It’s a blustery day in Northern Michigan and I am watching the snowflakes swirl in lazy currents, catching the town in a globe of winter wonder. The silence of this last month stands in stark contrast to the frenetic pace of the past two years. It has been more than a season. It has been a condition. It has been… Everything. At. Once.
At a high level, I’ve run a successful Pledge Music campaign, recorded and released an album, three music videos and a vinyl, and organized the necessary marketing in conjunction with all those things. I’ve had the opportunity to work in Detroit, Ann Arbor, Los Angeles, Belfast and Fairhead in Northern Ireland, and even close to home along the shores of Lake Michigan. I’ve had the honor of collaborating with dozens of talented artists, musicians, producers, directors, actors, a wonderful publicist and one helluva manager… the list of people who have touched this project is a long one. It was a huge undertaking, this Daylight.
Also during the span of this time, other things were happening (as they do). I was grieving the loss of a mother and celebrating the arrival of a granddaughter. We sold our home of 15 years and chose to build out a small loft in an existing building in town. During the buildout, we moved 5 times, sometimes renting and sometimes sharing the home of friends. With the ongoing project, we experienced the uniquely Western anxiety of wrestling our possessions down to a minimum (#KonMari) and the constant feeling of upheaval. I was the project leader of this massive undertaking and yes, this was happening in conjunction with the album release.
There are, of course, a myriad of other things I won’t go into… conflicts and resolutions, injuries and healings, triumphs and letdowns. Mostly, there are those things that directly impacted this journey, but are not necessarily my story to tell. I’m sure you have those too.
And so, it is the end of January and I am just beginning to understand the emotional impact of this “everything at once”. This type of sustained activity is exponentially draining for an artist and a Type IV Enneagram like me. Subsequently, I have become lost to that which sustains me and to those around me.
While I can’t change what has gone before, I do have today.
This is not a resolution. This is release. This is a relinquishing of will to the circling trajectory of the drift outside my window.
This… is enough.
This….
One. Thing. Now.