015 | Does It Matter?
5:47 AM , Sunday
Kitchen Table at a Friend's House
Dear Friends,
Woo! It's early! At least for me. :)
I remember I got up at 4:30 every morning for a month, and that was normal. Perspective is everything, huh?
I'm up early because I wanted to write you in the morning before work. As I sit here, with my Niagra Falls mug sipping my second cup of coffee, I'm overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude.
I've been house sitting at a friend's this week, and to have my own space has been a deep breath. It's given me new fuel to work hard to one day have a place of my own, not as status or as a line in a script we're told by society is what we're supposed to do, but as something I truly desire to have … a haven, a place to be still in, to work in, and to offer to people as a place to find shelter.
It’s been a gift to have this space to be in and process this week in light of turning 35, which was awesome, and releasing my Human to Human EP. Oh yeah, I have new music out in the world! :)
The day of and after my release, so many things happened in me internally. Some I was not expecting.
I knew there wasn’t going to be much fanfare around the release, for a number of reasons, and I was okay with this.
Release day felt solid, good, normal. I was prepared for it to be anti-climactic, but not in a bad way. I was proud of this project and happy it was out in the world. I shared about it on social media, and then went about my day. It felt good.
And then ...
I started looking around. I started comparing.
I could go on and on about the thoughts I had running through my head. Suddenly, everything I was doing got discounted. I went back and forth from resetting and feeling great to comparing and feeling terrible.
Then I found myself asking three questions:
When you think about the voices in your life you value the most, what are they saying?
Does it matter?
If you knew you were going to die at the end of today, and you were thinking about how you’ve spent your life, how would you feel?
The question I want to share more on is the second one, “Does it matter?”
Does the work I’m doing matter? Which leads me to ask other questions.
Do you believe in the work you are doing? YES.
Did you put every ounce of yourself into this project? YES.
I thought about the people who tell me a song has helped them get through something hard. THAT MATTERS.
I thought about people who respond to these letters about something that resonated with them, and that it took energy and time, and maybe even a little courage to write something and hit reply. THAT MATTERS.
Each of those people has a story and hard things they are working through and beautiful moments they are living into. They have people they care about and they're doing their best to do their own work and show up in the world, and in some small way, I get to be part of their world. That’s human to human. THAT MATTERS.
I have fucking hard days. Days where I question and wonder what the hell I'm doing. But I also have days where I revel in my life and all I have the privilege of getting to do, and I shake my head in disbelief and thanks. I look around at the people in my life and think, "I am the richest woman in the world."
I want to be rich in all the ways that truly matter. I want to do work in the world that matters. And turns out, I’m already rich and doing my work. DAMN. Enter question three, “If you knew you were going to die at the end of today, and you were thinking about how you’ve spent your life, how would you feel?”
Here’s to living the response to that question well.
Much love to you all,
—Shel
P.S. My next show is sneaking up! I'm not playing many shows this year, so if you're in the area, would love to see you there. I'll be sharing the stage with some wonderful fellow songwriters for Boulder In-The-Round on Wednesday, May 1, at e-Town in Boulder at 7pm. Here's the Facebook Event Page and a link to Get Tickets.
My New EP Is Out!
My new EP is out in the world. I wrote, produced, engineered, and mixed it all myself, something I've never done before, and I AM SO DAMN PROUD OF IT.
