What Now?

When it comes down to it, it’s really the only interesting question. And frankly, the only one the Universe is ever (and always) asking: What Now?!

In my twenty-plus years as a therapist, one of the things that stands out to me is our unwavering human propensity for story-telling. We are brilliant at it, and we do it non-stop, for everything. We have stories about the world and how things came to be; stories about our bodies and our finances and the scars on our hearts; stories about other people and those who both wronged and righted us. Our brains write stories effortlessly, and these stories often run in the background, like computer programming, leaving us unaware of their ongoing impact.

When people come in to therapy, there is often a predictable story-telling phase where the new client provides some history about themselves, recounting both the highs and lows of being a human on the planet. The details vary from person to person of course, but the process is similar. It’s the “how I got here” explanation that we offer our new co-worker over lunch, or to that cute someone on a first date. This process is, of course, all well and good, normal, and healthy - maybe.

The maybe is that so many of us use our stories in defense of our limitations - here’s why I’m not yet financially independent, or here’s why I can’t trust other humans, or here’s why my childhood trauma left my broken in these ways and why I’m all f*cked up. These stories, or explanations, even if “true” are not helpful to tell. Which brings me back to where I started - the question that IS truly helpful: What Now.

Not to belittle your trauma, but we’ve all got some. It’s all different and it’s all the same in one aspect - the only thing that matters is what we do with it NOW. What now? Use it to justify why you can’t connect more deeply with your partner? That’s one way. Use it as a catalyst to get into therapy and know yourself better? That’s another way.

I’ll write more about our emotional GPS system in the future, but it operates in exactly the same manner. Regardless of your “wrong turns” in life, or your recurring self-destructive patterns that continue, the only thing your GPS is concerned with is where you are now, and where you want to go. And focusing on where you want to go is a 100% sure-fire way to feel better the moment you start doing it.

It’s actually my favorite game to play - pick a thing I want (I’ll choose, for the moment…getting booked to play the Folks Fest big stage) and imagine it for a moment…several moments…for the pure joy of the feeling that arises when I put myself in those shoes. My heart starts leaping, “yeah yeah yeah! like a puppy that wants to play,” and the better I get at this game, the less I hear any contradictory “that’ll never happen” thoughts. I just remind myself again and again what it is I want, and why I want that, and how good it will feel when it comes. Stringing together moments like these can build some serious momentum. And what happens next in my life has a lot to do with the momentum I build. I used to blunder around by default, now I’m much more conscientious about the momentum I create.

So, less talk about our frozen footsteps. Get off the train of explaining how you got here, and stop arguing for your limitations. And start telling me where you’re heading, and why, and how freaking awesome it’s going to be when you get there. That’s the game I’m going to keep playing, and I love the feeling that happens when I play it. And I love the things that happen next.

Stay tuned, friends. This is getting exciting.

Happy Birthday Bend in the Middle

No matter how long it takes to record and release and album, it’s always longer than I think it’s going to be. And always longer than I’d like it to be. This time - releasing my 5th album (4th full-length) - I was the most relaxed I’ve ever been around the timeline. But that’s not to say I was relaxed.

It’s a nervy thing - being an artist, making music, sharing it with the world and trying not to care *too much about the reactions of others. Of course I want you all to love my music. But I also don’t want to care too much about what you think about my art, because it then gets in the way of the actual flow required for music making.

But we’re here! The album came out! It exists in real time and people are streaming it all over the planet. Literally. And so far, I’m validated to see that my favorite track on the album (Lovin’ Our Friends) so far appears to be your favorite as well, at least as far as streaming traction goes.

The album release show was perhaps my favorite night of music making in my life! The Dairy Arts center in Boulder was nearly sold-out, and I got to perform all 11 tracks with a 9-piece band! It was beyond dreamy. The one scaled back tune ended up stealing the show, as Kyle Donovan and I sang “You & I” as a duet, and it was memorable. I don’t get too many standing ovations, but the one I received at the end of the show felt as good as any in existence. My heart is swollen and I’ll be floating on the love from that evening for some time to come.

The process of writing, re-writing, recording and releasing and album often means that by the time you hear the first “new” song, I’m already a bit tired of it. You can imagine the hundreds (thousands?) of times that I have heard each song by the time we finally master it and get ready to share it with the masses. But that’s just part of the process.

The other big thing I was really excited about in releasing this album is that my songwriting has evolved at a rapid clip, and I’ve been eager to share with you where I am NOW. But I just just mentioned above, even NOW is fleeting, for I’m now excited for this next batch of tunes I’m writing, and so it goes.

The album itself is garnering wonderful reviews, which always feels gratifying. Thank you for listening, for sharing the music with your friends, and for keeping an eye on the YouTube channel. I’ll have a new video up soon doing a deep dive behind the album, discussing each individual song one a time.

Thank you for your continued support and love. It takes a village indeed. Stay tuned!

What does it mean to Bend in the Middle?

If you’ve been anywhere near my socials lately, you know that I just released a new song. It’s the title track to the new album, “Bend in the Middle,” which comes out October 18th. But this single, or “buoyant new release” as one reviewer called it, starts things off on purpose. Yes it’s high-energy, catchy, and makes a groovy dance track. But the reasons I led with it are much different than that, and have more to do with my ongoing career as a licensed therapist.

On the path to becoming a professional counselor, I was required to undergo many hours of my own therapy, digging in the dirt as it were to better understand what made me who I am. One thing I discovered then and continued to learn in my role as a therapist for others, is that we all tend to receive feedback from the world about the parts of us that don’t quite fit. This is especially true in our upbringing - hello middle school - but begins way earlier than that. We often internalize these messages that we are too this, or not enough that, and we mistakenly come to believe the story (which, for the record, is a narrative rooted plainly in the discomfort of a caregiver who, instead of tending to their own dysregulated nervous system, tried to enforce a different behavior from the offender so they wouldn’t have to feel their feelings). We, being little humans, typically prioritized this feedback, because who wants to upset Mom (or whomever)? So we created a split. We cut ourselves off from different aspects of our being, in the hopes that we would then fit in a bit better, and therefore receive all the love and affection we require.

As you can imagine, this split, coupled with the ensuing years of a now-contorted posture, has long-term implications for our health, sense of wellness, our ability to engage in healthy relationships, to manage our own nervous system, and to generally assume a sense of autonomy and responsibility as an adult in the world. It stands to reason that most us who survive into adulthood had to manage the transition from listening to our parents (or teachers, grandparents, nanny’s, whomever had authority) to listening to our own inner voices. Some of us learned to do that quickly, and assumed adulthood in our 20’s. Some of us (late bloomers) took longer, waiting until our 30’s, 40’s and beyond to start feeling like full fledged adults.

This is all the context for what it means to me to learn how to Bend in the Middle. It starts with getting our eyes off of what other people are doing, and what they think about what we are doing. Let’s keep our eyes on our own paper, so to speak. Work on our own sense of being in alignment with who we really are, instead of so focused on the perceived “ills” of the world.

Bending in the Middle means being flexible. Going with the flow, trusting that the Universe is working on your behalf, even if the present circumstances make that difficult to believe. It means training ourselves to look for the beauty, and to talk about it. Take more pictures, witness more sunsets. Breathe. Life is magical.

Our problem’s our disconnection
Our well intended split
But we can tune back into the goodness again
By loving all the parts that don’t fit
We’ve got to work it out from the inside
We’ve got to pull the sheets from the bed
Like everybody else I have the typical fantasies
But then the battle comes, then the battle comes
If we don’t start to Bend in the Middle

Love in the Pacific Northwest

I grew up in Issaquah, Washington, just east of Seattle. Knowing that helps explain my lifelong devotion to the sports teams the Mariners, Seahawks, and Sounders, despite now having lived in Colorado for the past 24 years. Each year I make the return trip home, where my family still resides, and soak in the sweet nostalgia that comes with a return to one’s roots. It’s wild the way that works. Driving around the old town brings up all these distant memories that hadn’t risen to the surface in decades…somewhere around here I got that speeding ticket…over on that exact field I played hundreds of hours of soccer eons ago…I remember so many things, many of them pleasant.

And while this trip was highlighted by my opening act at the famed Triple Door (opening for the Jacob Joliff band who blew my mind!), and picking blackberries right outside the front door of my brother’s house, the real gift of the trip, as usual, included humans.

My family of origin is relatively small; my mother lost her only brother when she was a teenager, and my Dad is one of four who have not stayed close. Growing up it was my mom, brother and me, plus weekends with Dad after they split. But there’s something about quality over quantity, and when there’s only a few of you (at least in our case), you lean on each other, becoming extraordinarily close.

My family is awesome, and I say that knowing how many people don’t feel that same way about their own families. But when I’m around my brother, especially and family in general, we laugh a lot. The love is palpable, the inside jokes go way back, and the wittiness among the clan never ceases to amaze me. Even our collective kids - now 18, 21, and nearly 23 - have taken up the baton and have razor-sharp senses of humor. And as much time as we spend laughing together, the reservoir that is my heart is simultaneously filling to capacity. The family love, the nostalgia of the area, coupled with the sheer beauty of the surrounding forest and hills, there’s nothing like it. I don’t know that I want to live in that area - the traffic alone is enough to dissuade me - but it sure is nice to come home.