I thought I would comfort my mother by suggesting she come up the evening before her appointment so that she could rest. Otherwise she would have to leave her home at 5:30am, drive a long distance, spend all day with paperwork and consultations and lots of waiting. Then drive back again.

My mother said thank you very much, but this and that and the other. Horses must be watered, dogs must be walked. And I pointed out that someone else could do these things. She does not feel that other people are reliable. She is not a delegator. I pushed...I told her that the horses would be without water for very little time if they were without water at all and she pushed back in the very Southern way, saying that if I didn't mind she would rather drive up on the morning of her appointments.

I was very disappointed. I thought of a thousand reasons that she was wrong. I thought that she needed to learn to share the load. I thought that she had other reasons that she wasn't able to face up to...But none of those thoughts matter. They have no basis in reality and they are a kind of "grasping at straws with the mind."
My mother is an adult and able to make her own choices. My questioning her choices is simply a judgement of her rationale - which is not very nice. (I'm being Southern here, so "not very nice" translates to "controlling".) 

Most people can relate to the decision to drive longer with less stops to get home to one's own bed. Most people empathize with those who need a routine to hold on to when they are in the midst of something scary and unfamiliar.I couldn't see that at the time of this phone conversation because I had already decided what was best and I had my "Queen Virginia" blinders on.

I apologized later for the mental wrestling match. And I laughed at myself for that self-righteous feeling I had when I was ticking off the list of "reasons my mother is wrong" in my head. Because after all that, I realized that the person that I was trying to comfort was me.

The Robins are everywhere in the early dusk…swooping and whisking by into the saplings and tall brush that run directly along the trail and lighting high into the tall trees along the river. They are all talking at once like excited school children on a playing field. I think no one is listening amongst them.

Even when they stop their singing, calling and whinnying, I can hear the flap of wings in broad movements and the flutter sounds of adjustments within their perches. They are slender and plump, large and small, young an old, all headed somewhere that I don’t know. As they rest their wings, they become orange red blooms on the barren branches of dark winter trees.

The sky is gray blue. Cold. I realize that I can see my breath as I walk. The skin on my face tingles against the air.

There are people running past me occasionally. But I must go slow. I must savor this outside, this smell of no things: no air freshener, no perfume, no body lotion, no things that nature did not make. There are times when I need this and the birds and the sky and the sensation of my skin and the proof that my breath exists outside of me.

This is where the proof of me exists, in this outside place where I have left as many  no things as possible behind me for a time. When work comes into my head, I say “No things.” And when I see someone and wonder if they are trying to achieve a goal, I say “No things.” Observing and listening is all that is needed. 

I turn at the bridge. Day has but a heel in sight, walking out the door. Past the field of saplings and brush, far in the tree-lined horizon, the sky blushes a bright orange red and Evening reaches down, rushing Day out. I notice the calm. The Robins are gone from the sky.

I loaded one of my new songs, Private Party, today. I'd like to thank David Partridge for coordinating all of the instrumentals and producing the final tune.

Buck Wilburn: Bass

Jay Cox: Slide and Electric Lead

David Partridge: Rhythm Guitar, Keyboards, Harmonica

Virginia Evans: Lyrics, Melody, Vocals

This is my first collaboration and it was great fun wondering what everyone would contribute and how it would all end up in the editing process. I'm extremely pleased and looking forward to the next collab.

Hope you enjoy!

Virginia

I've uploaded a recording of the newest tune, Hell No, possessing all of my newbie guitar player glory. I've requested collaboration on it...no names right now, sorry, gotta protect the innocent, the disinterested, and meself

Private Party is close to finished and was more than I had hoped for even in the preliminary stages. I had originally thought I was going to get some good rhythm guitar, but now there's also bass, Hammond organ, drums, and slide guitar - this is what I recall off the top of my head.

What an excellent start to the New Year. It looks like all my "Christmas presents" will be arriving throughout 2009.

I was speaking to a friend yesterday and I became dismissive about my family. I said I had done my duty by spending time with them and so now I could relax and enjoy the holiday. I felt uncomfortable as I said the words. And the encounter stuck with me for a long time. I woke up with it still in my heart today…

as a poet I find those words very interesting "still in my heart." The heart is not meant to be still – that would be a bad thing. Sometimes what I say or do, and what I fail to say or do, has an effect on me, and I feel constricted.

I was speaking with a friend about this over dinner last night. We shared how jealousy, competitiveness, and judgment (really all different brands of the same thing in my book) limit us. I spoke of  times when I had acted out of competitiveness and how the very act itself stems from a feeling of inadequacy which means I engage in an activity or creation with the thought "I am not enough, I must measure up." But how do I measure up, when I am sure to begin with the conclusion that I don't? Well, my experience is that it works like this: When an experience begins with judgment, it only fills with more of the same and nothing good comes of it. The whole attempt feels very much like swimming a race in quicksand, each movement dragging me down into the muck of my own creation.  Interestingly, I am the only one in the quicksand in this "race." How mindless that is ;)  I imagine that the heart stops beating here, and the force that I believed would move me forward is recognized for what it really is, a sucking weight of dirty muck that cares nothing for me or for the people and blessings that fill my life. I have thrown all that I love into the vast pit of judgment: my family, my friends, my talents, my possessions, utnil I am left with what I was really judging all along - myself. And it is too late when I realize that someone who associates with all of the "worthless" things that I once loved does not deserve any better fate. I am already deep in the pile of worthless silliness, being sucked down into the denigration of every beautiful thing until my heart is still and I give up trying to swim back to the surface. (yes, certainly, share this bedtime story with your children ;)

I can see more clearly this effect on my life as I look back now. I've traveled to the edge of the quicksand pit on many occasions. Most often with the things that mean the most to me. I struggled greatly with music when I first allowed myself onto the playing field. I used the word "only" for many years: I'm "only" a backup singer, I would say when I was asked to be the vocalist for an instrumentalist who wanted me to join them on stage. I can "only" sing for you if you give me a track to practice with, I would say to the writer who wanted me to provide vocals for a recording.  I "only" do it for fun, I'm not one of THOSE people who thinks anything is going to come of this, I have said over and over and over in Nashville because I was embarrassed to think that anyone would assume that my whole life is about "making it big." Well, it's certainly valuable that music is fun, and there's nothing wrong with accepting that you've chosen it as a hobby if that's what you've done without fear as your motivation. But when I read very "only" above, it is very clear that each one is an apology for myself and for my creation. There's a lot of worrying about what everyone else will think and not enough consideration for who I am and the value of what I naturally do.

Making it big should mean accepting my creativity and talent where it is, as it is. Making it big should mean that I understand that where I am and who I am is often, thankfully, due in some ways to other people who are imperfect like me, but without whom life is a much more difficult and lonley path. Making it big should mean that my heart is not still with the weight of judgment. I don't even like the phrase "making it big." What should it be…making it real, making it me, making me be... I'll go with that for now. Making me be. It's an "as I am phrase" but the word "making" allows for more. Ahhh, my heart feels better already.

Christmas has turned out to be wonderful this year. Last year I posted about my delicious warm socks that I had purchased for myself. But this year, it's waaaaay better. I wrote a song over Thanksgiving which I played at my office Christmas party. I have to admit, that was the public debut of the song. Everyone loved it. And I loved the song so much that I recorded it and emailed it off to a friend that I thought might be interested in playing rhythm guitar for me.

Anywho, David of Postcard Comets wrote back rather quickly that the song was fun and funny and he'd love a shot at rhythm guitar. Then he asked if Buck of Postcards could play some bass. Yes, yes, yes, I answered. Then came a suggestion for drums. Funny you should ask, I replied. This is the first song I've ever written where I thought: I'd love some drums on this. Seriously! My guitar guru at East Nashville School of Music said he needed to put it on the calendar that I WANTED drums.

The basic track is down now. I recieved it today. So there's still the final vocals and some bass and then...finally, some yummy slide to be provided by Jay Cox. And it will be all AMEN brothers and sisters. I can't wait.

David says that everyone can enjoy it even when it isn't Christmas. There's a mention of Santa Clause and such, but the song IS NOT about Santa Claus or Christmas.

Ponder on that for a few weeks. And then let me know what you think once it's posted.

By the way, I'm pretty sure I've developed a collaboration addiction just from the one song. Luckily, I've decided to cut back on other expenditures of time. So I'll be able to write, email, and collab with David and Buck and Jay and other Acoustic Forum individuals until they grow weary of me ;)

Oh yeah...Huzzah!! Here's to major weariness.Oh, and the song is titled Private Party.

-V

This is song about that part of the relationship when it's very new and sweet. The time when your arm brushes against the other person as you sit down and it feels like the most delicious thing on the earth. It's the stage where no one is sure where things are going...there's the rush of attraction...there's comfort of a long slow walk...but, gosh, although he's forty, he may live in his mother's garage ;D

Anyway, sorry to ruin this beautiful song with that introduction. I've played it on LOOM (Live On-Line Open Mic) twice, and for my guitar instructor, and for a few other people. And I just loaded it on the player, so it should be up shortly.

It's more than a kiss, this time with you

It's less than a dream, but more than a fantasy

I want more I want less, I don't know what I mean

But I know you are precious to me

The times when we touch innocent, accidentally

I want to grow wild, overrun my banks and flow free

But I hold myself back, I don't know what you feel

Is it like this for you, is it real

O the river flows to the depths of land it's true

Hold me in your arms, and I'll flow the depths of you

My friends say let go, you are just another man

In the journey of life, we must visit many lands

But for you I must stay, I'm not through with this land

Of  the many I choose this one man

O the river flows, the depths of land it's true

Hold me in your arms, and I'll flow the depths of you

I want more I want less, I don't know what I mean

But I know you are precious to me