I'm playing in public again and (surprisingly) I'm really enjoying it:  it's time.  It's a bit weird to be sat behind a piano rather than cradling my guitar but I'm loving having the expansive freedom of so many keys.  I'm playing with and sharing the set with my friend Rebecca Wright (please check out her myspace) and its just great. And for the first time ever I'm accompanying someone else on their songs - it's a hell of a lot easier and more relaxing than being the upfront person all the time.  The cello piano combination is a bit lethal when it comes to sad songs:  I'll try and get a live recording up for you guys to hear.  

Seeing as I’m not gigging right now, I thought perhaps I should share something of the songs I’m writing at the moment. I’ve uploaded ‘Arctic Winter’ into my song list - I wrote it yesterday. This one isn’t the saddest of the new songs! I reckon ‘Arctic Winter’ might be a better Album title than ‘Music to get divorced to’! It does leave me with a bit of problem: how do I transfer these songs onto guitar? As there’s no way I’m lugging a piano around with me?

I love nature documentaries and this pull comes through really strongly in ‘Arctic Winter’. When I was wee I used to want to be a hermit living somewhere in the highlands of Scotland; partially it was in a desire to be away from people but it’s also part of my sense of peaceful aloneness in nature. Surprisingly (for my parents anyway) I grew into a loud extrovert but my nature connection creeps into many of my songs.

I’ve got a few fans who are children, and that makes me very chuffed (and surprised too). Noticing what they like and sing back to me has inspired me to try and be more descriptive in the way I paint the songs, as it’s the imagery that they really respond to. I suspect that the ‘child test’ (and teenage test) is a good measure of whether a song has lost its point by being too self-absorbed. If you are bored please let me know what you think of me using Piano versus Guitar.

My last pilgrimage stop was Boston and playing an 8 person gig; given that I only gave 2 days warning, 8 people who don't know me from Adam was actually better than I'd expected. I really enjoy small gigs where it's more of a conversation than a one-sided 'listen to me' thing. I made visits to both Harvard and Yale and surprised myself by thoroughly enjoyed being surrounded by brainy people stuffing knowledge into their brains. Lots of good conversations and it demonstrated that there are many different ways to learn. I really hate academic work and avoided it as much as possible when I was a student but being there made me value the fact that other people push the boundaries of intelligent reasoning this way.

One of the new and interesting things I started doing towards the end of my trip was house concerts where you turn up at the person's house, they invite their friends and you guess at what music and stories will be meaningful to them. I talked people's ears off and told many stories. A great advantage to doing concerts in people's homes is that there in no set expectation or agenda and I found that people responded warmly no matter what I sang or talked about.

After Boston I used the last journey on my rail pass and headed back up to my brother's in Vermont to visit my wee nephew who turned 3 the next day (major cuteness and lots of excited dancing round the livingroom to Putumayo & Keen). This journey north signalled the end of my pilgrimage and also the end of fall – something that is symbolically very important for me at this time. Four days later I limped to the airport struggling to carrying my bags and nursing and a sore throat and an infected wisdom tooth (keep you awake at night level of sore) but I needed to keep going and drag myself home as my travel insurance dental care was financially limited: America's immoral private health care system was the last thing I needed to tackle. It was time to stop singing (and talking). Once I land after a big high or a major event my body crashes and I often get ill: it's like an unpleasant natural way of bringing you back to earth in a body restraining kind of way.

This has been the most incredible journey of self discovery and letting go. So now I'm back at my parents, taking it easy, trying to over come my infection and wondering how to explain or summarise my experience/s.

Pilgrimage for me was about walking into the unknown with an open heart and a desire to be fully present and honest with all the people and events that I'd met. On Iona we would tell people that Pilgrimage was a very important part of the old Celtic Christian faith and a powerful spiritual tool: that it is a journey undertaken by letting go of expectations and opening yourself to meet God on the way, in whatever form or personal encounter that takes.

I met hundreds of beautiful beautiful people many of whom I shared with on a deep level. When people found out that I was on special spiritual journey rather than just travelling around they would go out of their way to help me and they always mirrored my attitude of openness. This created a deeper level of honesty and trust than custom normally allows; I feel so honoured and privileged to have been taken into the lives and homes of so many people. From the 80 year old Jewish lady sitting next to me on the train and travelling to a funeral to the philanthropic anarchists middle aged women to the wee boys drawing pictures with me on the kitchen floor. That part of ourselves that we see in others is a powerful gift: I knew this already but to experience a knowledge rather than just realising it is a different matter. Hospitality is a powerful and transforming thing when it's about caring for the soul. My journey showed me that beyond my own horizon there is a miraculous world full of incredible people, living inspiring lives. And that I am one of those inspiring lives: this was something I knew intellectually but experiencing that human mirror of kindness so shortly after loosing my marriage was so healing. My pilgrimage showed me that I have a beautiful future and no matter what happens, life is a beautiful gift.

---------------------

He was smiling but the tears were still in his eyes.
He had been dancing with his three-year-old nephew
But the sadness in the music ached in his soul
Just as much as the joy shone in both their eyes.

He was learning that life does not exist without death.
The man stood holding these opposing truths in his heart.

Perhaps joy needs to know something of death & letting go
In order to celebrate life?

He was smiling but the tears were still in his eyes.
He winked at the wee boy and they danced over and over again.

-----------------------

Unusually for me I've written poetry & some psalms on this pilgrimage, if you are interesting, let me know.

He was walking home from work when he realised he wasn't alone.
'Where did she come from?'
This wise young woman with scruffy boats and perfectly messy hair?
He had not noticed he was holding her hand.
They were talking into each other's eyes and listening to the sounds in each other's words.

"Who are you?" he asks but she only tells him her name as if he should know already.
"I have nothing to offer you but stay talking with me for a while".

They walk about noticing the wonder in all the things they see.
"This is more beautiful now" he says pointing to what ever catches his attention: the leaves underfoot or the fragrances passing by.
"I know" she replies then kisses him on the cheek and disappears into her house.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?" he calls after her but she has already gone.
He walks on with a bounce in his step. He notices that the evening is almost night already, looks at the last few moments of daylight and smiles at the wonder of creation and then disappears into his house wondering where she came from?

------------------

Problem was that she already had a boy and beautifully innocent encounters aren't so innocent when people cry. So it was time to pack up and move on (perhaps slightly too late). I landed with the most wonderful people: two Baha'i families who shared their homes and beautiful spirituality with me. They shared their prayer time with me and I was introduced to a Baha'I school/retreat called Green Acre which inspired me a lot especially in reference to the peace work that went on there - I would have like to stay there for a few days an just meditate in the grounds but I felt the need to head south. www.greenacre.org
Throughout this pilgrimage i've met such wonderfully inspiring people. I highly recommend releasing an album and traveling around a foreign land trying to use your use your music to connect with people and build community. I've found that regardless of whether I'm playing or not, when i tell my story with openness then people tell me their story. Leaving the boatshop was so hard because i'd found my feet again and they had become my new chosen family. I am going to train in boat building carpentry; it's no longer just an idea, now it's a plan and a future.

Today I'm in Gettsyburg Pennsylvania staying with friends at a seminary but soon i plan to head to DC and then probably up to New Haven and Boston before returning to Vermont to hang out with my wee nephew for his 3rd birthday.

Wow 984 have checked out my blog - I thought it was just my sister and a few pals.

I'm still in Maine USA at the carpenter's boatshop. It's such a gift being here: the community that I landed in is wonderful and wholesome (with endless amounts of heavy lifting! Tree trunks, washing machines, farm machinery, boats .... ). I live so much in my body here (often i end up stuck in my head or my heart) which is something i knew i needed to do after withdrawing into myself so much with my relationship split up. Having time to be out kayaking or walking in nature so often is great and i think working with the wood is also really good for me: when you are chiseling or plaining how you hold your entire body effects the way the wood responds. I love carpentry, I don't know much about it but i love it and my naive guess that building wee wooden boats would enable small groups of people to work together on a common task is spot on. You end up working closely around each other and it's a beautiful collective thing that is slowly taking shape beneath your fingers. It's a bit like playing music with people only it takes a lot longer and you don't need to be able to play anything. The staff and apprentices that I've joined are great people, all very different and my pilgrimage attitude of being open to everyone i met has helped me develop something deep with each one of them. In a few weeks I move on again and I'm loathed to leave. This is a place of intimacy and healing for me.

Tonight i played a lovely private gig for a man who was supposed to come and be an apprentice here but he ended up having a stroke and is busy recovering from that. It's a great thing to be able to fill a space with music and stories - Abba were right "Thank you for the music the songs I'm singing, thanks for all the joy I'm giving". Except perhaps joy isn't the right word when it comes to my music, I see people listening intently and crying sometimes which does make you nervous and question....
"What am i doing to my audience? And is this ok?".
This week i had a fantastic gig here in the boatshop with about 50 people 2 dogs and a cat. I really pushed the audience (except audience doesn't feel like the right word mmmh... bunch of receptive souls maybe?) to sing with me and to hear the ups and downs of the emotional stories in the songs. And the exciting thing is that they stayed with me, I managed to take them into to sadness and what feels to me while I'm on stage like sleepiness and then pull them out to another mood and another song. This is something that venue is critical for and it always helps to bring your own audience - strangers are great but they don't smiles as much. Sometimes I worry that my gigs feel too heavy and melancholy and then i wonder if people go away drained or low or something - people who have been to my gigs will probably understand what I'm writing about. So throughout this series of gigs I've been experimenting with different ways to sing my songs and tell my stories while also injecting a higher energy. There's lots to learn - like it's ok to shock your audience with a higher honesty that society normally allows, something I'm prone to doing, as long as you disarm the situation with humour and humility.

After my gig tonight I'm tired, putting energy and intention into the experience makes you tired so I should stop rambling here and go to bed.

It's fall and I've been told it will be at it's peak in the next day or two. Tonight after work I canoed up river through a beaver dam and watched the sun glowing on multi coloured trees: peace, nature in all her splendor and the feel of being on the water. It's like the west coast of Scotland only there's trees everywhere and the rain falls straight down rather than sideways. And they have puffins and lobster fishing which reminds me so much of Iona. But living among the trees and the wee windy roads reminds me so much living on the farm in Australia, so this places is a mishmash of concepts in my head.

I'm at the carpenter's boatshop which is an excellent little project that is soul food and so heart warming http://www.carpentersboatshop.org/ I love it. They are so used to people coming and knowing next to nothing that they just automatically instruct you in everything you don't know. The days are communal and long and full or making things. Currently I'm helping finish off a 'skiff' (it's a small light weight rowing boat) that some fishermen are about to buy next weekend. Years ago when I first found out about this project I said that if I ever got lost this is where I'd go and 10 years later here I am – except I don't feel as lost as I did when I asked to come but perhaps that's the perspective of being on the other side of the Atlantic! Life is definitely a bit clearer when you aren't having to live it.

At the weekend we ended up re-shingling this lady's house – the houses here have steep roofs to keep the snow off (something I hadn't worked out when I volunteered to do this) and prior to this weekend I knew nothing about shingles or drip-lines or how to stay on a roof without staging. When I first got up there, I seriously didn't like it but once your up your up: so I went all the way to the peak and did as much work there as I could until there was no more work to do and then I had to work out how to get back down the roof without falling off. But the second day I was much more confident and ended up laying the last shingle. I discovered that I am not able not to swear in front of small children if I hit myself with a hammer: now the astute of you may be wondering why a small child was up there on the roof! He's a great wee 5 year old and he was up on the roof with his Mum and Dad! Health and safety laws seem to be ignored much more in the USA which if funny given their immoral health care system.

I'm meeting lots of wonderful men who use their carpentry to do much more than just carpentry and they are inspiring me a lot but some of them are missing fingers and this makes me really wonder whether the singer songwriter carpenter mix is such a good idea!

My pilgrimage is going really well. You meet beautiful and quirky people everywhere you go and if they can sense that you have time to spare and an open heart then they share something of their world with you; I found this to be especially on Greyhound buses. And I keep ending up on buses where the driver sings to you. Each day I read and meditate and I'm getting a bit of song writing in there too – living on Iona taught me that time is precious and that you can squeeze time to fit it all in and still get 8 hours sleep. I prefer 10 hours! Rudolf Steiner (one of the book I was reading) said that lesser evolved souls need to sleep more just like babies do!

I have taken photos but so far they are still held hostage on my camera (bloody computers!) but I do have a new album with the few photos other people have taken if you are interested.