I haven’t been writing much in here, but not because nothing is happening–quite the contrary! My progressed Moon has moved to inward, nonverbal Cancer from loquacious Gemini, meaning that it’s harder work to craft words to describe my experiences, and hard also to muster the motivation to try, but I’ll give it a quick shot before I go out the door (o summer).

Last night I played for a private party in Duncan, and it was so lovely. The feedback I received was simply over the top and I’m still processing it. One man said “I had tears streaming down my face.” Many people were generous with very specific feedback about my voice and songs, all of it superlative and highly praising. I feel honoured and humbled and post-coitally blissful right now!

And the best part was, I was being paid - and generously - which I took as an excuse to play all I wanted. The host and hostess were too busy at the party hosting to be able to sit and listen to the music, so I played a late night private set just for the two of them after everyone else had gone. Intimate audiences (the more intimate the better) are still my favourite, though there’s certainly something to be said for numbers, as well. It was very sweet.

I’m a song slut. I never want to stop. I receive so much pleasure from the act of sharing this stuff, the singing, the songs, the emotion and passion and vibration of being and feeling and doing it, that if I could afford to, I would pay them to listen. But it’s much nicer to be paid, because then (in addition to the money which is a necessary part of modern life and I can’t think of a better way to make it) I KNOW that they are interested and want to hear more. It’s an affirmation that they’re paying attention, that they value the experience.

So, gosh and gee, that’s all I have time to say about that. Apologies for the dearth of entries here, I’ll try to do better. Though it’s summertime and I’m rushing out the door to go camping, so definitely nothing for the next few days. I have more to say about my musical and other journeys, but the tales remain confined to my mind for now.

My journey continues on its tricksy winding path, leading me to surprising endings and unexpected openings. For one, I’ve decided to cancel the ‘Salon Phoenix’ series. The first one was lovely, with several beaming faces encouraging and applauding, and with the added bonus of Selwynn sharing her beautiful song. Now there’s a rising star in the making! I’m very grateful for the support of my friends and beloveds and the experience was awesome all around.

Still, I’m in the process of feeling my way through my life, going by what feels right rather than what looks best, or what felt right in the past… and my feeling now is to let go of that regular Tuesday commitment. It just wasn’t feeling right to keep going. Another factor (but not the deciding factor) is, my body wants me to go for the Tuesday evening yoga class at Seaside yoga which is right around the corner from my house. Pnina is a wonderful teacher and my body is in desperate need of just this very thing! I’ve never done yoga and now I’m an addict. Must… keep… going… must…

My reasons for initiating the salons in the first place was to help me to gain comfort and confidence playing in front of people, and I’ve found an equal-yet-opposite alternative that requires no regularly-scheduled commitment. Yay for busking! Yes, my busking journey continues with much better results than first reported. After that first day, I’ve received nothing but happy faces and coins in the case. Somebody even gave me a hat, last time. It’s true! He had nothing else to offer, and pleased with my rendition of ‘House of the Rising Sun’ (which I played at his request), he offered me his hat. Which I accepted, because really, it’s the perfect busking hat, dark gold felt, very funky and cool. You’d never know I hadn’t picked it out myself. I’ll post a photo of it soon.

The last few days I tried to go busking, it poured rain all day so I haven’t gone in this week yet, but today I hope to head in to Nanaimo for an audition for a busking permit there. That’s right… audition… to busk. It’s an odd concept, but Nanaimo has some fairly stringent rules with which they apparently hope to weed out the less-than-dead-serious. But they’re not going to stop ME, nossirree, LOL!

The ‘audition’ consists of me presenting a list of 8 songs, three of which Vanita (sp?) will pick at random, and I’ll play them. If I know the songs, I’m in. No biggie, and easy to do. I’m learning all kinds of cover tunes these days and having a great time with those. You should hear my version of ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone’!

Still, the love of my heart is playing my own songs for people, so I’m very happy about this house concert coming up at SoulSpeak this Saturday. I hope it goes well. I hope people come. I’m a little nervous. It’s been a while. Gulp.

It’ll be good, though. Even if it’s just me and a couple friends. It’s all good when it comes to music.

I had a strange and mythically lovely long weekend, camping with friends from out of the country. We camped on the Cowichan River in the first really warm weather of spring, with the dark discordant note from the death by drowning of a young man a few miles upriver from us, and the consequent constant whine and roar of the search and rescue planes and helicopter. Sad and shocking, though being the Scorpio Blue Moon, something of the sort almost had to happen.

We played a lot of music, shared songs and memories, and you absolutely can’t go wrong with that. And then… I arrived home, to find out that my stepmum Connie had died that morning. Another strange Scorpio Blue Moon ending. I was saddened by the loss of my sweet second mum, who I haven’t seen much since I’ve been an adult, to my regret. I didn’t go for the memorial, but I wrote something that my Mom read for me. This is what I wrote:

Connie lived her life for love. Love of her kids, her family, her friends, and most of all, the great love of her life, my father. She gave and gave, and never complained. Every birthday and Christmas for forty years, I received a card with a caring, personal message, signed “Love, Dad and Connie,” written in her handwriting. I have always felt this woman’s overflowing heart and appreciated it more than I could say. I would regret that I didn’t say so while she could hear me, except I have a feeling she hears me now just fine.

The morning after she passed away, while unpacking from my weekend camping trip, I found the card she sent for my most recent birthday leaning against my suitcase. I feel her strongly with me right now. Still loving, still giving.

I wish I had been able to spend more time with her. I wish I had sent her a card once in a while. Perhaps these words will suffice. Connie, I’m honoured to have had you in my life and grateful for your love and example. Dad had excellent taste in wives.