Anne Smith :: Blog for July 2015
I'm here, I'm alive, I just disappeared down the rabbit hole for a little while. It's been an intense few months for me. I am adjusting to a new chapter in my life, starting over again. I don't want to share any details except to advise anyone who is looking for a roommate on Craigslist to seriously reconsider. There is no end to weirdos & morons out there, and as someone who prides herself in being a good judge of character, I missed the warning signs! We so want to see things the way we imagine them to be. I call that "concrete illusions", and actually wrote a song a few years ago by that title.
I have landed temporarily in a little tiny bungalow 20 minutes from work. It is all I need for now (well, except for a ceiling fan and central AC, but that is a concrete illusion). It's a good enough place for healing my mind and getting back in to my art and music.
Work has been extremely demanding and challenging. The new Brainchild Institute officially opened in May, the same month I was moving in to my present home. For 2 months, all I did was pack and unpack my things from storage, and go to work where I would pack and unpack things from the old office in the new office. One good thing: it made me super-aware of what I really need to get by, versus what I have hung on to and needed to let go of.
It is going to be a time of "letting go". This is always hard for me. I started with some possessions: a sewing machine and huge box of gorgeous fabrics from NYC that I had been hoarding and "babysitting" for the past 5 years, thinking that one day I was going to start designing and sewing clothing. I found such pleasure in giving it away, that I started getting rid of other things; in doing so, I created a space in my life to allow a big storage cabinet to be given to me, that fits my artwork perfectly. I can't stop there. I have to go within, beyond the material, and be brutally honest about what attitudes and emotions I have to let go of. This is ongoing, this work on the self. It's not as easy as getting rid of a sewing machine. I'm finding that letting go of negative beliefs and memories has to be a ritual, a very conscious and personal talk with the self.
I'm excited to be performing at Cinque Terre, a beautiful Italian restaurant in Davie on July 18th. It was recommended to me a few months ago by a really cool couple who own a second hand store in Hollywood. I was looking at a piano in their place (which I have no room for!), and when they heard me play, they suggested I visit their favorite place and ask the owners if they were interested in having music. It took me another month to go there, and a second visit to ask about music. See, it's that voice inside my head, telling me "it's too late, Annie, you've done all that in New York. You're in a different chapter now, working in neurodevelopment and learning therapy for children. You can't do both; you'll burn out. People in Florida won't appreciate the kind of music you do. You have to support yourself. Think of priorities." But in those sleepless nights, those dark moments when I don't know who to trust, and where my path is taking me, guess what? Music answers me with love and sincerity, always. I just had another birthday. I felt like hiding. It's just one of those years. But that night, I sat at my keyboard and played for hours, until all of my emotions had been spent, and I thanked God for the ability to play music and sing.
I had a visit in April from Carrie, my college roommate, and that was truly a soul-saving weekend. Long-time friends can help you put things in perspective- as well as make you laugh and feel young! I'm getting there! George and Donna Medina, my dear sweet West End Ave. friends check in regularly. George is 93. He advised me, "Annie, you are Music. That is your passion. The work that you do with the children is important, but you must stay with your music. And can I tell you, you write such beautiful sentences!" He continued in his deep Austrian voice, as I listened with tears pouring down my face, "I don't know where I am just now. I am like your song, "Transitional Girl" . I am in transition". George is undergoing treatment for bone cancer, and he is in pain. Nevertheless, he took time to counsel me and his words were medicine for my soul. I plan to visit him before July is over. He has to hear "I love you" from me, in person. That is what is important in this life. If I am to be as honest and sincere as the music I perform, I need to let go. The world is hurting now. Do I add my pain to the mass, or do I
I'll leave you with some lyrics: "I'll go it alone, if that's how it must be. I can't be right for somebody else if I'm not right for me. I've got to be free, I've got to be free. Daring to try, to do it or die, I've got to be me."
Until Next Time xoxoxo
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