To be one’s true self is the goal in life. This blog series would not exist if it weren’t for a reunion with an old friend who had all the makings of a modern-day Mozart. But at a pivotal fork in the road, he chose the path behind a desk, instead of one behind a keyboard, which would’ve honored his gift - like Mozart did. Now, 20 years later, he’s unrecognizable, this friend who once had music radiating from every cell, especially when singing in random bursts of happiness. The years have taken their toll - not just in the added 20 pounds that don’t belong, but in the heaviness that comes when living someone else’s life, and not one’s true purpose. The life you came here to live.
As a writer, this inspired me to highlight the special souls who chose to follow their true path. The tougher path, but one that honors and expresses the powerful gift of music they’ve been given. To live the Mozart life. May some of their words help or inspire you to find your true calling in life.
At a pivotal point in my life, I found Christine Lavin’s “Big Times in a Small Town” CD after seeing a fellow singer-songwriter at Passim’s, who is also on that album. I loved this CD compilation. It always made me feel like I was in New England, the heart of the coffeehouse and folk singers. It also captured a wonderful moment in time. Listening to it, with the laughter and good feelings among the singer-songwriters on a private retreat on the Vineyard, made me feel like I wanted to be there. What a nice, fun group of people and friends.
Cheryl Wheeler was on that CD and it inspired me to buy a few of her CDs, which included songs like “When Fall Comes to New England.” With this New England tradition of coffeehouse singer-songwriters, these songs made me feel very New England. Her poignant song “Further and Further Away” has helped many fans in their grief, as they ponder the words and allow for that emotional release, with such lyrics as, “Time keeps moving faster and faster, I’m not losing track. I’m afraid that something’s forgotten, so I keep looking back.” To this day, I get chills to hear it, like a time capsule to hear it, I keep looking back, wishing I was there in that tender moment when I discovered it, feeling the speed of the years in between. Cheryl reflects on that song, as well as others that came where she just got out of the way and let the music flow through her, what inspires her now, and her earliest musical memories of her gift.
The song “Further and Further Away” is on that Christine Lavin compilation, and one that I replayed a lot then, along with James Mee’s song. Sometimes a song is too connected to a certain point in life, so I haven’t heard it in years, but it was such a song of that era for me. The friend who took me to Passim’s that night, recently emailed me that I made a cassette copy of that CD for him that lived in his car for months (it’s cool to hear reflections of shared times with those we once shared them with) and that song was deeply important to him during that period. The song would come in when he drove back from visiting a nursing home, allowing him to have a much-needed emotional release, with an important line in the song “You were strong and you knew everything, that was all I had to know.” We need songs that help us connect to our emotions, what was your intention and inspiration for that song?
The inspiration was just feeling like I was getting old, realizing there were memories that were just fading away. It’s funny to me now, because according to my songbook, I wrote the song on July 6, 1990 just four days before my 39th birthday. I’m 65 now.
How do you find inspiration for your music? For example, with “When Fall Comes to New England” was that inspired by New England autumns? It’s said that’s when we’re most connected to our true selves, Higher Selves. For example, some of the best songs were written in minutes. What’s your take on that? Do you feel that those are the inspirational moments you’re most connected to your true self?
I have no idea where songs come from. You just find parts of them floating around in your head. I’m glad I don’t know. I wouldn’t want there to be a drawer you could just open and take out a song. There’s something magical about it and I hope there always will be.
Yes, “When Fall Comes to New England” was inspired by beautiful New England autumns. I was on Cutty Hunk Island, in Massachusetts, in late September, when I started writing it and I finished it at home in Swansea. I absolutely believe that the best songs are written really fast and that your main job is just getting out of the way and letting it come. I don’t know what the connection is, true self or something beyond, I’m just enormously, eternally grateful to get a song.
What song or songs are you most proud of, that came in such a seemingly easy manner, ethereally, almost?
I don’t think I have a song I’m most proud of. If a song moves people, to laugh, to cry, that is a huge honor. The most astonishing, fast, songwriting experience I’ve had was writing “Northern Girl.” I woke up that morning, picked up the guitar, sat on the sofa and sang that song straight through, beginning to end. At one point I remember thinking "I’m making this up.” And then thinking, “Shut up, shut up, just keep singing.” Then I went and got a piece of paper and wrote it down.
Do you have a musical process you do daily, like writing, for example?
I probably should, but no, I don’t. Songs can pick you any time, anywhere, and once they do, no matter what you might appear to be doing, you are working obsessively on that song.
When did you know you had this gift of music and how did it manifest for you? How did you start to do the human discipline it takes to channel your gift, hone it, and bring it forth?
Many of my earliest memories are sentences I thought, involving music. Here are two that come to mind - I was probably three, standing in our basement looking up at a table on which lay a toy ukulele with a crank in the side that would play music box type music. It also had strings. I remember looking around to be sure no one else was there, because I wasn’t allowed to take things off tables, I could barely reach the tabletop on tip toe. But reach it I did and I picked up the uke, strummed across the strings, turned the crank once, strummed the strings again and thought this sentence as I put it back up on the table - “Why would anyone want to turn the crank?” The other memory was lying in bed listening to the radio, probably in second or third grade, and thinking “Wow, I completely understand this.” My musicianship is quite simple, as is my understanding of music theory, but those simple understandings were just always there.
There are divine moments of serendipity, where a catalyst opens the door that leads to the path we’re meant to be on, the one where we live out the fullest expression of our true selves. What was that moment for you and how did it happen?
I’m not sure it was divine - but just after my 10th birthday, I was in my friend’s attic as she was sorting things into trash and keep piles. Into the trash pile she placed a plastic ukulele. I asked if I could have it. It was a toy, but a very playable toy. One of the gears was broken off, so it only could have three strings. This was the first time I’d picked up an instrument of that sort since the tabletop incident, and I had no notion whatsoever as to how to tune it. I don’t know what I would have done if it had had four strings, but it didn't, it had three, so I tuned them to a cord - 1-3-5 - tho I didn’t know a thing about 1-3-5 at that point. Anyway, once it was open tuned I found the 1-4-5 changes right away and played “Michael Row the Boat Ashore.” I guess it should have seemed weird, but it didn’t. I walked home playing it and then, when I got home, my mother was taking a bath and I went in and played a song for her. I remember that she laughed, in a delighted sort of way. I played the little uke everyday, loved it. Then for my 11th birthday my Dad took me to the music store to buy a real uke. I saw a baritone and begged for it. It was $20, the soprano and tenor ukes were around $5, $20 was a lot to spend on an 11-year-old in 1962, but my parents were generous. Dad insisted I also get an instruction book. I chose a Mel Bay book with photographs of, I think, 12 chords. They took probably half an hour to learn and I was - gone. Got a guitar for my 12th birthday and was well on my way to - never having a job.
What inspired this blog series was seeing an old friend who has a special gift of music, but didn’t choose that path, who, 20 years later, isn’t living the life he thought he would live. People who make music and get to travel the world doing so are a rare example of a life where one is able to honor and channel their gift of music. What are your thoughts? And do you feel you’re consciously living the life you thought you would be living?
I hope I never lose awareness of how incredibly fortunate I’ve been. When I was a kid it never occurred to me that I'd be a musician. After realizing that science required arithmetic so I probably wouldn’t be an oceanographer, I don’t remember thinking much about my future. By the time I was old enough to think about what I’d do with my life, I did feel I’d been given a gift and was very determined to honor it. When I quit college eight weeks before the end of my third year, my parental units were in no way pleased. There were lots of years of living in lots of places and spending all my time playing. I never really considered doing anything else. Again, I hope I never lose awareness of how incredibly fortunate I’ve been.
I’ve said in a blog post about living the Mozart life, that it may be a tougher road to choose, but you’re fully living your true selves. Do you resonate to that? You did not choose the 9 to 5 path. And to embark on this path you chose, was that difficult? Because you didn’t know you would get here. You didn’t know you would have the longevity you have.
I am aware of two schools of thought on “fully living your true self.” One sees it as a noble thing, forging ahead, never doubting, never worrying about where you’d live or how you’d get by, just believing you are doing what you’re supposed to do and that’s all that matters. The other sees it as a lazy, self indulgent, I ain’t havin’ no damn alarm clock, I ain’t havin' no boss choice. I think there is truth in both views.
How did you know that this is your life path, your calling? How does one know when you’re on the correct path?
I’m not sure I did know. I just wanted to do it. I’ve never loved anything as much as I love playing, singing and writing.
It’s been a tough year for music, losing its own. What are your thoughts on time, how it seems to go by faster each year. Perhaps it’s made you reflect on what you want to achieve in the time we’re given here? Do you think about time much and what you want to achieve in the time we have?
Well, it sort of does go faster, since every year is a smaller and smaller portion of your whole life. I think about time a whole lot because - what is it? I’m not religious but I think time is right up there with life and God and the universe and - other ponderables I feel as likely to understand as an amoeba is likely to teach algebra. I guess I don’t think about achievement, or making a lasting impression in the world.
Unlike any time in history, we’re in a overwhelming digital era. There is so much detritus, noise and schadenfreude. What’s your view on that, and how do you find quiet in this era? What do you do to connect with your Higher Self, your true self? Do you have a day you unplug for example? How do you ground yourself, focus on your own life path and purpose?
The digital stuff doesn’t bother me. I’ve always been able to go into my own little world and it’s still fun in there. Can’t claim knowledge of how to connect with what writes songs, I just hope it keeps finding me now and then. Though I imagine I do have things that ground me, I’m not sure what those things are. Probably the dogs and walking in the woods and my partner, Cathleen.
I’m a firm believer in doing mitzvahs, especially in the tougher times of our lives. To give back, be of service in some way, to use our time most wisely, can only help us in the end. What are your thoughts and do you try to do mitzvahs, even in the smallest way?
Being a folksinger has afforded many opportunities to help all sorts of wonderful organizations with benefit concerts. This is truly one of the greatest blessings in my life.
What advice do you have for people who have the gift of music, but don’t know how to start channeling it, to develop that gift and bring it out?
If you love playing and singing and writing - just do it. The rest will work out.
What do you do to help pick yourself up when you’re feeling down, and help you stay the course? Is there a song you play that inspires you when you’re needing some inspiration or to pick yourself up?
Feeling down is just part of life, like light and dark, can’t have one without the other and both are necessary. I'd rather feel sad than feel nothing, so I’ll take what I get, besides almost anything can be funny - eventually. Regarding inspiration, songs and books have thrilled and inspired me my whole life. I’ll end with this: nothing has ever inspired me more than “Hamilton,” I am grateful to be alive during Lin Manuel Miranda’s lifetime.