Thinking tonight. Thinking about who I am, really.  Deep down, when all the pretense is stripped away.  What makes me tick?  Is it so different from what makes everyone else tick?
I found myself saying to a friend the other day, that I get so tired trying to be strong all the time.  What if the truth about me is that I'm small...and I just try to puff myself up all the time and appear to be successful, brilliant, smart, engaging, generous, etc.  Or maybe the truth about me is that I really am amazing, and the smallness is a moment of weakness, a chip in the finish, that should be buffed out?
What if both are the true story of me?
I remember talking to a friend, way back when I was in college.  I had broken up with a man I thought was my ticket to happily ever after.  I was talking to my friend, feeling confused and alone, and I said "I don't have the slightest idea of who I am."  I'm not sure I know any better now, though I have moments.
I feel amazing when I am hard at work and things are coming together.
I feel invigorated when I am holding a challenging yoga pose, or when I hear music that makes me smile.
In moments like these, I'm not thinking about who I have to look like I am.  I'm just doing what comes naturally.  Maybe when I start to worry about it, that's when I cease to be me.
Just some thoughts.
Be yourself, friends.

2012.  I have declared it the year of yes.  I will say yes to everything.  (Within reason)
For example, if someone says "I want to move into your house rent free," I don't think I'll say yes to that. Or, "I'd like you to set yourself on fire," um, no.  But I have decided to move towards what I want when presented with the opportunity, instead of waiting for permission to take it.
The fact is that Yes has gotten me into some trouble.  It has made it difficult to do things like keep up with my blog.
My boss asked me,  "Will you go part time at work, to save the company money?"  Yes. Now I have a problem called "less income."  But I also have an opportunity called "time."
A friend of mine asked me, "wanna try roller derby?"  Yes.  Now I have a problem called "broken arm."  And an opportunity called "assistance."  I have been forced to ask for help, and every time, magic happens. Someone has my back, almost all the time.  I didn't know that.
Another friend asked me "will you go out with me?"  Yes.  Now I have a problem called "boys."  Not a huge problem, the way I see it.
Another friend asked me, "will you work for me to promote my music?"  Yes.  So far, that's not a problem, but I anticipate the problem will be "shyness and frustration."  Because I do get stage fright sometimes, and I forget to communicate.  The opportunity? Sticking with something that moves me, making new friends and reaping the rewards when the stars align. 
And after Yes, which implies invitation, I am going to try creating my own invitations to action. But for now, it's baby steps. It will be the Year of Yes.
Bring it on.

I have this dream of taking off for the holidays...going somewhere warm.  I typically get a break for the holidays.  My day job gives me the week between Christmas and New Year's off.  A great chance to take off.  And I never have.  I keep saying "this year is the one.  I'll do it this time."  But it doesn't ever happen.
I suppose that's not entirely true.  I did go to Las Vegas last year.  It was really  not what I had in mind.  But the opportunity was there, and it was warm there.
No, I'm thinking exotic.  Mexico.  Greece.  Or places even more exotic, where other traditions are observed.  But if there are warm beaches, even better.  The winter hasn't even started yet and it is a bit of a drag.  The constant feeling of having phlegm lodged in my sinuses, my chest.  I can feel it when I breathe.  It's like something is in there, sharing each breath I take, stealing some of it for itself.  Like some sort of breath tapeworm.  This is the way that winter feels in my body. I also lose my sense of smell when this happens.  It is dreadful, because I love smells.  I love the scents of cinnamon, coffee, pine, crisp mountain air, food cooking.
It's part of why I do Bikram Yoga.  On the day I signed up, they made me fill out a form of personal information.  They wanted to know why we came.  I wrote "to find my own loveliness."  But that's not the only reason.  I love the heat.  The ability to spend just 90 minutes per day in a really hot room is refreshing.  I could spend the whole day in there.  There is nothing about it that is too hot or stuffy for me.  It is just right, and the tapeworm recedes someplace hidden, giving me my lungs back.  Sometimes, I can even smell again.  Maybe that's not the best thing, because people really sweat in there, it doesn't smell good.  Like really stale socks, old towels, steeped in the juices of a hundred different people.
As much as I'd like to escape the oppressive lack of oxygen, this year, I have work to do.  I can't really get away.  And I can't really spend the money.  I'll stay home, and I'll crank up the heat in the house.  I will be working on projects that need to be done.  The bathroom, in particular, which has had a slow leak under the sink that I didn't discover until this fall.  I have no idea how long that has been going on, but the underside of the cabinet is gone and the floor beneath is covered in black slime.  I discovered it when I found myself thinking that it smelled like my Grandparent's house in there.  I didn't want it to smell that way, so I investigated.  Opening the cabinet to discover...whatever it was...we, I thought uh oh, this is going to cost a bit.  I've been checking prices on new bathroom cabinetry, and it isn't cheap.  Do I hire someone to do it?  Do I try it myself?  I have a friend who owns a cabinet shop, and they have seconds and returns.  I hope they have something that will work.  I'm going to find a cabinet and install it myself.  That's what I'll be doing with my week after Christmas, I think.  Measuring twice, cutting once, fixing all the holes, filling in the gaps in the tile, painting walls.  Making my nasty little house into a pretty place again.  Sitting in the hot room at the yoga studio.  And...repeat.
My life is full of things like this. Little smelly places that I've looked past because I didn't have time for them or didn't feel like thinking about them.  Some of them have been festering for years.  I need to root them out.  Get rid of what's making them reek and let them sit for a while, open and empty, to reacquaint myself with their character.  Then fill them with things of value or beauty that truly belong in those spaces.
It's a transformation that began years ago, I know that.  And I don't think it is done yet.
I wish you insight for the holidays, which will incite you to action that will make your next year perfect, whole and complete.

I talked yesterday with an old friend, someone I've known since college.  We see each other only once in a while, but I always enjoy our visits.  He's very smart.  Back in the day, I used to think of him as "the God of Music."  To say he is gifted doesn't even scratch the surface.  He is one of the finest accompanists I have ever worked with.  He asked me about my husband, and I reminded him that we split up, almost 2 years ago.  He nodded and said, oh, yes, I remember now.  They had been roommates, a long before I met either of them.  He said he figured that our differences in values would eventually be a wedge.  He was right.  It was quite possibly the most honest conversation I have ever had about it, and completely lacked the anger or hurt usually associated with the ending of a relationship.

And I've been thinking about love a lot.  About where it comes from, who has it, who doesn't, how to get it and keep it.  What my beliefs about love are.  I'm inclined to think that love is everywhere, and if you are open to it, you'll see it.  I just wrote a song that I think sums it up.

Love is Everywhere
Jen Hajj
11/30/11

It’s in the melody of your favorite song,
The harmony as others sing along,
It’s in the voices of the choir loud and strong.
Love is everywhere
It’s in the soaring obligato of the horn
It’s in the slow and steady heartbeat of the drum
It’s in the hollow sadness of the requiem
Love is everywhere

Love is Everywhere  Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, cuz it is everywhere
Love is Everywhere  Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, no.

It’s in each work of artistry, finely wrought
It’s in lessons of the classroom, wisely taught
And in the many things we once knew, but forgot.
Love is everywhere
It’s in the picture wall, it’s in the frame,
It’s in the target that you shoot at, it's the aim,
And in the space between the letters of your name.
Love is everywhere

Love is Everywhere  Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it cuz it is everywhere
Love is Everywhere  Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, no.

It’s in the faces of people that you meet
It’s the joy in you, the joy in me greets.

Love is Everywhere  Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it  cuz it is everywhere
Love is Everywhere  Love is Everywhere
You don’t have to look far to find it, no.

I've been in relationships before where people have remarked, "yeah, Jen, I know you're married, but you basically act like a single person."  Well, I'm not married anymore.  But anyway.  I ask them to elaborate on what they mean, and they say "you do pretty much what you want to do, and don't seem to need, have, or want the support of your partner."  On the one hand, I celebrate that.  On the other hand, I think, "ouch."  That seems kind of, well, harsh, don't you think?  I don't need or want anybody?
I came into dating in the 90's, and there was a lot of feminist sentiment in the air at the time.  Most of my friends at the time were lesbians, and I really embraced the notion that I could have my own life, my own style, my own money, my own career.  I didn't need to try to attract a man to take care of me.  It was almost as though that would be a bad thing, to have someone take care of me.  My attitude was bad, I recognize this now.  I feel really bad about the male bashing that took place during that time of my life.  Men are not evil and awful.  They are just people, doing their best. Just like me.
When I think about it and put myself under a lens, I have utterly failed at relationships.  Is it because I "act like I'm single?"  No.  This behavior is a "late stage" lashing out.  I think I do need and want support, but if I don't have it, I can get by without it.  I'm not going to waste my life waiting around for it.
There is the concept of being "single"---which most people read as "available."  Then there is the concept of being "single" as in being a whole and complete individual, without need for someone else to fill in the gaps.  I strive for the latter, and I believe that I have my moments.  How do I pursue that fully, not melding myself to someone else's ideal?  I want to be single---an individual.  And I eventually want to form a relationship with another single person. Where it goes from there, well, I can't say.
I think I have some ground work to do.  I don't think I am ready. I can give love.  I tend to accept people at face value and I treat them as kindly as I know how, at least until they give me some reason to do differently.  I don't know how to receive love.  I don't know what to do with it.  Do I have to give it back?  Do I have to be physical about it?  What do you want from me?  I distrust offers of love. 
I have a friend who had a baby this year, and I had an epiphany while watching them over the Thanksgiving holiday.  I see how much love is pouring out toward that child, all the time.  What does the baby do about it?  She drinks it in.  She grins and laughs.  She knows that she is loved.  There is no pretense.  The baby is just doing what she knows how to do. She isn't expected to do anything about it.  She soaks it all in, like a sponge. 
I want to learn something from that.  There is love all around me, and I don't have to do anything, except acknowledge that I am loved. 

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 Stewart, 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 apologetically 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.