A Private Songwriter’s Journey

I am on a journey of sound. 
 
I mentioned this a while back, back in December when I mentioned that I was in the Anima, Ritual Theater of the Feminine Underground performance and thought I was in my daughter’s dance piece when actually it was a sound piece and I don’t make sound.
 
Well I do, but there are moments where sound isn’t safe and my voice isn’t clear. 
 
And right around this same time that this whole Anima thing was unfolding I was invited to attend a workshop put on by a friend in town. And the portion I attended was the Brother’s Koren, two amazing and light-generating and beautiful souls who create music and offer a workshop process immersion program into making music and writing lyrics and creating song which is really a camouflage for growth and healing and delving into the shadows where, for me, this sound sits in silence.
 
And I signed up.
 
I’ve been in this now for four months, with four or five more months to go, that ends with recording one to three to five (it might be six because I don’t like odd numbers) songs. I am writing an album.  Holy fuck.
 
I’m in the lyrics portion now.
 
This flows for me. Poetry to music.
 
I used to write poetry all the time.  Like that was more my thing than the prose and thought reflections that is this blog writing process that I have here now.
 
I wrote poetry since I was pretty little.  
 
I remember writing something when my grandpa died. I believe I was in 6th grade. He was my mom’s dad and he died and I wrote something that I knew at the time wasn’t great. Even thinking about it, I feel a little embarrassed.  I knew it wasn’t great because I didn’t really feel anything and felt this pressure that I was supposed to.
 
And so, I wrote this poem that started “He was my grandpa, I loved him so. I loved him more than the mountains…”.  This is 52 years ago and I still remember these first lines and still feel uncomfortable because they weren’t true.
 
I mean, well I loved him. In the way that I loved all my grandparents at the time. Not a mindful way where words come out because they can’t be contained.  And so writing this piece, I just didn’t feel the words that I put out there on paper.
 
I remember we got to the place where the service was and my dad’s dad was there and my older sister, she who really knew she loved this grandfather that had died, she ran to the other one. My dad’s dad.  And so I did, too.  Because what else was I supposed to do.
 
And I wrote the poem.  That wasn’t true in that true way.
 
But after that, most of my poems were true.  And over the years became honest capturings of what I was feeling as true in those moments.
 
I also wrote a ton of stream of conscious type poems for my husband over the years.  He loved (loves) them.  I don’t do this anymore.   Except…
 
One of my songs that I am writing for my Songwriter’s Journey is called “Old Money, New England.”  This one is for him 🤍
 
That’s it for now.  Stay tuned. Music is coming.

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