That Glorious Momentary High

Just hours after coming back from three days of camping and hiking in Death Valley, I was stressed out. Suddenly I realized that for the first time in 10 years, the only things that were looming on my to-do list were music-related. There was no presentation to make, no paper to write, no business trip to schedule, no meeting to plan for, no employee to review--the types of things that in the past could cloud an entire weekend. No, now I had plenty to do but it was all part of living my dream! How could I complain about this? I mentioned my quandary to Wayne, my producer. "Next time, make sure all of your vacation is unrelated to music--don't spend the first two days at a music convention," he advised. He's absolutely right. For the past decade, 95% of all my vacations have been to music camps, conferences, gigs or workshops. If my life's work is also music, those "vacations"--which were never relaxing anyway, as I'd work my ass off during every one of them--are going to have to become real ones.

Sunday I went over to Wayne's and we worked some more on the next album. This time we listened to a few versions of songs I had found and discussed approaches to arranging them, but didn't do any heavy-duty arranging. After two hours, I left for my regular 6 pm gig at Grace Cathedral. As we did our quick rehearsal of the service, I was feeling tired and uninspired, and my throat was tight--I was reaching for notes, not really warm yet. Then the service began. The first few songs went by. I couldn't really hear myself well. The piano was overpowering me, but all I could do was trust that on the PA the mix was sufficient for the congregation. Then one of my favorite priests did the sermon. He's very good at riffing on a theme without overdoing it but also keeping things interesting and unscripted. His theme was that there are two interpretations, both of which are correct, about humanity: The first, that we have sin in our hearts that we must root out (at this he made a gesture of digging into his chest), that Jesus came to us as a band-aid to affix to our flawed selves. The second was that in Genesis, God says, observing creation, that this is "very good"--and we are good, we all have divinity in ourselves. When I'm lucky, something in the sermon inspires me. I sang Andrae Crouch's My Tribute, a gospel tune, and not too many phrases into the song that incredible sensation of emotion welling up inside me was there, pushing through, making all the words meaningful: "...just let me live my life, let it be pleasing Lord to thee. And if I gain any praise let it go to Calvary... To God be the glory..."

There was a moment like that on Friday night at my gig at the Jazzschool. We were playing my tune But I'm Weak, and the band really cooks on it as we've been playing that together for some time now. Here I am, crazy huge pregnant, dancing samba in high heels and lost in the energy. At the end of the song, Murray murmured, "You're having too much fun!"

Another moment like that happened today, at a rehearsal for our gig this Thursday at La Peña Cultural Center in Berkeley. The first tune we tackled was one I wrote and Wayne arranged recently, called Her Ways Wander. When we'd finished shedding the tune (and figuring out all the places the chart is wrong and needs to be fixed), I ran over and gave Wayne a hug. What a glorious moment, to hear a song you've written come to life, arranged, propelled by gorgeous chords and rhythms and played by great musicians. It makes all the stress, all the insecurity and photocopying and putting up flyers and begging for gigs worth it.