Open Mic and Lone Stars

It's great to be in Austin again! I had a fun week teaching at the UT Longhorn Harp Camp and another great week of relaxation here in one of my favorite cities. Despite a little heat exhaustion, many tacos were consumed, music was played, siestas were taken, bats were watched, and friends and former students were seen. Being here is a joy.

I got to attend 3 open mics in these last days which, to be honest, is 3 more than I had ever been to before. In the "live music capital of the world," it seems fitting to let Austin be my first impression of the open mic.

There really is an art to this thing. I wasn't playing- only just admiring. And as I was reflecting on and enjoying both the poetry and music, it's hard not to find a metaphor in all of it.

The open mic is set up to be a safe place to try out new and old music and poetry, improvised and otherwise. The acts that I was inspired by were those whose hearts were honest and vulnerable, not trying to show off pretend to be the king of the hill. What a demand for major guts, though. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out on a limb like that. You've got to be comfortable in your own skin, and you can't pretend to be anyone else but yourself up there-- total authenticity.

It's about being:

Vulnerable
Honest
Humble
Authentic
Proud to be who you are


My favorites were:

1. My singer songwriter friend Benjamin Aggerbæk in his element... singin' his heart out and ripping it up on guitar.

2. A man with his two grown daughters celebrating his birthday. He was on guitar and vocals, and his girls were backing him up with their own killer voices. Go family! Loved it.

3. Two women (lovers) who did 4 short spontaneous/ improvised poetry pieces. Beautiful.

So. I'm now officially a fan of the open mic. And reminded that I want to live my life like I was playing in an open mic.

I'm now headed to Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Michigan to teach harp for a couple of weeks. Shifting gears and temperatures. Hm..... can't wait to be where it's cool. Thanks for the good time Austin. Hope to see you again soon.

Arizona Moons

Thoughts after the "Moon" Concerts in Arizona these past weeks:

There's something fairly new for me that I'm digging: playing my own tunes. This is changing my entire outlook on my playing and performing. I've got to do this more...

Thanks to those of you who came up after these shows to encourage me with your appreciation.

Mountains or water?

I was talking to the guy next to me on the plane from France last week, and he asked me whether I prefer living close to the mountains or the water.

I have to laugh about this question now, as I'm in West Texas considering to move here. Odessa. The beauty in Odessa is in its people, as I was told yesterday. And the sunsets. Those are two positive things: good people and sunsets. No mountains, though. No water.

I woke up in my hotel bed this morning and was thinking about how I've had mountains, water, glorious nature, and beautiful scenery for the past 3 years. I think I might just have enough reserves to be okay here for a while. I was sipping my coffee at the complimentary breakfast and remembered that not long ago, I would wake to the sun rising over the Mediterranean. I would sit on the doorstep of where I lived in the mountains and let my dog lick me awake as I would enjoy a cappuccino.

Why, then?

There are some things in my life that I'd like to organize. This is a topic to be explored over a cup of tea or cold beer, so give me a ring and let's hang out. Anyway, Odessa would be a good place to get my bearings after flying by the seat of my pants for 3 years.

And... there is an amazing school program set up by a lady named Reba MacHaney which involves more than 30 harp students and 30 harps in the school district there. She is retiring and leaving the program in hopes that it can continue to grow and bloom. Anyone that knows me can tell you that this would be right up my alley. I'd be surrounded by harps and fun people all day. And getting paid for it... such a novel concept; I can't really even imagine what this would be like.

So. The jury is still out, but it looks like I might be getting to know some good people and some nice sunsets.

And I thought I had changed.

Back in Phoenix now... My 3 year old niece uses the word "mortified." My 1 year old nephew says, "Good job Megs," after I play the harp. My parents have iTunes playlists. They both sit down on Tuesday nights to watch (AND VOTE FOR BY TEXT MESSAGE) American Idol. My best friend is slightly giddy about a guy she just met. My brother quit his job to spend a month with his wife in Thailand. My sister buys her produce at Trader Joe's, and my brother in law is golfing in Scotland.

And I was worried that it was only I that had changed.

It wasn't until I went on an early morning run, when I smelt the desert, when I tasted the brittle, dry air and felt my thirsty skin try to sweat... that's when I knew I was home.

A tout la gloire de la France

And then there were 3. And then there was one. And now there's not even a van. The tour is officially over.

And the official count for traffic violations is in:
5 tickets in 4 countries (It would have been 6 in 5 countries had it not been for CJ's dreadlocks).

And only 2 broken strings between the 6 of us. What is a broken string between friends, though?

We spent our last few days together in Versailles, France. This was new ground for each of us, and holy moly... did we ever enjoy the marvelous days there. Sunburns to prove it. One day was devoted entirely to seeing the palace and the gardens of former French royalty. In the entrance to the grand palace reads: "Tout la gloire de la France." All the glory of France. Here is my suggested playlist for the day:

For the 2.5 hours you have to wait in line just to get in:
Benjamin Aggerbæk
Pearl Jam
Stravinsky (Petrushka)

For the inside of the palace:
Bach (cello suites, especially the 6th)

For the gardens:
Sigur Ros

Tout la gloire de la France. It was making me think of this thing someone once said about not loosing heart nor hope in this world. He wrote: "Fix your eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen, for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." He proposes that in order not to loose hope in this dingy world, we are to concentrate on unseen things. But I was thinking, while gazing at all the glory of France wrapped up into the splendor of a square mile, that it helps to actually look at the seen sometimes. If we see art, if we have the capacity to create beauty, if we have the desire and ability to conceptualize and build a masterpiece... and all this as humans... how much more? How much more? How much more is the glory of Him who said "Let light shine out of darkness." The glory of France will fade away. That's hard to believe after seeing it's beauty remain 250 years later. The glory we can't see now doesn't fade. Perspective.

In all this glory-pondering, I also decided to try my best not to be back in Europe again (in springtime, at least) without a sweetheart... despite the beautiful weather and "all the glory of France" wrapped up into a few square miles, I'm a hopeless romantic, and found myself melanchol-ily spending the afternoon in the grass in the gardens of Versailles.... toute seule. Mais c'est pas grave.

I wanted to say thank you, girls: CJ, Cat, Louise, and K Phanie. It was a pleasure to meet you, to play music together, and to bond over all of those cheese sandwiches. You each are lovely, and I miss you already.

And then there were four.

We are down to four now... the rest of the tour is gonna be finished as a duo. And rather than let some really negative energy sit around in this blog, I'm just going to say that you reap what you sow, and that the four of us are doing our best to live & learn, and forgive. There is a reason that the Golden Rule is "golden"... it's really valuable and reliable: "Do to others what you would have them do to you."

After parting ways in Amsterdam, it took us only about an hour and 27 minutes to go from being stressed out and angry to relaxed and in complete vacation mode. We ended up spending 3 nights there.... cruising around town on rental bikes, checking out Van Gogh, eating really delectable food, paddle-boating, sipping espressos, and recovering from the craziness of being on tour. We joke about how we've now run away FROM the circus. It's good. I feel like I'm myself again. I don't think you could have wiped the grin off my face as I wizzed around aimlessly on my bike. And the sunshine-- auh. Light is sweet, and it's pleasing for the eyes to see the sun.

And what great gals to be with! Cat, CJ, and Louise are some of the best traveling companions I've known. So easy and simple and hilarious. I love these ladies.

From Amsterdam, we popped on over to Belgium and stayed two nights already. Belgium: chocolate, waffles, beer. We're in Brugge, which is a cutey-pie town and a spectacular example of how refreshing spring can be. Great for busking, I might add! My poor harp... he's been wheeled through more cobblestone in the past two days than he never knew existed. But I think he secretly enjoyed it, as did I. With my earnings, I bought a lot of gifts involving cocoa, some treats for my niece and nephew, some harp sheet music, and a round of beer for the girls.

Next: Versailles. And then begins my journey back to Arizona. I feel like I'm having culture shock already; it's hard to believe that I'll be in Phoenix a week from today .... I'm not sure how I feel about this...

How are you Copin', Hagen?

I'm hagen in there. I like Copenhagen. I feel like I'm in Austin. But I'm in Copenhagen.

And I'm not just saying that to say that. Of all the cities we've passed through on the tour so far, I'd love to go back and spend a month in Rome, a week on the beach in Gaeta, Italy, a weekend in Trier, Germany, and another afternoon in Switzerland. But I could actually consider living in Copenhagen.

The city was strumming my pain with its fingers, singing my life with its words, killing me softly with its song. During our 38-hour stay, we saw a load of live music. Every other person we met was introduced as, "Hey, this is my friend so-and-so. They're a singer songwriter," followed by, "Hey, you're a harpist? Come to Copenhagen; there'd be a lot of opportunities for you here."

But I loved it not just because of the (tempting) music scene. Not just because of the crazy language or the lack of ugly people. Not for the unique, "just right" architecture. Not because guys greet each other with a kiss on the lips, nor because the people seem pretty happy and down to earth. It's because there's something in the air there that put a welcomed kick to my stride. Like the air in Austin.

I had a perfectly happy 38 hours there. I remembered this list of "life goals" I made a long while ago. One of them was that I wanted to play my harp with a band in a rowdy, cramped pub in Ireland with people singing and having a good time and forgetting that life sucks sometimes. Well, we weren't in Ireland, but I'm going to put a very content check mark next to that one anyway.

Other thoughts:

Someone once believed: "Better is one day in God's courts than a thousand days in [Copenhagen]." (Psalm 86:10) Hm. Those must be some courts.

Question of the day in the van: "When (or how many countries ago) was your last proper shower?" The winner is going to remain anonymous, going on day 5 and 4 countries (due to lack of hot water, time, and/or.)