in my voice, and its contagious. One of my favorite people in this world carries that energy with her all the time, and when she sings, she lights up the room. I aspire to that sort of energy. Because I know she is free when she sings. I am a work in progress. My feeling free to just be me, and not be sorry for my imperfections is also a work in progress. I'm not perfect, and knowing that makes me afraid, especially as a performer. But, can I just tell you that up front? Can I just be honest, that I'm probably going to mess up every now and again, and forget a word, or a whole verse, or sing a wrong note, or whatever. Can I just let myself off the hook now so that when I sing for you, you know I'm singing because I just love to write and perform? And if I let myself off the hook, that means I'll let you off the hook too, as long as you'll admit that you're not perfect either. That you're a work in progress, and that you're aspiring to be a freer, better version of yourself also. Cause man, if we all have to pretend to be perfect, we're never actually going to get to know the most real versions of each other, and I'll tell you what, I don't want any part in that, and I don't think you want that either.

So, here's to tomorrow...may you find yourself just a bit more, and heck, even find yourself dancing a bit throughout the day. Go ahead, try it, you know you want to. If you upload a video of you twirling through your day, make sure to tag me and use hashtags on IG #thisisjoy, #beautybeckons, and #twirlingfree so we can keep tabs on each other being real. I suppose this is a bit like, stop and smell the roses, but instead, I want you to stop, and enjoy who you are, from your eyebrows to your toes, because you are so worth enjoying. Don't worry, I'll upload my own video, I promise. 

Goodnight my friends. 

x,

j

Count on Me  

Count on me. That sounds nice, doesn't it? Like, "Hey, count on me, I've got this." Rest easy. Breathe. Just be. I'll do all the work for you. If only. If only that's the way things worked. But can we just all say out loud that counting on OTHER people is HARD WORK? Can we just all admit that we have this bone in our bodies that makes us all just want to do it ourselves? But listen, I want someone to move the world for me. I WANT someone to go to the ends of the earth for me. My husband has lapped the world several times and continues to lap it for me. I would hope he would say the same about me. I try to lap the world for my kids. I really do. Not that I want to give them everything in terms of stuff. But I want to give them EVERYTHING in terms of love, and trust, and security, and truth, and peace of mind. 

Peace of mind. That's another funny one. What actually gives you peace? Have you thought about it? When your head hits the pillow at night what makes it so you can rest easy? I know for a lot of us who are just too darn busy, sleep, regardless of exhaustion, is hard to come by. Its probably different for everyone, but maybe, just maybe, the relationships in your life are key to your peace of mind. I'm not saying you need to get married to have peace of mind. In fact, lots of us married folk would readily admit that marriage is a ton of work to really get to the place where you have peace of mind and can actually rely on the other person the way you probably thought you should when you got married. I'm just saying, maybe there's a friend or a sibling or a co-worker that you can open up and bare your soul to that can help you carry your load. Not that as adults we can't actually handle what life gives us, but man, it sure is nice to have someone to share it with. 

I often get lonely. I tell my husband often that loneliness comes in waves. I used to have a ton of girlfriends that I'd share my soul with. That list of friends has shrunk over the years and I have days when I miss the phone calls (yup, I do actually miss talking on the phone!) with someone, sharing life. Its no offense to my husband, which he understands, its just different. But let me tell you what, I MISS having friends to love. I miss buying birthday presents and eating cake and going shopping and all those girly things I used to do ALL the time with my friends. Part of my problem is that as a creative type, in order to be creative, I have to be alone. I can't write a song with a bunch of noise in the next room. I just can't. I have to be alone with my thoughts to figure out lyrics, and to process emotions to see how they translate to song. I write my melodies, progressions, and stories alone. That's part of the deal for me. But over the years, that need to be alone to become who I am meant to be creatively has led to a decrease in time, that coupled with life in general, and so finding time to be with those friends is harder to come by. Please don't misunderstand what I am saying in that I am blaming anyone. Of course I'm not. What I am saying is that its a tricky balance. And I miss having friends with open schedules and lives to share life with. Do you ever feel that?

So, this song, count on me, is about me wanting to share life. With you. I always tell my husband, we don't get to choose what happens to us, but we get to choose how it goes after the fact. We get a say in how we respond and how we make the next move. I somehow get the privilege of being a creator of music in this life, and I feel like these stories are important enough that I take the time to record them and send them out into the world, unknowing of how the world will receive them, and even if just one of you resonates with what I'm saying, or have been through, then somehow its all worth it to me. Totally, incredibly worth the journey.

Sadly, this brings me to the end of the stories of the songs on this project, and I can't thank you enough for sticking around. I so appreciate anyone who is reading this, and don't worry, this won't be the end...You can count on me, cause I'll move the world for you. 

 

Let the pen hit the page
escape the break of day
oh clear the air as the body waits

And though the fear is real
the longing for your love
and the current of being in your arms

Count on Me I'll move the world for you (4x)

Find a way to change the path
but the arrow's been pulled
released, direction moving on

eyes forward, ever strong
Oh I keep pushing on
for all the things that can be made right

Count on Me, I'll move the world for you (4x)

If you stay....

Count on me I'll move the world for you...

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  1. Count on Me

When the Watchman Sleeps... in Syria and at home...  

In this wake of what happened this week, I feel like this song is so timely. When the Watchman Sleeps was written after seeing an image of a boy in Syria covered in ash and blood (here's the link, but I won't show the image here as I don't own the rights to this. Syrian Boy)The news these days is just as heartbreaking and I find myself cringing often at the revelation of what we will do to each other. 

This song is the story of a people (insert any number of nationalities here) who trust those in power to protect them. Trust implicitly that those they elected will stand watch over wrongdoers. This is a story about those in power lying about what they are doing and how they are doing it. Its mostly about the loss of life. The loss of innocent lives in a battle far bigger than what our eyes can see. And sending those lives to slaughter willingly, like pawns in a game of chess. 

This song is also about me recognizing the ways that I sleep through what happens around me. The ways that I am silent. And the things that really urge me to speak up and act. I am guilty of being silent for far too long about the things that matter most. Its my hope that this song challenges you to see, to stand guard, and to not sleep while life passes by and is costing some people all they have. 

This story is far from over, but for now, I urge you to listen...and wake up. 

until next time,

j

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  1. When the Watchman Sleeps

Oh My Heart...  

Do you ever talk to yourself? Of course you do, you might just not want to admit to it. I absolutely know that I'm not the only one. And I sort of get a free pass because I'm one of those creative types, you know, "I'm just working out lyrics, or ideas, out loud. Its just part of the process." Well, I'm not ashamed that I talk to myself because sometimes me and I have really great conversations. (Its okay, go ahead and laugh. But just try it out, you might enjoy it.) This song was the last one written for this project, and was only about a week old when we recorded it. But I just felt that this thread of conversation was missing from the project, and was wholeheartedly needed. 

I often feel like the external world is exhausting. Some of that comes from the fact that I am by nature an introvert until I'm in my world of fellow creators, and then I am a total extrovert. The outside world is always moving, and always hurrying, and always telling us that we're not enough, that anyone who can't keep up will be left behind. And I think in every way this is so very wrong. Our world pushes us to do things before we're ready; everything from going to school, to reading, to writing, to loving, to growing up, to being perfect, to making decisions about our jobs and lives in front of us before we're 18 years old, and then urging us to never stop moving, even when our lives are falling apart in our hands. And let's not talk about grief or loss. Have you ever grieved? Have you ever lost anything so precious that it stops you dead in your tracks and you're not ever sure that you'll stand up again? Well, in several ways, I have. I remember one especially dark day when I was trying to keep going, keep moving, keep pushing, and I was in front of the dryer folding laundry when the grief hit like a wave that took me to the ground. I don't remember how long I laid on the floor that day. But it was that day that I promised myself, I wouldn't just keep going. I wouldn't just keep pretending. I would listen. Not to anyone else, but to me. 

They say that pain is an indicator of a greater problem. And in so many ways that's very true. We, especially in our western world, run from pain. We do all we can to not face it, especially emotional pain. And I have to say it is not easy to face it. Its so much easier to ignore, until it just can't be anymore. This song was written for me, to me, by me. A love song to my heart. My heart is no stranger to receiving pain, nor to causing pain. I will tell you that the day I promised to listen to myself, to my body, to my heart, the weight of my pain was not as heavy. I promised to wait for my heart to heal, not to rush it, not to push it, not to force it. Rather, to encourage and admonish it to be made whole again. The verse from Proverbs now rings so true: "Watch over your heart with all diligence, For from it flow the springs of life." Wait, what? Everything you do flows from your heart? You mean its that important? Without question. 
 

So, this song is for me, to me, by me. 

 

 

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  1. Oh My Heart

Dust of the Road and Coffee, too.   

Track 9: This one is for my Grandmother, Jeanne. She was literally everything I could have hoped to be. Never uttered an unkind word about anyone. Had faith that moved mountains. Had an unending love for my grandfather. Had a fierce love for her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Loved God in a quiet but certain way. Stood her ground when she needed to. She always joked that she was never the grandma that baked cookies or anything. But she always had coffee. That might actually be my first memory of being at her house. All of us gathered around her very small kitchen table, but somehow we always had room, with an endless supply of coffee. We are of Danish descent, and I was always assured that was the reason for the goodies always present with the coffee.  My first cup of coffee was offered when I was little. Maybe not even in school yet. But it was always mixed by my aunt who gave me more milk and sugar than coffee, but nevertheless, there it was. As I got older, the coffee formula changed until I was drinking the same as my mom and my aunt--extra cream and just a tiiiiny bit of sugar. (Mostly because Grandma liked her coffee dark, and sort of thick, or well...strong). She knew the minute I was pregnant because I couldn't stand even the smell of coffee and never uttered a word until I felt far enough along to tell everyone we were expecting Jenna. It was only my first pregnancy that I couldn't stand the smell of it, but I went without it for both pregnancies, and she always very kindly offered me tea instead. 

After my Grandfather died, (I'll tell you stories about him sometime soon, I promise,) my Grandmother didn't spend one night alone for the eleven years she lived past him. We all took turns staying with her, and those nights are some of my fondest memories. It was my great pleasure to wake just before her and put the coffee on so that the house filled with that familiar fragrance the beckoned the start of our day. Our conversations over that coffee are some of my most treasured memories. It was then I learned of her adventures with her friends taking 40 mile bike rides and train rides, and renting a cottage on Keuka Lake with her girlfriends before she was married. She was an adventuresome girl who had lived through the death of two siblings (one very young, and one almost 18 years of age) and could still smile and laugh. She outlived her parents, whom I never met, but always spoke so highly of. (They both came over to America from Denmark and my great-grandfather even survived a shipwreck on the way!). I like to think I get a bit of my nomadic personality from them. My grandmother literally had to walk up hill to school both ways because of where she lived, I know, we always just thought it was a joke, but alas, for her, it really happened. There is a road in our town named after her family's farm, and that is where her family was shielded from many of the effects of the Depression...often taking in and feeding those with far less than what they had. She never had much, but she was always willing to share. 

Life was not easy for her. She had polio, and was in quarantine for an entire summer, away from her two very young children at the time. She went on to have four more kids after learning how to walk again, though polio took a great deal from her. She never drove. She was always quite dependent on my grandfather for pretty much everything. He loved her well, and in turn, she loved him. His last words to me were, "Take care of Momma." She was literally the last thing on his mind before he left this earth. And he was hers. As the end neared for her, I recall her talking about him, even if in her sleep. She often dreamt about him. That love was no small miracle. But year after year, nearly 57 if I recall, years of choosing to take care of each other. She worked hard with both her hands and her heart. 

This song is so much more than just that. Its my best attempt to date of trying to convey the immense gratitude and love that I had, and still have, for this woman whom I was privileged enough to call Grandma. I saved every note she every wrote me because her writing was impeccable. She used to design advertisements for the local paper as a job. Every beautiful font and design was hand drawn. This impeccable eye for fashion and detail. She always looked stunning, without being overdone. I believe my mom called her a fashion plate. I really can't say enough about her. But at the end of the day, when I think about what to say, I say this, "She loved me. And I, her." 

"...She was tied like the strings on her favorite guitar, worn and frayed, as she played the sweetest of songs, Tried and true, overdue to come home...Oh the dirt on her feet, and the dust of the road. The dirt on her feet, and the dust of the road..."

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  1. Dust of the Road

Anyway...  

This is a song about love and mostly about forgiveness. If you think love is hard, then you know forgiveness is even harder. Forgiveness, for many, is a flippant decision that dismisses both parties from things that happened before. But in love, and in marriage, forgiveness is so much more than that. It offers freedom. Yes, from mistakes, but from the weight of decision, or even indecision. This is a song I wrote on my back porch staring out into my yard with the green trees blowing in the warm summer breeze when the world just felt right. It is mostly a conversation to myself. About love. About what I really think about it. And what I do with it. Its about being honest about being terrified to love and terrified to offer love, and even more terrified to receive the love being offered. I love the way this song musically loops around and around from one verse into a chorus and back into a verse without really finding a musical answer. To me the music emulates the lyrics in every way. I don't feel like this song needs much explanation, and so I'll keep it short, and let you spend sometime with the song, and yourself. 

So, I offer you, Anyway. May you find the strength to forgive, and love deeply and richly. 

Until next time, 

I'm Yours.

j

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  1. Anyway

Next to You  

Okay, so I'm behind the eight ball on this one. I'm late, but you know, sometimes its just really hard to catch your breath. And this week has been exactly that, so I really hope that you're all still with me at this point in the album. This is track 6, so we're only just over halfway through the stories behind these songs, but this one is special. Its a long one, so stick with me, cause the song is not much without the story. 

This is a song ultimately about a single day in New York City that I spent with my advisor from my grad school program, Diane, and this incredible adventure we shared. So in my grad program, we had to try to have a face to face meeting with our advisors at least once a semester, which was perfect because Diane lives not far outside NYC, and so we planned that I would come to her house and we'd have a composition lesson first thing in the morning, and then find some cool things to do for the rest of the day. There happened to be a concert happening in Central Park that day called "Jazz and Colors" and it consisted of a ton of bands playing the same exact set list. So you'd walk up to a three piece trio playing "So What" and walk farther to stumble upon a 12 piece Latin Band playing the same thing. It was this really incredible experience. We were there for about an hour and a half and only heard six of the bands. The colors in Central Park that day were breathtaking, and I'll include them with this post. ( My first memories of Central Park as a child was the Simon and Garfunkel concert I watched on PBS in the mid 80s. I just knew it had this energy that I couldn't explain. The kodachrome reference in this song is a nod to that.) 

Diane and I left Central Park and went to a student recital at the New School in the afternoon (which was also amazing), and then grabbed lunch around the corner at French Roast. We shared a conversation in which she shared her life and heart with me, about music, love, life, health, sickness, and hope. I drank my weight in coffee (it was still regular back in late 2013, btw) as she talked and I just remember the gratefulness she expressed for so many things in her life, and wanted to make a point to not forget that, or how much her influence shaped me, both musically, and personally. That's what the third verse in this song is about. Its about Diane. Her fire for life and for making music and helping those around her grow to be better versions of themselves. Her influence has made me want to be a better teacher, friend, listener, compassionate human, and so much more. 

But the day didn't end there. If you've ever heard me talk about my favorite artist before, then you've definitely heard this story too. Sandra McCracken just happened to be playing that weekend in New York. At this little bistro called Milk and Roses in Brooklyn. She is based out of Nashville and rarely comes to the east coast. I mean, rarely. So I got THE LAST TWO TICKETS for her show and Diane and I started the trek over the Williamsburg Bridge to find our spot. We walk in and I got a table about three feet away from the piano, and there are candles lit everywhere and a small crowd starting to show. Diane and I are chatting but I was so excited for the concert to start. Sandra does a sound check and walks past me and says "Hello, thanks for coming. Gosh, you look familiar." I go on to tell her we had met before and I was a huge fan and was thrilled to see her in concert again. She politely excuses herself to get ready for the show and says she looks forward to chatting more after. The concert starts. I know every word to every song. I want to sing along the way I do in my car, but its a small venue and don't want to upset the people around me. So the show ends and we chat. I show her the picture of her and I that was taken in the year 2000 that I keep on my dream board and she remembers that night. We talk for a long time and I tell her that I had this dream (literally, my dreams are vivid, but I think I mentioned that in a previous post) that she and I sang together. (Actually, I had that dream two weeks before this day in NYC, before I even knew that she was performing in NYC, and its documented on my fb page, in case you're a doubting Thomas). So she says she needs to speak to someone else, but she'd be back in five minutes, and she'd get her guitar, and we would sing together. ARE YOU SERIOUS?! Yup. So I tell Diane and she freaks out with me. It was up to me to pick a song for us to sing, and though I knew EVERY WORD of all of her songs before this, my nerves made me forget what my name was. So I pulled out my phone and googled her songs. Yup, I did. She didn't perform a song called "Sweet Amelia" off her new record during her set that night, and it had great harmonies,  so that's the one we sang. Together. Diane was gracious enough to record it, and I'll cherish that video probably for forever. I remember that day so fondly, just a whirlwind of emotion, and music, and friendship. It took me almost four years to write a song about that day. I tried draft after draft of lyrics, and nothing felt right. I needed a way to weave it all together, and I just kept remembering the saying that New York is the city that never sleeps. I know lots of people don't love the busyness of a city, but I find the energy invigorating. I just thought New York City and I got along quite fine together, and maybe it just needed be to be there for it to take a breath. I am not lying when I say that day was magical, and I know that I had the hardest time sleeping that night, and for a few following. "And they say you don't sleep, but I'm not sure that's true, cause maybe its you wait to sleep until I'm next to you." Its less an ego thing, thinking I'm the answer to New York's insomnia, but more a completion thing. Like maybe it can't sleep because it has more magic to give. To me, to you. To someone who hasn't gone looking for it yet, and it doesn't want to miss a chance to provide it. But that it can rest for a moment, because I was given the magic. I don't know, maybe that's letting you too far into the dark recesses of my brain...

So, if you've made it this far, thank you for staying with me! I know this song has a different vibe than a lot of songs on this project, but if this day hadn't happened, I probably wouldn't have this record out at all, so it was a very powerful force in my story and was a story I needed to tell. I wanted to demarcate that day for myself, to remind myself again that miracles happen, dreams can come true, that real friendship exists, and that magic is out there waiting to be found. So, go. Find some magic. Today. Tomorrow. Be magic. And remember that I find myself immensely grateful to take part in the magic and mystery that is music. 

Until next time,

j

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  1. Next to You

Coffee in Paris...  

I've never been to Paris. And if you've ever been to one of my shows, you already know that. I've never been there, but I miss it. Like somehow my soul belongs there, and I can't explain it. (That's what the song "Runaway" was about from my second album "Morning Light"...go download it if you haven't heard that yet!). I suppose there's something really ethereal in my vision of Paris. Its of course timeless in the way its survived war and rulers and all of that, but everything you read about Paris suggests that there's a spirit of life underneath it all that keeps it running. Constantly pushing forward. And I suppose its that drive to create and breathe life that makes me love it without ever seeing it.  I will get to Paris someday. I'm hoping before I turn 40, honestly, because there really are some vivid images that I can see and taste, and I just want to experience them. 
Okay, yes, the song, I promise I'm getting there. So with all that about Paris being said, I also have vivid dreams. And when I say vivid, I mean, I often have a hard time discerning the dream from reality. There are only about two other dreams I've had in my life, maybe three, that have been as sharp as my dreams of Paris. 
This song is about one of those dreams. Its hard to deliver the experience of a dream well, and writing this song was no different. And if you know me at all, you know I second guess everything I do (as most artists and creators tend to do, am I right?). This song, though, just felt right. I wanted to use a line in repetition that could mean something different each time. "Its the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God." I just sort of took that and ran. This song is a story, about a dream, about a place, about frosted lights, and my frozen breath, about a hotel, and a courtyard, and a fountain, and the cold, crisp air, and yes, about drinking coffee. A bowl of coffee (does it ruin the story if I mention it's decaf for me?), in a cafe, in a place that has called to me as long as I can remember. So, join me in Paris, at least for a minute or two, and find yourself. As Sabrina Fairchild said, "Oh, but Paris isn't for changing planes, it's...it's for changing your outlook...." And then this, "Gertrude Stine said America is my country and Paris is my hometown, I'll always feel that way about Paris I want so much for you to know what it's meant to me. I cross the street someone is playing La Vie En Rose. They do it for the tourists but I'm always suprised at how it moves me. It means seeing life through rose colored glasses. Only in Paris where the light is pink does that song make sense, but I'll have it in my pocket when I get home, and carry it with me where ever I go..."

So, until next time, I'll be in Paris, with coffee. 

x, 
j

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  1. Coffee in Paris

Humming 

There's a simplicity to this tune that really makes my heart happy. Humming is track 4 on Water Meets the Shore, and is for sure one of my favorites due to its simplicity. The guitar part is busy but never in the way. Its that gentle lull of a heartbeat, like the opening line, "My heart is humming and it won't slow down..." Politically, our nation is divided. I think that is more true today than a year or so ago when I wrote this tune. This is a song about me trying to explain the world to my (then seven year old) without sugar coating it, but feeling completely incompetent. There are so many situations that we try to shield from our kids. I absolutely believe so many times its for their own good, but every now and then I think we owe them the whole truth. And when it comes to what is happening in our country, I think we owe our kids that much. So this song is me fighting the inner battle of wanting to do something to help, and not knowing how or when, but trusting that words will come. And more specifically, the right words. Perhaps you feel the same as I do, and just don't know where to start. All I know is, "start it small..." because one step after another eventually leads to a lifetime of steps. 

j

My heart is humming and it won't slow down
The constant running I just can't get out
To change the world it only takes one day
But I am fickle and can't find my way, find my way.

 

The world is racing all around the sun
Like its pacing just to say its won
And somehow its that I can't keep up
But no matter I'll just fill my cup, fill my cup.

 

And one day I'll be enough more than words can say
Rushing in to break the sound, like water has its way.

 

A gentle tugging from my young, young boy
Here to tell me not to be so coy.
And when its hard to look him in the eye
I promised him I wouldn't tell a lie, tell a lie. 

 

And one day I'll be enough more than words can say 
Rushing in to break the sound, like water has its way.

 

Start it small the days grow long and days turn into years. 
Push aside the disconnect, the days outnumber fears. 

 

And one day I'll be enough more than words can say  
Rushing in to break the sound, like water has its way.