I've been running from responsibility, hoping that someone else could do my life's work for me.  I've been putting up a good front, like a bird trying to convince the world that it isn't prey.  I do it well. But if you look closely, you can see that I'm vulnerable.
I think this is true for everybody, by the way.  Is there anybody out there who isn't a total mess?  We are doing the best we can, surviving from day to day, and making the most of every moment we have.
When I was in Moab a couple of weeks ago, I stayed in a lovely place, which I shared with other folkies. I walked everywhere I went, sang when I wanted to, talked with friends in cafes, and received instruction from people I respect.  The sense of community, friendliness, tidiness, and peace of the situation all had a profound effect on me.  It was a week spent in...near perfection.  While there, I felt felt such a palpable swelling of love in my chest that I thought I would burst. It hit me many times, and I felt like I was staggering.  I assumed that it was the feeling of something missing.
I listened in on a songwriting workshop, where the group was asked to think on the term "wabi sabi."  This is the name of the thrift store in Moab (my favorite).  But it describes a concept of embracing the imperfect.  Wabi sabi is the old wagon wheel you use to decorate your front yard.  It is the antique dessert mold that you proudly hang on the wall in your kitchen, even though it hasn't molded a dessert since your Granny's days.  It is the gap between your front teeth, that you could get fixed, but it would somehow make you less interesting if you did.  It is my 1920's "frankencottage," tacked together by many hands over the years, but charming in its own way.
I have felt overwhelmed by all the imperfection around me, and the fact that I can't even begin fix it.  There isn't time or energy to do so.  I have run from it.  What if I ran towards it instead?
I am wabi sabi.

Here I am, coming to you live from Moab Folk Camp.  My 4th year at this camp, though this year I am doing the ala carte version of it.  Fewer classes, more down time that I can spend as I like.  It seems that what I like today is to be a slug.  I have spent the day doodling on my guitar, writing a bit, catching up on e-mail and just hanging out.  I'm feeling very thoughtful today.  I suppose that's not much different from how I usually feel.  Maybe more of it than usual.
I am taking two classes.  Swing guitar, with Dave Steward, which is a total blast and I can't believe I haven't tried this until just now.  It could be that I now have the chops for it, which I didn't have before.  I am totally in love with these three finger chords, and I'm moving them up and down the neck and back again and it is easy.  Woah!  That is something I haven't ever experienced on the guitar.  I haven't felt this way since I learned how to use a partial capo.  It is a breakthrough.  The other class is a games class with Cosy Sheridan.  I love her songwriting and I love her games.  They really stimulate me to think and to get in that writing mood.  That writing mood where everything seems to come back sounding good, rather than crappy.
The first game was a little bit complicated.  Try to follow this.  You start with a free write, which came from a prompt (which was "I come to this place").  You then take the best two lines of your free write.  The first one you keep for yourself.  The second goes into a pot and gets given to someone else.  You take the line you pull from the pot and then use it with your line to write two 4-line phrases.  Then you choose one of those phrases to keep, put the other one in the pot.  You draw another and then add it to the phrase you kept.  One becomes the chorus, one becomes the verse.  Then, you try to sing your chorus and verse to one of several different pop song melodies that were provided.  Songs like "Yesterday" and "Mandy" or traditional songs like "Red River Valley."  You can choose the verse of one and the chorus of another, if you wish.
So as Cosy starts the exercise, she said something about being drawn to water images lately, and so I started off thinking about water.  I had a line in my part A that was something like floating as a leaf on the water to an unknown destination.  I kept that.  The stuff I got from other people was really not my cup of tea.  Stuff like "I come to this place to hang out with friends and play music."  Not really my idea of a song.  Not really.
Anyway, I did my best to play along.  Instead of using one of her provided pop melodies, I decided to borrow from "Back to Zero" by Dave Morrison, whom I met at Kerrville and saw again at the FAR-West Conference.  Sorry Dave.  I ripped off your song.
Today's exercise was a little different.  We wrote some things that objects and people in our life might have said to us, if they had the opportunity.  A favorite shoe.  My first car.  My wedding dress (which one?)  My house.  An old lover.  Now I'm in a funk. It wasn't somewhere I wanted to go today, but I did.  Now I feel like I need to be cleaning something, but I'm not at home to do so. And I'm feeling deep sadness over lost love, long past, one which I hoped to explore, but time and circumstance did not allow.  I overheard a conversation last night, about grief, and how some new thought churches gloss over the grieving part of life sometimes.  It isn't positive, and we should strive for only positive forces in our lives, right?  But she said that we have to grieve our losses.  Even if we do it away from home, in therapy sessions or with friends.  There are some losses that I never grieved, and I'm thinking that I would like to take the time to do that.  Maybe now.  If not now, soon.
So I'm putting it out there.  I'm going to grieve.  But I'm going to grieve a little differently. I'm going to grieve by painting my house in bold colors.  I'm going to grieve by singing murder ballads.  I'm going to grieve by wearing statement jewelry.  I'm going to grieve by writing my thoughts.  I'm going to grieve in a hot room, sweating my way through dozens of asanas. I'm going to grieve by unapologetically choosing to be alone sometimes.  I'm going to grieve by being a little bit more fabulous and a little less careful.  I'm going to grieve by living my life to its fullest.

Golly, it's been a busy fall season, and I've been doing a lot with work lately, less with music.  But the few music things I have been doing have been very worthwhile.  I've done a couple of house concerts, and I've been working on my next CD release, which is very exciting.  It is a collection of songs about birds, or inspired by birds, and I'm tickled pink with how it is coming together.  This is definitely a very personal project.  Once again, the amazing Ken Kruckenberg is at the helm, and he makes the music sparkle.  A good engineer is worth his/her weight in gold.  I'm in awe of his skills.  The CD will be debuted at a concert/fundraising benefit for Great Salt Lake Audubon, at Holladay United Church of Christ, which is starting to be a favorite venue of mine.
I'm preparing to go to Eugene, Oregon, to attend two conferences next week.  I'm just a wee bit excited, but realized early this week that I didn't have any of my printed materials together.  No post cards, not even business cards.  Yikes.  I was able to throw something together and get it printed, hopefully these will arrive in the mail very soon.  I leave on Sunday for the long drive. 14 hours in a day.  Yeesh.  But I'm not complaining.  I have to get there, somehow, yaknow.

I read back in my blog to see what themes are prevalent in my life, and it seems as though I roll in restless fits, yearning for life to move at a faster pace, then crying out for it to slow down.
It has been a big month.  Many interesting adventures are on the horizon: I'm going to Winfield next week, to perform in the NewSongs Showcase.  My song, Raptor Bird, is a winner in the Children's category.  A lovely surprise.  I was selected to receive a grant to attend the Northwest Booking Conference in Eugene in October, and I'm staying the full week to take in the Far-West Folk Alliance Conference as well.  I hope it will be a great time of meeting people, learning more about how this business works, and getting the tools I need to make it work for me.
And, I have some great challenges at work as well.  At HawkWatch, I'm responsible for the education bird collection, and we just added a Great Horned Owl.  He is lovely, grumpy, and has the most beautiful yellow eyes.  I get lost looking at him.  He needs daily interaction with people, and I am happy to oblige.
I'm working on my next CD, orn-i-tho-lo-gie, which will be bird-themed.  I've been torn about this project, for I have a bunch of songs about raptor ecology that I should record, but I feel like this CD should represent many other species, not just those with talons.  I also feel like it should have a serious mood.  It is still emerging, so who knows what it will be.  Kate MacLeod has offered up one of her songs for the CD, a lovely mood-poem entitled "Ave the Bird."  I am so excited to share this project.  The release party will be at a big fundraiser for Great Salt Lake Audubon, and I hope that many people come to support the organization and bird conservation.

I was cautioned once by a friend that I should be careful about showcases and competitions. At the time, I didn't really know what he meant, but I have a taste of it today.

I just performed in the Susanne Millsaps Performing Songwriter Showcase, which was sort of a dream of mine.  I went to that competition, as a spectator, several years ago and was blown away by what I saw. I  was reduced to tears by the performances I saw, and I recognized myself in the performers on the stage, when I had never seen myself in that way before.  To be invited to perform on that stage was a tremendous honor and probably one of the "great accomplishments" of my life.  I stood up there and I felt like I was giving my very best.  I had no veil of shame, no shyness, no shred of that feeling that somehow it was a mistake that I got there.  I felt like I was doing my job.  It was thrilling.  And then, they announced the "winners."  And I wasn't among them.

It is not that I have disputes with the judges.  I think that the  people who were selected were selected for good reasons.  I probably would have selected them myself.  What I am struggling with is the juxtaposition of this thrilling experience of doing my best and the terrible experience of "losing," all in the same experience.  And it was, for the most part, completely artificial.  In addition to that, I'm not happy with my own ugly feelings during the competition.  For a moment, my relationship with my fellow finalists was not friendly.  I really didn't like that about myself.  The auspices of a contest brought out some ugliness in me.  I am ambitious, but I don't want to be jealous.

I know some people who have won contests.  I have seen doors open for them, but they still have to work it.  Some of the people I know and respect in this business have never been recognized in a contest.  All of them sell CDs, they make a living, people speak highly of them, they have connections all over the world.  None of them need a label or a ribbon to put them there.  They do it with their own smiles, their own lyrics, their own power.  They work hard.

I went to a workshop hosted by Ellis on Friday, and she talked about mission.  We all have a mission when we go up there and sing.  I'm not sure that I've been pursuing a mission, but I think that I could fairly say that it had something to do with seeking approval.  Like me.  Tell me that you love me.  I'll share something of myself, now, please, tell me that I belong. This is no way to live.  I haven't yet found my real "mission statement," but I know that it can't be to beg you to make me a real person.  I'm taking that out of the equation.  I am real, I don't need you to make me real.  I am good, I don't need you to make me good.  I have a product to share with you, and I will bring you joy, if you listen.  It is not my business to wonder whether or not you are listening, or even to care what you think of me.
 
I played a gig this morning and my friend Big Al gave me a big hug and he said "something is different."  Can it be that this mental shift is so immediately apparent?  I don't know, but I'm going to go with it.

I have a dirty little secret.  There's a part of me that wants to dance around with no clothes on.  So, when I heard that there was a naked folk festival, I giggled and looked at my shoes, acted all embarrassed, but a part of me was saying "how do I get that gig?"  I searched their website for insights.  And when they opened up the applications for their emerging songwriter showcase, I wondered if I had any songs that mentioned nudity, freedom, liberty, which would certainly appeal to the judges.  I actually wrote a song mentioning "feeling naked on a stage" for their benefit, then shipped off the entry with equal feelings of anticipation and dread.
Yesterday, I got an alert on my phone.  Sonicbids.  You're status for Avalonfest has been changed to....I could hardly look.  Selected?  Have I been selected?  Because I was checking this on my phone, I knew it would be slow to get the information I wanted, so I decided to look it up later from my computer.  For the next half hour, I thought about what it could mean.  At first, I felt really good.  They are contacting me prior to the deadline, no one makes contact before the deadline unless they are feeling you out.  I tried on the feeling of wanting something, asking for it, and getting it.  I felt exhilarated. 
And then the fear started creeping in.  What if my belly hangs out?  What if I don't look good?  Do I have enough time to lose that 5 pounds I've been fighting with?  What if I feel silly?  Can I go to a festival like this and not go naked?  Do they laugh at the people who decide to wear clothes?  What if I get cold?  Do people bring sweaters?  Is it acceptable to wear a sweater?  Do I have a sweater that looks good, just by itself?  Will the lady at Nordstrom's laugh at me when I ask for a sweater that goes with naked?  What are the rules for a naked folk festival?  How will I avoid sunburn? Will they send me instructions?  This isn't as simple as it seems.
I'm really a very silly girl.
Why on earth would I want to perform in a naked folk festival?  I think it boils down to proving something to myself.  I'm not interested in the nudity, not really.  I want to be the sort of person who is comfortable with myself, no matter what.  I want to be the kind of person who can operate as though love and acceptance surround me at all times, and that I love and accept others in the same way, no matter what.  I'm not that kind of person, but I would like to be.  It is the epitome of self awareness and acceptance.
I finally got to a computer, and logged on to see what they had said...The status had been updated to "Interested."  Ok.  What does that mean?  I opened my page and saw their reply to me, that I was not selected as a finalist, but I am an alternate.  If someone is unable to accept, then they will ask me.  You know, that's not so bad.  If it turns out that they need me, I'll be there, ready to bare it all.

I'm just back from the Kerrville Folk Festival and let me tell you, this year was a hoot.
Last year, I really wanted to be a part of the Kerrville vibe, but I must say, I was much too shy to step out.  I stood at the perimeter of Camp Stupid, feeling like there was no way that I'd ever be invited to play in the circle, and there was no way that I felt entitled enough to ask if I could even sit down near the circle.  I saw KC Clifford and Chris OBrien play at Rouse House New Folk Camp and was so intimidated I wanted to sneak away.  I wasn't confident enough, didn't have my songs memorized, I had good reason to be shy.  I was unprepared!
This year, I was ready.  I confidently joined the circles, and was surprised to find old friends and new ones.  Utah is apparently on the map for the folk crowd, and many folks asked me if I knew Anke, Kate, the Eskelsens, Cosy, TR.  Well, of course I do!  I met some wonderful people who know how to craft a song, and I was in tears more than once.  Charlie Roth gets the award for getting me to blubber the most, by about the second line of the song.  We were all sitting around a kiddie pool, our feet dipped in the gloriously cool water, playing songs.  I toyed with the idea of dunking my new carbon fiber guitar in the pool, just to see what everyone would do.  I didn't do it, though.
I tried new things.  I took a blues guitar workshop.  I tried to play slide guitar!  It may not be my thing.  But I'm committed to getting my thumb to act like it is independent.  It is the one thing that I can do to be a real guitar player.  Steve James is an awesome teacher, and an incredible storyteller.  Mary Flower and Del Rey were also spectacular.
I felt comfortable enough to go to the Steve Gillette song critique circle and the Ballad Tree, twice each.  The feedback I got on my songs was pretty much what I wanted, and expected.  About half of the critique audience wanted to know the details of the story I was singing about, the other half was content to hear the emotional framework and fill it in with their own details.  I am glad to hear that people heard many different things in those songs, and that they were the things I thought would be evoked. 
I didn't sleep much, and Saturday night, some young twits were doing a mini burning man festival right next to my tent.  They put up a stage and there was music all night.  I thought I'd be bothered by it, but I really wasn't.  The music was awesome.  The same twits were up late the night before, arguing over whether or not they loved God.  That, I could have done without, and I feel very bad for three generations of folks that were camped to the other side of me, who were very disappointed that their young grandson had to hear someone's drug-induced ravings all night long.  They left the next day, and that just breaks my heart.
It seems that broken legs were in fashion.  Several people were sporting heavy casts and crutches or scooters.  I hear that the oak leaves were the culprit.  People slipped and fell and broke important things like ankles.  Cornrow braids, however, were not as common, which means that I was easily recognized in the crowd.
I may learn to play the bazouki.  But first I need to learn to spell it.
I came home to discover that I have been selected as a finalist in the Susanne Millsaps Performing Songwriter Contest, which makes me want to whoop.  Ever since I saw this showcase the first time, oh, several years ago, I have wanted to be in it.  This was the very performance that made me go "oh, THAT'S what I've been looking for all my life!"  It has come full circle.  I am overjoyed.  Hal

The words quoted below aren't mine.  A friend of mine just sent this out to his contacts on the web, and I found it so very touching.  And alarming.  I'm mostly putting this here because I felt I needed to save these words, and not let them disappear into the ether.  Right now, I'm jotting down the last lines and taping them to my wall with my favorite quotes, by Picasso, Nelson Mandela, Ghandi: little reminders to myself to be be there, to have courage, to be gorgeous, fabulous, to be the change I wish to see in the world.

"Friends, Last Friday, I woke up dizzy from a nap at 30,000 feet, with a racing heartbeat and the overwhelming feeling that I was about to pass out. We were still two hours from Austin. As I lay on the floor of the plane sucking oxygen, I thought maybe my ride was over.  Mercifully, the list of regrets that flashed through my head was a short one.  By the time we landed, I was able to walk off the plane to meet the EMTs. I scored iPhone pictures of the EKG printout, the connectors all over my body, the ambulance ride, and even the chest shave where they had to shock me with paddles to get my heart back in rhythm in the emergency room. I left with a sack of sample medication and a diagnosis - atrial fibrillation. Of all the problems to have with your heart, it's the one you'd choose. The others you really don't want, and sure as hell not in an airplane at cruising altitude. 

My buddy Leo wasn't so lucky. Leo and I thought up the Einstein's Dreams cycle over pizza last July after the fireworks show we did. He scored all the music, and conducted the premiere in Bay City in February. He and I had big plans together - a tour this summer that included WFMT in Chicago, as well as a few other shows already on the books. He and I were working on scoring the cycle for different ensembles and touring it together as a team. His last Facebook post was a love note to his wife on their anniversary last week. A few days ago, he finished editing the live orchestra recording of Einstein's Dreams for our upcoming double CD. Last night he went to sleep in a chair, and this morning he was gone.

I hope you're doing what you love. I hope you're surrounded by wonderful people who mean the world to you. And I hope you tell them."

Well said.  That was Randall Williams, by the way, if you are not familiar with his music or his writings, you can check him out at www.whereisrandall.com

Well, a week has gone by and now I feel like I can give a good perspective on my first singer songwriter competition.  What an interesting time it was!  It seemed like a comedy of errors at every turn.   We crossed our fingers and checked our guitars.  Rex was stopped at airline security for carrying mustard.  Yes, he had a 12 oz jar of gourmet mustard in his bag.  I don't know why.  It was confiscated.
When we arrived in Phoenix, our guitars were the first things off the conveyor belt, yaay!  Rex's bag was close behind.  But then, where's Jen's bag?  We waited.  And waited.  And.  Waited.  No bag.  Hrm.  Off to several people who looked like authorities on such matters to get it dealt with.  "Oh, yes, Ms. Hajj, your bag has gone on to Burbank.  But we can get it to you in Tucson."  I nervously agreed.  After all, it contained all of my gear for getting beautified for my performance at the festival. 
We rushed to see my lovely friends, Rebecca and Erik, in Awahtukee, who prepared a lovely meal and some delightful conversation, and Rebecca lovingly gave me underwear, a bra, several changes of clothes for the trip.  And some really nice lipstick that was just the right shade.  Really beautiful.  Pajamas.  A comb. A round brush.  A tooth brush.  Floss.  She really is my all-time shero.  Oh, and Vincent and Alice were there, too.  Beautiful people from back East.  I seldom get to see them.
Off we went, into the sunset (well, not really.  It was dark by then, and southeastward) to Tucson, Arizona.  We checked in to the hotel without incident and I set my alarm early so I could go foraging for everything I still needed.  Tucson may have shopping malls, but they are hard to find.  I drove around way too long and finally found a Target.  I was skeptical, but figured I had no other options.  It was just what I needed.  I even found a cute little dress to wear, which was a little more comfortable than wearing borrowed clothes.  Though I am forever grateful that I have friends who would loan me clothing, I still consider myself to be the fat girl with glasses, and have to be very careful about what I choose to wear.  It is very easy for me to feel like I've dressed wrongly, and then act like I'm chubby and blind.  The dress felt right, and I felt like I could stand tall all day.  I got a hair dryer, a straightening iron, makeup.  A slip.  Deodorant.  All the essentials.  And then rushed back to the hotel and prepared for the contest.
The contest took place on a nice stage in the shade of the art museum and some mesquite trees.  A cute little bird pooped on me just before we drew for the performance order.  I thought, maybe this is good luck?  But no. I drew first.  Instant disappointment.  I have heard that first is not the place to be.  But I went first with a smile.  I got through my songs.  I reminded myself not to play too fast, to sing pretty, to sing from the heart. To smile, but not so much that I go sharp.  To just be who I am.  And that's what I did.
I didn't place, but who cares?  I'm so happy that I was there at all.  I calculated the chances of being a finalist, if it was just up to math and nothing else.  I don't remember how the math worked out, but getting to the point that you are on that stage at all is nearly miraculous.  Once a finalist, again, if it was up to math and not taste, there are something like 720 different outcomes of three winners placing first, second, third.  Add taste to that, and it is a whole different ball of wax.
The winners were deserving, the contest was a great learning experience, and I can now say that I have achieved one of my dreams:  to be on the stage in a songwriting contest.  5 years after "deciding" I would do it.  Not bad.
I'm not going to make any rash decisions about what I'll do next, but I think I will keep plugging away at this music thing.  It feels like me.
The whole trip ended with the unfortunate loss of my debit card and my cell phone.  I am still wandering around phoneless, which is liberating but also unsettling.  I need to get a replacement, but had no idea that it is so expensive.  I'm aghast at what wireless companies get away with.  I'm crossing my fingers that I will get this resolved quickly and painlessly.

I wrote some new songs, and went in to record them with Ken recently.  They are up on my reverbnation player.  These recordings are really scaled back:  vocal and guitar. And my guitar work is a bit sloppy, I'll be the first to admit it.  But I really like the recording process and how it helps me understand my songs better.  It helps me learn.
Time Heals All Wounds was an exercise at Moab Folk Camp in fall 2010.  Tom Prasada-Rao was the instructor, and holy cow, he was good.  He got my head going in all sorts of different directions than what I usually do.  First of all, I did the song in DADGAD tuning (not the standard).  Secondly, I used a form to arrange the lyrics of the song.  He had several forms we could use, and I chose "Here Comes the Sun."  If you notice, the lyrical phrases of the song follow the same pattern as the famous Beatles song...with a diversion here and there.  The third thing I tried was make the song about something unresolved, from the point of view of the person I have the issue with.  The song is a breakup song of sorts, but from the point of view of the person I broke up with.  This was years ago.  He was always urging me to move on, buy a house, join the army---basically, a kind way of saying "get out of my face!"  It was a difficult period of my life, and I tried my darnedest to respect him and stay away from him, but it was so different from what I wanted and was hoping for.   He married, moved away, and has lovely children now.  Thank you, Facebook, for reconnecting me with old friends, flames, etc.  Things do work out in the end, one way or the other.
For a Little While is my ode to the Folk Alliance Conference.  A love song, really.  There was so much going on, with so many people.  It was a whirlwind of people all trying to "get a deal."  I was satisfied to have a few more people know my name once the whole thing was over.  But there was an air of competitive narcissism about the thing.  Scads of people vying for the attention of a few concert presenters.  It was wonderful.  And nerve-wracking. And once I decided not to take it too seriously, I had a great time.  I wish I could have stayed there forever, playing in small rooms for a handful of really intent listeners.
I may get some other new songs up in the next few weeks.  I've got one about invisibility, another one about a family gathering where not all of the family was invited...ouch...stay tuned.