It's Veteran's Day, and I'm thinking of one my old songs “Hell Town” written about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in veterans. This past year, the issue hit close to home when we lost a family member to PTSD.
Battle certainly doesn’t end when one comes home from a war zone.
I am grateful to the brave ones who literally give all to serve our country. And I am also deeply saddened when that “all” can't return “home” through trauma's isolating darkness.
As a society, may we do all we can to build systems of compassion and healing. It's only together that we mend the brokenness.
For anyone dealing with PTSD, I pray that you are able to get the help you need to begin healing, that you feel the light and the love that surrounds you, and that you can tap into that brave spirit to work through the trauma to shape a different future.
May we think, speak and act in peaceful ways so that our children don’t learn extremism, racism, antisemitism, hate and ultimately terrorism…so that we can shape a different future as well. Peace begins within each one of us.
Thank you to my musical compadres Doug Floyd (electric guitar), Jay Trapp (bass) and Will Clipman (drums) for making this music with me, to Gina Bailey for the editing and creative vision, and to Nancy Hernden for recording.
I live in a society where appearance “matters”. I’ve struggled with this since embarking on my musical journey almost two decades ago. I always wanted my “image” to be about my music - not about how I look or the appearance of anything other than what I was trying to portray through my music. When it was strongly suggested to have my picture on the cover of my first CD, I refused, despite the hype to do this. Instead, I commissioned artist Frank Balaamto paint the most beautiful album cover that I have (as of yet), depicting the images that my songs encompassed…souls passing through.
One year ago this past weekend, I was making music in Green Valley, Arizona when suddenly the roof of Desert Hills Lutheran Church sounded like it was being pelted in. The sky lights broke, rain fell onto the large black, beautiful grand piano that I was playing and the electricity went out. The band and church had to stop mid-service. As the storm passed, we all wandered out to our cars to find broken lights/mirrors/windows and extensive hail damage.
After months of negotiation, the insurance company declared my car a “total loss”. It was strange to me because the car runs perfectly. It's only reached half its lifespan (maybe less), and it’s the first vehicle I’ve ever bought new and owned from the beginning. It just has a “bad case of pox” as my guitarist friend Danny Krieger said (his car got it too).
I think about my physical being and the wear and tear that life brings. Yet, through it, I’m here, still making music, trusting that when I reach the time “when my hourglass drains its last white sand to the floor,” (lyrics from my song “Turquoise Sea”) that my time here will not be deemed “a total loss.”
I decided to keep driving and “salvage” my pox-scarred-car, maybe turn the scars into art, honor its reliability (which I value more than appearance), put the money in the bank for when I need a new car, and in the meantime, make the most of each day…scars, art and all.
Years ago when I moved to Tucson, I walked my dogs at sunrise. Some mornings, I’d cross paths with an elderly gentleman wearing a Korea Veteran cap, a cane in one hand and his dog’s leash in the other. One morning, I asked him how he was doing. He replied, “I’m still walking’, the birds are singing’ and those clouds are clearin’. Ain’t it a good day to be alive?”
That one interaction shifted my perspective - quieting my woes and planting seeds for what would become a studio recording over a decade later.
The unfinished lyrics, melody and chords lay dormant in the archives of my journal and mind until 2020 when my band and I began recording “Roots Run Deep”. I knew this album would be the perfect home for the song. I finished it, and we recorded it.
Such a small conversation left a deep imprint on my being, and became part of the “roots” that shape me.
Thank you to my band and musical co-inspirers – Doug Floyd (electric guitar), Jay Trapp (bass) Ralph Gilmore (drums) and Seth Murzyn (violin) – for rockin’ the tune, and to Steven Lee Tracy at Saint Cecilia Studios for his stellar production and engineering work.
Here's the studio recording:
And here's our debut live performance of it:
May gratitude fertilize our soil and love shift our ground, allowing our roots to grow deeper and more interconnected.
Years ago when I moved to Tucson, I walked my dogs at sunrise. Some mornings, I’d cross paths with an elderly gentleman wearing a Korea Veteran cap, a cane in one hand and his dog’s leash in the other. One morning, I asked him how he was doing. He replied, “I’m still walking’, the birds are singing’ and those clouds are clearin’. Ain’t it a good day to be alive?”
That one interaction shifted my perspective - quieting my woes and planting seeds for what would become a studio recording over a decade later.
I went home and began writing “Good Day to Be Alive.”
The unfinished lyrics, melody and chords lay dormant in the archives of my journal and mind until 2020 when my band and I began recording “Roots Run Deep”. I knew this album would be the perfect home for the song. I finished it, and we recorded it.
Such a small conversation left a deep imprint on my being, and became part of the “roots” that shape me.
Thank you to my band and musical co-inspirers – Doug Floyd (electric guitar), Jay Trapp (bass) Ralph Gilmore (drums) and Seth Murzyn (violin) – for rockin’ the tune, and to Steven Lee Tracy at Saint Cecilia Studios for his stellar production and engineering work.
Here's the studio recording:
And here's a debut live performance of it:
May gratitude fertilize our soil and love shift our ground, allowing our roots to grow deeper and more interconnected.
A cloud hovers over my city. Heaven touching earth, displaying the beauty of dark and light, soft hues of hope in between. The people gathered in my town tonight, peacefully, respectfully. A sense of communion, communal grieving, empowerment. Wanting a better way, to create a better story.
As the evening came to a close, all it took was one. A some-one, broken deep in the heart to ignite the brokenness of the other-ones until the factions began. And communion was over. And the old story of “us vs them” began again.
Meanwhile, a cloud hovers over my city. Nature’s communion. Heaven touching earth. An endless offering to humanity – in the air we breathe to the earth that sustains us. Everything we need to thrive - but only when we are in communion.
It was winter solstice, the longest night of 2010. I felt that familiar energy palpable in my veins, like an intense vibration, of a song wanting to emerge.
Mary. The story. The archetype of every human...being completely vulnerable and outcasted while carrying the spark of divinity within. Terrified by that spark, yet going forth on faith to fulfill the quest to bring that spark into the world.
It was this story, the longest night of year, sirens outside of my house, and headlines of our war-torn world that inspired my writing “Light to the World.”
Three weeks after writing this song, the tragic shootings of January 8th, 2011 occurred in my town of Tucson, Arizona. Three days later, I played “Light to the World” outside of Gabrielle Giffords’ office at our community vigil. There were many people, many stories, many faiths and many differences. Yet we had one mission: to grieve in Unity, and in Unity, heal. That night, this song took on a much deeper meaning as we gathered, lighting candles and invoking light into an extremely dark situation.
"She wanders through the valleys and the hills On this dark, dark winter’s night. The leaves left the trees, The townspeople cast her to the waning light. Searching for a home, searching for a place to rest her head There is something inside of her wanting release On this dark, dark winter’s night. The star in the heavens reminds her of Light Divine Where there is no fear, no separation, no suffering, only One.
And the angels sing, "Glory, come lay your head, Glory, and you shall be fed As you bring forth Light to the world On this dark night."
I walk through the streets of the desert On this dark, dark winter’s night. Treading with a heavy heart Broken by the war raging around me. Red and blue sirens are singing in the key of tragedy, Yet the Peace that passes all understanding Is standing here, holding me. The star in the heavens reminds me of Light Divine Where there is no hunger, no hate, no greed, only One.
And the angels sing, "Glory, come lay your head, Glory, and you shall be fed As you bring forth Light to the world On this dark night."
We wander through the valleys and the hills On this dark, dark winter's night. I reach for your hand and walk beside you, my lantern grows bright. The star in the heavens beckons us to light divine, Where there is no fear, no separation, no suffering, only One. And the angels sing, “Glory, come lay your head. Glory, and you are fed, as you bring forth Light to the World, As WE bring forth Light to the world, As we bring forth Light to the world On this dark night.” "
Oftentimes, lyrics and melodies awaken me in the middle of the night, and then play over and over in my mind until I let them out. This past week, a distinct vocal riff of C-D-E-E with the words "May I be love" was haunting me. And this is what it became - my Thanksgiving week mantra set to music. Actually, it may pertinent for any day. Or better yet, maybe every day...as a reminder to live mindfully in gratitude, acting from that place of Love.
May I be love, May my soul shine its light Even in the hardest days, The darkest nights. May I know peace As my own On this journey home.
May I feel grace, May I know that I am One In this corner of creation, We are greater than our sum. May we live each day With a song of thanks For this journey home.
May I see through the brokenness - Be part of the blessing just beyond. May I reach through fear, And offer a refuge from the storm.
May I be love, May my soul shine its light Even in the darkest days, The hardest nights. May I speak Truth - The Truth that sets us free To be the best of what we came here to be.
May we live each day With a song of thanks For this journey home. May we live each day With a song of thanks For this journey home.
I remember when I worked as a young nurse in Alaska. My brilliant colleague had recently arrived to work with us. She grew up in India. One evening, we were walking on the tundra (probably berry picking, but I don’t exactly recall). She looked at me and said in her thick British/Indian accent, “Amber, I do not understand why kids here go to school and shoot each other. In India, it is a privilegeto go to school.”
That was 20 years ago. I lived in Bethel, Alaska, and the tiny town was still reeling from a school shooting in the mid-90’s.
The societal illness underlying this story continues to spread and plague my beloved “United” States of America.
I recently watched the documentary Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am. Amazing life. Phenomenal woman. Nobel prize winner and much more. Her writing opens people to connect to their feelings and witness through story that love can transcend the most trying, painful times. She literally lived her words, “If there is a book you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, you must be the one to write it.”
There is a new story that wants to be written. It reflects Martin Luther King, Jr’s words, “In spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace. We adopt the means of nonviolence because our end is a community at peace with itself. We will try to persuade with our words, but if our words fail, we will try to persuade with our acts.”
This new story is a reckoning of minds, hearts, words and deeds. It doesn’t come through blaming and finger-pointing, but rather through a deep accountability in every human conscience - being aware of each thought that turns into word and then into action, and how this projects into the world. Does it heal or does it destroy?
It is a story of union, starting from within oneself and moving out into the community. It’s a story where my country lives up to its name UNITEDStates of America, where we can fly our flags at full mast because we love our neighbors as ourselves, and hence, do not destroy one another. It’s a story that welcomes diversity to the table for its gift of perspective. In this new story - respect, diplomacy and consideration are valued more than money and fame. It’s a story where we strive to heal each other, build healing systems and as my former boss in Alaska once said to me, “leave this world a little better than when we got here.”
It’s a simple story; and it’s not a matter of if we can do it, but when will we choose to do it?
and the trauma ebbs a bit further into the archives of the heart.
Yet the Light remains...
Strong, subtle, soft, silent -- Growing and expanding into infinity, Waxing in completion -- Through the stories we tell of heroism, connection and feats of love. Fully alive -- in the candles we light, and in the sparks of inspiration that we act upon and make manifest while still in this "earth" realm...
During my sunset walk, I passed a group of pigeons, who suddenly lifted off the ground upon my approach. They were in perfect orchestration on lift-off, and the rush of wind under their wings bathed my senses. Circling above, they innately knew how to move together as one unit. And then as if the great conductor of the sky gestured them to land, they lit in unison, each in place upon the telephone wires.
When I play music, I feel that amazing conductor of Life at work extending through all of us - through me, my bandmates, the listeners - and for that moment, we are together in vibration and rhythm, each playing a role that contributes to the unique experience of that moment. It is a sense of profound communion.
I think about how powerful we are in this place. This place of Oneness...where we share a common mission - where we choose to play a part in the song of connection, love and healing...
Or not...
For it's always a choice, and we always share in a mission - be it constructive or destructive. We can choose to make breezes or hurricanes, peace or war...ultimately heaven or hell as we walk together upon this planet.
Either way, when the dust finally settles, what's left is the Oneness that continues to exist...the amazing life force that brought us here and continues to shape shift our beings...that continues to spin the earth just right for the sun to rise and for humanity to awaken to new beginnings...if we choose.
To the orchestra of pigeons...job well done. Thank you for a fabulous performance on my walk this evening.
Nature has a way of reminding me that it's my choice of how I fly...scattered and separate, or together and in grace.
