Jonatha & Swirly @ Squam

Special things happened way out there in the woods at Squam Art Workshops.

It started with Jonatha Brooke playing a few songs at the bonfire the first evening. Shelley Barratt, introduced me to the music of Jonatha Brooke 15 years ago. Songwriting with Jonatha is what clenched the whole Squam deal for me.  I’d been thinking about going to Squam for a while because in Lugano I don’t have any girlfriends. I miss talking and laughing and hanging out the way women do. Squam seemed like a good place to do that; I thought I might meet members of my tribe.  Then there was the songwriting day with Jonatha, so I registered.

On that first night at Squam we gathered in the dark around a bonfire. She sang the song Shel had played for me that Fall evening 15 years earlier in downtown Boulder.  Here’s part of it:

That is one little woman making an amazing amount of music out there in an open field all by herself.  To give you a sense of how much music she’s making — I was across the bonfire and field from her, behind a row of people, shooting this with a Canon camera. This woman, all by herself in the dark, inhaling black bonfire smoke, totally rocked. Her fireside renditions of Sweetest Angel and Taste of Danger were as good as the recordings.  When an artist is as good live as recorded, that’s when you know they’re the real deal.  Plus, she’s the funkiest dresser I’ve ever known. My kingdom to be able to pull off funk. Just never could do it. I can do elegant, but never could do funk. Oh for the funky of Jonatha Brooke! It is out of this world.

So I was intimidated and totally amped for songwriting class the next day.  Here’s the approach and the building where class was…
A group of us gathered, greeted one another.  They had guitars.  Lots and lots of guitars. Uh-oh.  Despite years of lessons, I can play nothing but my voice, and it’s been a long time since I’ve raised that in song.

Jonatha has a great story about writing her first song for a class assignment at Amherst College. Here she is playing it. All I could think of (after the shock of how complicated, sophisticated and brilliant it is) was the Professor. In 12 years of teaching I’ve known a few moments like he must’ve felt hearing or seeing that song… when a student has found him- or herself, his or her calling, in class. It is such a joy to see. I am happy that Professor had that experience, and Jonatha, too.

And then it was our turn. We split into pairs and had some recordings to use if we liked. My partner and I sat on this bench sort-of stunned. Definitely stuck. We picked a topic. We shared phrases and poems we liked, we picked the piece of music we’d use. Mostly, though, we sat.

Putting lyrics to the music was much, much harder than I thought it would be. And so we sat. Staring at this wall… saying, “Um” a surprising number of times.

I looked at this clock a lot, too…

But… wait. Go back to the wall, will you? There’s a little brown block perched above the bulletin board. What is it? It doesn’t quite fit.

I was supposed to be songwriting. Instead I sat squinting to make out the words on it…

It said… “This is a Gift For YOU.”

I looked right over my shoulder, then left. I knew it wasn’t… it couldn’t be… for me because… all these ladies here? They don’t know me (except Helen and Morgan, and they were off making art journals or something). I was pretty sure it wasn’t for my still-stumped songwriting partner, either.

It was Jonatha’s class scheduled all day in that building, and, you know, she got da funk… so I figured it was for her.

“Hey!” I called to her as she walked out to see how we were doing, “I think somebody left something here for you.” I nodded over to the package.

“Ooooooooooohhh…” said the Funky Rock Star who speaks fluent French and can pull off an apron with lime green felt balls over blue jeans.

“Who found that? Did you find it?”   “It’s for you!”

She grabbed it and put it in my hands before I could protest, and it was clear I was going to, so she said, “It’s not for me but I know what it is and packages just like it have been left all over the world… in Japan… in Texas…”

…and that is the very Swirly story of how I landed #26 of 100 Ordinary Sparkling Moments by Spectacular Swirly Girl Christine Mason Miller.  It is beautiful.  I sat in the sun today reading it and am struck by something.  It’s why I haven’t posted here much lately.

There comes a time, after the sad stories have been told, after you’ve rebuilt your life, after all that… when it’s just time to go be the Grown Up you’re going to be.  That’s where I am now.  This blog was originally, years ago, about heartbreak, and journeys and hope and healing and all those things.  Now it’s time to go be a powerful adult in the world.  It’s a very different story, isn’t it?

In reading the book today, I think I’ve found one of my tribe.  She wrote:

“I am inspired by people all over the world, some of whom I talk to every week, many of whom I’ll most likely never meet.  It is in the stories they tell of realizing a dream, the work they share with the world, that is uniquely their own, the passion they cannot help but follow… it is all these things that help me believe my own dreams are worth tapping into and making a priority.”

And I thought nobody there knew me, that there was no way the book was meant for me!   It is perfect.  Thank you.