I just returned home from a short journey. I spent a week and a half on tour with Springtime Carnivore. I could go on and on about the astounding energy of Dasha, the bassist, or Greta's incurable optimism.
Greta jumped out of bed every morning with a cheerful "Good morning!", did her yoga stretches, and went on a morning walk, all before I could rub the sleep out of my eyes. I kept waiting for the moment when the tea-kettle lid would pop off, and all of her hidden fury would erupt, but it never happened.
Sometimes being around striving musicians, screenwriters, and composers in L.A. can be disheartening since there is a lot of rejection, and the way they look at situations most of the time, a lot of failure.
It was truly a breath of fresh air to see an artist doing exactly what she was put on this planet to do with a skip in her step.
|This photo was taken by a good friend, Yoori Shin, at The Bardot in L.A.|
A personal theme develops on every tour I participate in. I discovered a mild pain that would come and go in my left hand and forearm early on in the tour. This, my friends, is a guitarist's worst nightmare. I am no stranger to the pain and damaging effects of carpal tunnel. My little sister has suffered from carpal tunnel at too young an age. I've watched her struggle to put down her paint brush as she waits to recover. (Thankfully, I'm all better now, just want to throw that out there so you don't worry!)
The pain had a very important lesson hidden for me. During one of our shows, I couldn't ignore the dull aching which wouldn't allow me to focus on my interaction with the audience (my favorite part!) I didn't want to let the experience of playing music for the kind people of Toronto slip away from me, so out of frustration, I turned to the wisdom of my body and began breathing deep.
I became aware of my breath filling up my lungs and then leaving my body. I realized that I normally breathe shallowly on stage, due to nerves or too much excitement. Breathing deep, allowed me to relax my fingers and my wrists. I instantly began to play with better technique. The music came back into focus.
During this tour I received news that my uncle had died. I tried to keep it together in front of my new bandmates.
Luckily, everyone left the cabin we stayed in to see some old friends, and I had some time alone. I tried to implement my new "deep breathing" technique I learned on stage the night before, to allow my body to relax into the feeling of overwhelming sadness, but I couldn't do it. I kept tensing up, and I couldn't find my breath.
I had to remind myself,
"Meg, It's o.k. if you can't find your breath right away, you've been tense and unaware of deep breathing for most of your life. Give it time."
I'm sorry to bring up this sad, personal moment, but I'm telling you this to show you I'm still a work in progress. I learn a lesson, and I still need to work on it day by day.
We concluded the tour with a visit to The Museum of Anthropology in Vancouver, on a beautiful overcast day. I left that place with a keen sense of the importance of a tight-knit community, tradition, and culture.
Also, I snapped the below photo, which inspired me to create some clay creatures that I will be showing everyone soon! I'd also like to remind everyone that my jewelry shop will remain open during Thanksgiving and Christmas of course. I'm bringing all of my jewelry supplies with me back home. They will be tucked in between Dia's ice chests of Korean food and Earl Grey pie she is bringing home to my mother.
I'd like to wish everyone happiness and joy this coming Thanksgiving Holiday. Please take time to find your breath and relax when your aunt Juniper asks you to "please pass the turkey", and "are you still doing 'the music thing'?" and if so, "how do you manage to keep your lights and water on, dear?"
The appropriate response being, "Why my dear aunt, what use to me would lights and water be if there wasn't music?"