Sometimes I feel like I feel too deeply for this world. It’s in those moments that writing saves me. I write to soothe myself, and if what heals me somehow reaches the essence of you, then I will have done my job. I aim to inspire, and at the very least, to comfort.
I seek the eternal in the internal, as the external fades.
I’ve always been an early adopter, and a late bloomer. I haven’t taken the traditional path. My songs are my babies, my band is my family, music is my savior. I live to sing and to stretch, to move my body, to feel my bare feet in the wet grass, to stop time in the here and now with awe and wonder, ecstasy and transcendence. I have lived lifetimes. I have been battered by shattered hopes. I still believe in love.
It’s taken me longer than most to find the courage to shed the mask and find my own true voice, and that’s okay. We have only this one short wild and precious life. I must stay true, without judgment, to the voice in my head that wakes me up out of sleep to reach for pen and paper and guitar, for tears to pour out of me and wash away the emptiness, and birth a song, in its rawest and most piercing beauty.
I haven’t come this far without regrets, but maybe, just maybe, what I’ve learned from them might serve you. Take my worn and tattered voice with you in your head. Wrap its soft and comfy folds around you to keep you warm. I can’t promise everything will be okay, but whatever happens, I’ll be there.
I’m grateful that our paths have come together in this moment. Thank you for walking beside me for a while. I promise I’ll shine my light as bright as I can to guide our way forward. And when I can’t anymore, my songs will remain, to do it for me. We don’t know where we’re going; but we won’t be alone.