Blissfully tired

August 29, 2010

I stayed up late.

I was so stirred up, excited, exhilarated, fulfilled, happy.

Memories of strings bouncing, buzzing, ringing, singing between my fingers, the grooves, the sounds, Let my voice escape the bounds of normal speech and allow it to fly up into notes, spaces and rhythms. Travel on the trace, not a path or a road but the trace of the lyrics, the words, the pictures they convey and just go. Full throttle.

I felt everyone connecting. The individualities melding into a wheel of energy. We’re all there dreaming, flying, escaping the bounds that ties us to this life and its rules.

I feel so damned lucky. As I wallow in this ultimate indulgence of playing my own songs, exclaim out loud with my words my passions and loves and fears and fights… I thank everyone for being there. For allowing me to exist in this incarnation for those sacred, precious minutes.

The show ends and no one leaves. We talk. We keep this all alive a little longer. It’s Saturday night the 28th of August, the night is cool and the hearts are warm. The glow of the lighting sows a sort of magic spell that wraps itself around every being in that room.

One of the two guitars I was playing is the “house guitar” Duane told us that they “change one string a year on it”. The front of it is covered in autographs. If a guitar could speak… the stories, the jams and shows this instrument has been through. The rough hands, the gentle delicate ones. The shy ones and the brash ones. So we connected and communed and music we made.

So, here I am. Beautifully tired this morning. Slow start, Sunday kind of start. It’s practically cold out there at 71 degrees after the 100 + we had last week. Fall is lurking, there is not denying it. The days have noticeably shortened and the cool whisper of the wind talks of red, yellow and brown falling leaves. A cycle. Inexorable motion.

I sit quietly. In this calm moment. Being here, slow heart beat. The voices fill the air, Sunday kind of voices. Gentle, smiling. No rush. It’s the week end.

I cleaned the bike a bit more this morning. My brave machine. I had a look at the saddle bags. In there I found maps of Wyoming, Utah, Bryce Canyon, South Dakota, the Kodakchrome basin state park. Memories of moons, eroded mesas, double rainbows, angry Gods and their thunderstorms, endless horizon of heartbreaking tender greens and gold, the pounding sun. I could almost cry.

That I had the privilege of being a coursing electron in the midst of this. To have had the joy of being beaten by the winds. To have been humbled by the fire of the desert. To have been able to wake up in the middle of the night, open my eyes and see an infinity of stars filling the skies.

To find myself in the center. Between humans and nature. Slalom between the world of men and the world of nature. One so transient and demanding the other infinitely patient yet indifferent, brutal.

So yes, I sit here. Deep breath.

“What next” does not matter right now. I sense I have to process, reflect. Open up the portal in my mind where the knowingness will flow from. I’ll have a look at the map, just a look. No decisions. There is an almost inaudible whisper in my ear, it’s the road, I know. But there will be a few more days here in Altadena.


4 Responses to “Blissfully tired”

  1. Marsha Morgan Says:

    Danielle. Your music was amazing last night. You became an Other, a blessed soul whose infinite maelstrom touched every one of us there. You have a powerful and rare gift: the ability to align and ready our focus, to channel the chaos, and to attach words to the passions and fears and hopes deep within us all. I awoke this morning in awe of the inspiration you shared with us, and I’m so very grateful your life has brought you here, to our little home in the mountains. And wherever your path leads, know that I am just one, amongst many others, wishing you love and a blessed journey.

  2. David Walker Says:

    Dear Danielle, if the nest is warm and supportive there is no reason to leave it, just to keep moving. When you must you will know.

  3. Gregory LaBorde Says:

    Danielle, you made our Coffee Gallery come alive with your beautiful singing and playing.

    Thank you,

  4. steveslaughter Says:


    We’re still breathless after your show at the Coffee Gallery.

    Thank you for sharing your emotions, laughter, love, and your journey. We are ALL discovering a bit more of ourselves in your music and as you move on, we can see more in the stories than just “the Road.”

    Don’t leave…

    Yet we must say:

    Good bye


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