Here's to Harmony

The words “in harmony with humanity” have been going through my head. I think of them as I take a walk, call people, and just observe others throughout the day.

It’s so easy to judge. So easy to think “what a jerk,” or “such bad manners,” or even worse, pity someone. Pity is sooooo arrogant.

We watch TV and see the beautiful people with scripted lines and sculpted bodies and we subliminally interpret that as “normal” and “acceptable.” Like thinking people on the beach should look like the actors on Baywatch or something. Then you go to the beach and wonder what happened.

Being in harmony means adjusting our expectations. Looking beneath the surface. And realizing what we see is just a small part of the whole. I try to remember that someone who cuts me off on the road may be in a hurry to an ill loved one’s side. Or the checker who moves slowly may have been up all night with a crying baby. Even the lady in the park talking on her phone while her dog runs loose and terrorizes others may have a story. Or not. But she’s a human being who is more than her momentary irresponsible behavior. My being irritated at her only agitates me. I get the ulcer, not her.

My being at peace with imperfection is a much healthier state of mind and body. And it’s my choice, day by day, moment by moment. Digest the beauty. Spit out the ugly. Love unconditionally. God is watching. And He is on our side.

Memorable Musical Moments

I can’t imagine what my life would have been like without music in my heart. My mother played piano, harp, and violin, and I’m sure I heard music while in the womb. Now, there are studies that show the value of hearing music even before you are born.

I had my hands on the piano keys before I could walk. And, I probably sang before I could talk.

I took traditional piano lessons, but I was not patient with note reading. It was much quicker to watch the teacher’s hands and play by ear. I took guitar lessons and learned to read chords. From then on, I could express myself musically, and I only read notes when I had to.

My most memorable concert experience was seeing Elton John when I was 14. He ROCKED that piano! I bought sheet music and learned his songs note-for-note. I will confess that I am also a Barry Manilow fan (in this video I am playing Barry's song, "Ready to Take a Chance Again"), and I love Neil Sedaka. Y’all don’t know what you are missing! Them boyz can whip those chords around like a cotton candy machine!

In 1992, I entered a contest to sing the "National Anthem" at Dodger Stadium, and I won! That experience led me to meeting Denny Martin, a local music producer, and recording songs in his studio. He was “instrumental” in teaching me how to write my own songs. He moved his studio to Nashville, and I have loved recording with him there. The musicians collaborate and “play” off of each other. The process is very organic. And I learned expressions like “y’all” and “throw it in the deep fryer.” Somehow I became a country singer-songwriter. I guess God gave this California girl a twanger. But that does NOT mean that the songs I write are "three chords and a cloud of dust."

Denny introduced me to #1 hit songwriter, the late, great Alan O’Day of "Undercover Angel," "Angie Baby," and "Rock 'n Roll Heaven" fame, and I had the privilege of writing songs, taking piano lessons, and performing live with him. I carry his legacy forward with a renewed passion for music and a desire to encourage others to follow their musical dreams.

My husband (Bob) was my band partner for many years before we were a couple. We make music together. It brought us together and it keeps us together. And, I was just reminded today that Alan O’Day sang “At Last” for our “first dance” song. I’ll post that video one day. It’s still too soon after Alan’s passing last May for me to watch it without going into the ugly cry.

My mom and I taught my children songs on the piano. Now I teach my grandchildren. My two-year-old grandson is already composing. Ok, it’s kind of banging and making dragon sounds, but it’s a very impassioned start!

Music has been more than a lifelong companion for me. It has been a place I can retreat to when the real world is stressing me out. Music is where everything makes sense. Like any long-term relationship, sometimes it’s work. But mostly it’s a little butterfly on my shoulder reminding me, “I’m still here.” I hear you. Ok music, you have my attention. And I’m going to share you with everyone who is open to having you in his or her life.

Life requires us to take chances. Are you ready? You get what you get when you go for it! Here’s to the next step on this harmonious journey. Let's take it together!

Here's to the Whole Chicken

I think too much of my world view is formed by Facebook. Less so from TV, as I can discern pretty quickly what is going to drag me down. The black-and-white political posts on Facebook show that people care about this country, and they are passionate about fighting for it. How did that turn into fighting each other? Can we fight for our country and love each other at the same time? There must be a more loving alternative to all this right-and-left bashing.

No matter who our president is, there are many who believe he is corrupt and coming from ego, not love. A well-known blogger and author, Jim Altucher, checked into what it takes to run for a political office and could find no way to persevere without being false or lying in some way. In my experience, I've seen that in people who succeed in corporations too.

Books, movies, and television shows are rich with stories about the rare person of character who craftily navigates a sea of sharks to altruistically embody a position of power. We love underdogs who won't sacrifice their character. But how does that play out in real life? Do we really know our politicians? We know what they say, something about their behavior, how they vote, and what state our country is in. People are suffering and we want someone to blame.

I believe most Americans want to make this country better and are willing to sacrifice for the sake of the whole. I believe most of these bashing Facebook posts come from anger at injustice. We used to rely on the media to give us the facts. Now we have a much harder time getting at the truth. And it's frustrating. That is fuel for the bash-fest.

I wonder if any of these political Facebook posts have swayed anyone's opinion. I doubt it. So they say "here's where I stand."

Well, here's where I stand. I love my country. I love my fellow Americans. I believe in honesty, compassion, and respect for life. I believe in doing my part by working hard to get the facts and voting accordingly. People who do not do that, and rely on the media to inform them, are likely to be misled.

I like how one of my Facebook friends put it. "I'm not right-wing or left-wing; I'm for the whole chicken." Indeed.

What are you really saying?

I went to a new doctor yesterday and I was uncomfortable with how our conversation went. It got me to thinking about things people say, questions they ask, and why they are asking. In essence: Manners 101.

A few examples from yesterday. The doctor asked me to stand on the scale. I don't care to weigh myself right now and I don't want to know. Why? None of your business. (what I should have said) Instead, I stood with my back to the scale and said "would you please not tell me my weight? I don't want to know." I think he made a comment about me not being fat, but I'm not sure. Then he said,"you do appreciate how you look, right?" Huh? What was he really saying? Was he complimenting me? Was he concerned that I might be anorexic or have a distorted body image? I took the bait and said "yes, it's just that my weight has fluctuated lately and I don't want to know." I wish I'd said "why do you ask?" Must I justify a simple preference?

Then, he asked me what I do for a living. I had written down "writer," as that is what I've spent the majority of my career doing. That progressed into a discussion about also being a songwriter. He asked if I have made any money at it. (annoying and nosy) He asked how songs get published and suggested ways of promoting songs on the Internet. (thanks, I'm an idiot who needs advice from an objective non-musician who has never written or pitched a song) I gently tried to give him some idea of how it works, and he persisted in suggesting ways to "make it easier" by creating a website on which songwriters would post songs and artists could listen to them. Um, yeah, it exists and it's called "Taxi." When this ignorant, condescending conversation was going nowhere fast, he asked what my husband does. (I don't like that question because it feels like a way of "qualifying" me by what kind of man I caught) When I told him, he dug himself deeper with "oh so he has the more stable job." (implying what, that I'm a slacker?) I said, "he's also a musician." He laughed and said "oh, both of you!" Don't worry doc, I can pay your bill. What was really going on there? I think he is probably a socially challenged person who was trying to get to know me and stepped in every pothole possible. I don't think he meant any harm. But oh how I wish Miss Manners could have been there to instruct him on basic social graces. They can be learned! Now I'm glad that I didn't have to disrobe for this exam. I don't think that would have gone well at all.

One more example. I had a horrible job that I knew was not going to work from day one. I left after a week. Here's what not to say about that. "I guess you have the luxury of quitting since your husband has a job." What??? How do you know what my options are? Maybe I'm a closet millionaire. Maybe I have such faith that I believe I don't deserve abuse and God will make it right financially. And, are my finances any of your business? No. A more gracious response would be 1) empathy (how disappointing) and 2) support (I'm sure there is another opportunity for you). Even laughter would be ok -- as in "wow, there are sure some crazy people out there!"

I don't know people's motives. And what they think of me and why is none of my business. But I wonder if people are aware of what they are putting out there. There are other options besides zeroing in on my status or giving me unrequested advice. Go easy. Share a similar story of your own. Ask what kind of food I like. Ask if I have any fun plans for the summer. Tell me about a new activity, or store, or restaurant in an effort to be helpful. These are all warm and safe topics.

And one more thing while I'm on this rant. When a person states a preference, don't flat out disagree. "Oh, I hate Clint Eastwood movies." In a new relationship you are trying to find common ground, not debate. It makes you look insecure. Like you have to claim your power, position, and be "right" from the beginning. It sets up conflict. It does not make you look strong. Grace and restraint make you look strong.

I can't speak for the doctor, but the "warm and safe topics" hold if his motive was to build a rapport. I have another doctor who told me to be sure to get a massage after my mammogram, offering that his wife found a 50% off coupon on TravelZoo. That was helpful! My response? I suggested he offer to buy massages for his patients. Touche! Maybe I was a little brazen, but I felt we had a rapport and I could mess with him a little. After all, he had just investigated me thoroughly (ugh). And, during that process, he had commented on how sparkly I was. It took me a minute to realize he was talking about my toenail polish. Whew, that was a close one!

I guess I was raised to believe that talking about money, religion, politics, and a person's "status" is rude. Maybe not everyone was raised that way. So I'll do my best to demonstrate politeness, till you tick me off. Then I'll invite you to read my blog. Thank you. I feel better now.

Living in Truth is Risky Business

I'd have to say that the best moments of my life have resulted from taking a leap of faith -- a risk to stand on life's stage while the demons of discouragement laughed and threw tomatoes from the seats. The most unhappy moments of my life were often the results of holding back, playing it safe, and not being honest with myself. The ninth commandment (in essence) says "thou shalt not lie." That includes the lies we tell ourselves. And those have added more unhappiness than any lies others may have told me.

An example of a risk worth taking was my foray into singing. I stood on a stage in my 20s and dared to sing at Karaoke night. My knees were shaking. My voice barely came out. I had no idea how to hold or use a microphone. A friend came on stage to help me stay standing. I chose to face that fear. I muscled through. Over time I became more comfortable because I just kept doing it. Soon after, I read in the newspaper that the Conejo Valley Chamber of Commerce was holding a contest, and the winner would sing the National Anthem at Dodger Stadium. Entering the contest required a demo tape of me singing the Anthem and a story about what the Dodgers meant to me. I thought "this is a long shot -- but why not?" A friend at work had a home studio where I recorded the song -- complete with my own piano playing -- in Eb, no less. Writing about the Dodgers was easy as I had attended many games with my family. I could quote players' names, stats, etc. I was sitting at my desk at work when I got the call that I won! I screamed! I panicked! I had to get ready to sing in front of a stadium full of people! I decided I needed a demo tape to hand out if anyone "discovered" me, and a work friend referred me to Denny Martin, a local producer. Denny introduced me to songwriting. And I've loved this singing and songwriting journey I've been on for the past 20 years. All because I took a chance.

The lies I told myself are much more painful to reveal. They were usually reasons I should not take a chance, not step up, or an effort to fit into some role that I was not suited for and not passionate about. I did this a lot in my career. I became a "meet the deadline" adrenaline machine. My soul was lost in edits and rewrites that served the client's ego but not their true goal. I became tangled in a no-win situation. To speak up was career suicide; and not speaking up resulted in resentment. I gave away my power. I wanted all the perks without the responsibility -- without the risk. It used to work. Then, suddenly, it just didn't work anymore.

What makes one person a mailroom clerk and another a vice president? What are all these games people play to climb the corporate ladder? It's exhausting to think about. I do know that whatever role you are in, you can transcend it by putting your unique soul and love into it. I watched Frederee, who was a "maid" by profession, transcend that role into becoming my second mom. I'm sure that required taking risks. She was authentically herself and I instinctively trusted her.

What's the lesson? Taking risks is worth it. Being truthful with yourself keeps your soul's garden healthy and stops the seeds of resentment from taking over. It may not be comfortable. However, in my experience, making comfort the goal is an exercise in frustration. So I bid an official "good bye" to corporate America. You served me well for many years. I met some great people and I gained a plethora of valuable experience. But you are my past. Self-employment is my future. I am a singer, songwriter, writer, and a teacher. God made me this way, and He's got my back. The secret is being brave, and being truthful. No more false self, security seeking, or people pleasing. Just taking one brave step at a time. In love. In truth.

Leggo Your Ego

Who hasn't been the recipient of someone yelling, "Hey! Watch me!" Maybe it's a child about to dive into a pool for the first time. Or the 2001st time. Or Gerald O'Hara in "Gone With the Wind" who yelled to his wife as he prepared to jump a fence on his horse, "Ellen! Watch me take this one!" Then there are the millions of musicians-in-the-making -- those who try out for "American Idol" or "The Voice" and invite you to every performance -- "Hey, watch me!" And "Hey, listen to me!" I want to be seen! I want to be heard! I have something to say! I matter -- please pay attention to me!

Is that what blogging is about? Or writing books? Or telling stories via video on YouTube? What's the difference between ego -- "Hey, tell me I'm cool," and connection -- "Hey, have you ever felt like this?"

When I have wanted to watch people, my motivation has always been connection. Whether it's pasting on a fake smile because I've heard it or seen it 100 times already, or whether I'm truly fascinated by what I am hearing or watching because it resonates with me -- my thought is not a judgmental "Are you any good?" My thought is "I care about you, and what you are communicating matters to me."

This is harder today with so many people having access to my attention. I have to pick and choose. I can't pay attention to everybody. There are too many people. So I "demo" things -- videos, TV shows, songs. At the first impression, I decide if I'm going to add it to my list of things I pay attention to, or pass. It's kind of like dating. My filter is not about quality. It's about what speaks to me (if it's a stranger), and who I want in my life.

I heard a story once about "Joe Special." That's the kid whose parents told him he is more special than anyone else. He cuts in lines. He cuts you off on the freeway. He yells at the waiter. The moral of the story is that instead of telling your child he is more special than anyone else, tell him that he is more special TO YOU than anyone else. Value does not come from how many people think you are special. It does not come from how many Facebook friends you have or Twitter followers you attract. Value is not a numbers game. People who play that game look like the guy with the earphones spinning the sign on the street corner. They are seeking popularity. It's not value. It's ego.

I don't want to be that person. I want to be authentically myself. Tell my stories through blogging, songs, and whatever else strikes my fancy. If who I am speaks to you, we connect. If you are an axe murderer or a psychopath, our connection will stay distant. Self-preservation is the first law of nature. I don't have a magic formula for anything. I just have my heart to share. And so do you. I hope by sharing mine, I inspire you to share yours. Speak your truth. Let your voice be heard. Trust in attraction rather than promotion. People love to tell their stories. I, for one, volunteer to listen. To watch. To care. I dare you to put yourself -- not your ego -- out there.

Music, Alan, and Me

If you are an artist, chances are that you are familiar with the struggle between doing your art and being "practical." In a rush of over-practicality a few years ago, I gave some valuable music books of mine to the library. Now I regret it. Still reeling from an unwelcome job layoff, I revisit the idea of making a living making music with cynicism. Ugly words like "as if" and "how old am I?" and "haven't I been to this movie before?" come to mind. That's not the good guy talking. It's discouragement.

And then my mind got a kick in the gut. My dear friend and music mentor of 20 years, Alan O'Day, passed away on May 17 at age 72 from cancer. Even in the midst of battling the disease with grueling chemo and radiation treatments, Alan wrote the title song for a movie ("You Don't Say") and watched his song "Nascar Crazy" finally hit the charts after five years of pitching it. He died at age 72 with a song on the charts and more songs on the shelf. He died too soon. His work was still kicking, and will live on for many years. I'm young (in comparison), healthy, talented, and inspired anew by my friend. He had chutzpa, determination, tenacity, joy, and a giving spirit. He not only encouraged himself, he encouraged others freely and without charge. He never had a "day job." Music was his entire career. Not many of us artist types can say that.

The music was always in me. I started piano lessons in first grade and could always hear when my classmates were off pitch. I took guitar lessons at age 10. I had my first on-stage experience in college and caught the performing bug. I studied acting with Walter Koenig (Star Trek's "Checkov") and chose to sing as part of a classroom exercise. The room went quiet, and I was regaled with praise that I could "really sing." I had no idea. So I took singing lessons. Karaoke singing about knocked me out -- my stage fright was paralyzing. So I stayed with it just to conquer my fear. My first gig was with Greg Barton at the Thousand Oaks Seafood Parlor singing for happy hour. Then I won a contest to sing the "National Anthem" at Dodger Stadium. I decided I should have a "demo tape" on hand, and a coworker referred me to producer Denny Martin. I asked him about songwriting, which I had always wanted to learn, and he took me to workshops, encouraging my efforts with "come on in, the water's fine." Through Denny I met Alan O'Day, and pursued him as a co-writer like the naive little wannabe I was. He was kind, always. We wrote a beautiful song together called "The Other Side." And a friendship was born. We performed together at coffee houses, restaurants, house parties, and clubs in L.A. and Nashville. It was thrilling to sing back up on his hits "Undercover Angel," "Rock 'n Roll Heaven," and "Angie Baby." I recorded his song "Please Don't Believe Me" and he sang back-up for me. Really. Alan O'Day singing back-up for me. And he did it while going through cancer treatment for Melanoma.

Our last gig together was April 29, 2012, at a Methodist church in West L.A. This came about via my gardener, Sam Dote, who was always looking for venues at which Bob and I could share our music. The church was near Alan and Yuka's house, and I suggested we add Alan to our performance. It was magical. Alan told me that day that I seemed to have "a weight" on my soul. I did. Losing my job hit me hard. Had I shared more with him, he probably would have encouraged me to rethink my music. Ever the spiritual encourager, I just wanted him and Yuka to check out that church, hoping it would lead them to Jesus. Their souls were on my heart, just as my artist's soul was on Alan's heart. We looked out for each other. We wanted the best for each other.

During the last weeks of Alan's life, Yuka asked about the minister of that church, Gary Oba. She wanted to know if he would pray for Alan and officiate at the funeral. He did. I'm grateful to have been used to make that connection. I'm especially grateful to Sam Dote for being the conduit by which this connection happened.

What I learned from Alan is that everyone matters. Actually, I learned that from my mom, and Alan reinforced it. The waiter, the pharmacy clerk, your hair stylist, the wanna be singer/songwriter, and your gardener. Alan connected lives. His soul was reachable. He gave freely. He loved life. He helps me remember to kick discouragement in the butt and appreciate life, health, talent, and other people. Thank you Alan. See you in rock 'n roll heaven.