Me and Joni Mitchell

Malaspina Galleries -- nature's art We are eight. Eric Bibb, his beautiful wife of only two weeks, and six strangers. We are a small group. Diverse. And, except for myself and one other woman, all are musicians.

I feel out of place. Different. Other than.

Outside my comfort zone, who am I?

I am the same.

An artist seeking soul resting at the ocean floor. A mystique, seeking the way within.

We spent yesterday writing a song. Together.

In unison there is no separate voice. No different. No other.

There only is. This place. One. All. together.

There is only the song.


It was a day of amazing grace.

A day where spirits soared and hearts opened up to all that can be when we let the muse have free reign.

There is all that appears when we get out of the way of being anywhere other than where we are. Present. Visible. Vulnerable. One. Separate and together.

There is only the song.

The invitation was to write a song. Together.

The invitation is to create. Always to create.

The opportunity is to perform. Tomorrow night. At Eric’s concert here on Gabriola Island at The Haven.

This is a stretch for me. To perform.

the view from The Haven
I remember the last time I performed in front of a live audience. Just me. Singing my song.

I was hopeful. Excited. I wanted to sing. Out loud. Clear and high. I wanted to be seen. Living out loud. Wild and free.

I was sweet sixteen.

Starry eyes and hopeful heart.

I wanted my song to beat in the hearts of everyone.

The Circle Game. Me and Joni Mitchell.

I sang my song.

Joni Mitchell and me.

I won. Runner up.

I searched the audience.

I wanted them to be there. I wanted them to hear me. I wanted them to know, I can do this. I am not who you tell me I am. I am me. Worthy. Lovable and free.

They didn’t make it.

I never did find out why. They didn’t make it.

They forgot, they said. They ran out of time.

How do parents forget their child? Standing on a stage. Wishin’ and hopin’ they’d be there?

How do they run out of time when all the time in the world will never bring back that moment when a child stood, hopeful, waiting for them to come?

It took me a long time to forgive them.

A long time to start wishin’ and hopin’ again.

Perhaps I still am.

Wishin’ and hopin’
someone, anyone will turn up
and give my answers to me.

Time to quit wishin’ upon a distant them

Time to start countin upon me
to turn up.

To be.

Night falls at The Haven
All that I’m meant to be when I quit looking for my answers in sad forgotten places long ago.

time to stretch beyond the measure of time holding me back and step into the shoes I fill so gracefully when I step freely through the open door of today shining brightly, waiting for me to embrace beauty within and all around me.

I walk in beauty now. Beauty lies before me. Beauty lies above me behind and below me.I don’t remember where I heard those words.

But I know. Oh yes I know.

This is my song.