award-winning documentarian: radio + music + photography
I cannot help but contemplate the precious, precariousness of life this week. Two beloved people died in the span of 7 days, one in my extended community, the deeply loved Tamar Bittleman, and one of the greatest talents of all time, Philip Seymour Hoffman. Both young. Both sudden, tragic deaths in the same week.
Definitely a moment for pause.
I try my best to seek the gift in everything, as painful as the experiences might be. For the living, I find that death can be a purposeful reminder to dig deeper and truly live while here at all. We get to soak in the elements of right now. Oh this beautiful full breath into our lungs! What a fleeting, rhythmic gift of aliveness to be gone in an unknown flash.
Why not stretch beyond our comfort zone and live boldly and bravely into who we are becoming? With this overarching vision to do something that positively impacts the world, there is also the necessary art of balancing these big ideas with knowing our neighbors and the practice of daily life tasks: dishes, laundry, food shopping, cleaning, pick ups, and drop offs.
Why not act on what our soul is calling us to do inside the seemingly mundane rituals? Why not use our fear as fuel to take us through the fire, and into the magical light force awaiting us all? While we are here for this tiny little window, what radical acts of healing can we muster so that at the end of our lives, we can rest peacefully, knowing we did our very best to show up to life?
I have a magnet on my fridge that reads, "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do then by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
When I first bought this magnet I was at the very beginning of hearing the very scary DELVE whisper inside my gut. What is your whisper? Do you have one waiting inside of you?
I've partially written 10 new songs for another album and just need a week retreat to focus on writing. The thought of such an experience sends tingles from head to toe. It will come in the right time. For now, I write in the windows that come. I look forward to delving into another exhilarating production process when the time is right. But for now, I am feeling very full and pregnant with, and ready to birth, DELVE.