I just connected with a friend I hadn’t seen in five years.

I was under the impression it had been two years. (In general, I’m under the impression things happened two years ago. My brain does the absolute LEAST to differentiate history from present.) 

I would have done well to check the calendar before we sat down. I was prepared for it to have been two years. Meaning, aware as I am that friends, in addition to being the most exquisite of human experiences, serve as TIME CAPSULES of who we were the exact last time we saw them, I was prepared to encounter Rachel-two-years-ago…

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I'm a sucker for a crossroads. Tell me you're at a crossroads and I'll drop everything.

I'm not in it for the pros and cons. I'm not even in it for the hopes and fears. I love a crossroads for the forced reckoning. Which version of yourself do you choose? Who does this crossroads reveal you to have ALWAYS been?…

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I used to write by running.

My writing process looked like this: I'd sit at my piano, trying really hard to write a song. I'd get nowhere. Then I'd take a break and go for a run. Three miles out, I'd hear it completed and run really fast back home to record before I forgot it…

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A few years ago my work was divided in two: the service part (I taught piano lessons) and the creative part (I was a recording/performing artist). This is not to say there was no creativity in my teaching and no service in my artistry. Of course there were glimmers. But for the most part I served students by relaying my knowledge of Bach Inventions and Jazz standards. And I delved my creative depths in the words, melodies, and chords of my songwriting…

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Two times in my life I recognized a calling.

The first was when I wrote my first song. I thought, "This is what I do." The second was when I first gave a songwriter feedback on a song-in-progress. I thought, "I didn't know callings happened more than once in a lifetime!"…

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I am very driven.

I love the ache of striving. Of solving. Of alchemizing from ideas of ideals the crude, shining, tangible stuff of creativity.

But 6 months ago something happened. It's not that I was stopped in my tracks. I won't be that histrionic about it…

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My most newsy news this month is that I'm a writer on the just-out Narada Michael Walden album, Euphoria. In honor of Narada's release, I figured I'd devote this, the streamy/dreamy portion of my Newsletter, to an abridged list of what I've learned from my now 3 year, rockingly formative collaboration with Narada. But somehow that list proved lengthy and a bit technical…

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When I was a kid I took the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. Odd choice. Odd circumstances. Odd test. The whole thing was odd.

The results made some sense to me. Introvert. I mean, sure. I hung out with trees a lot. Intuitive. Indeed. I could tell you how you're feeling but not your eye color. Thinking. Duh, what else am I going to do? 

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Some of the greatest losses of my life have been losses of illusion.

The past few weeks I've looked upon a constellation of precious illusions. Watched spellbound as every few days one of them burns bright. Lights the whole sky. Explodes and is gone…

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I'm about to do something ill advised.

I'm about to tell you about a dream I had last night.

I know, I know! A dream is endlessly interesting to the person who had it! And deathly dull to the person nodding politely along!…

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There's a stage of songwriting I call the hot potato. You're minding your own business, working away at whatever pre-chorus knot needs untying, when all of a sudden the song becomes so hot to the touch you have to put it down…

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The first place I ever found myself was writing a song.

There I was, thinker of thoughts, feeler of feelings. Beneath the scaffolding of chords and melodies I was free to wander about. For three and a half minutes at a time I could breathe…

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Two things stand out to me about being a music producer.

First, producers must be artists. They must attune to songs and figure out what they need. They must audition parts in their minds then audition those same parts in their Protools sessions. They must follow their thoughts and emotions down the winding path of how they want the music to sound…

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Creativity has seasons.

Not that I can tell you what they are.

Because really, I think, every creative outing has DIFFERENT seasons. Song A wants 6 months under ice before sending its first brave sprout. Song B is a windstorm and you'll be raking leaves long past the moment you press record…

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Creativity is a boundary-less space. 

You're not you. I'm not me.

In service of the song we are disappeared. Subsumed. Weightless. Needless. Miles in the sky and rising…

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Creativity is a boundary-less space. 

You're not you. I'm not me.

In service of the song we are disappeared. Subsumed. Weightless. Needless. Miles in the sky and rising…

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I will always remember the day I came to terms with myself as a performer. I was scheduled to open for Spencer Day at the Independent. I loved Spencer with the full hearted awe of watching a first star peek through the twilight -- he was my VERY favorite. It was also the first time I'd perform with my own band…

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I stepped with both feet into December.

I coaxed my introverted self to a flurry of holiday parties. I enjoyed them! I had special rendezvous with each main character of my 2022. We recalled the arc of it. We expressed gratitude for its fruits and each other. On 12/21 I dressed in gauzy black and lit a candle. Whenever I wasn't in a hot yoga class, I surrounded myself with space heaters. And in the final week I retreated into the long night of it all. After a year of serving in so many ways, I brought my attention back to myself. Gathered my scattered bits. Even indulged in the opportunity to pursue some me projects. One you have seen: My pretty new web site! Another, an ebook about songwriting, is available soon!…

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