When your vision is far ahead of your technological abilities.

The Songbook is beginning to happen.

As I predicted, technical aspects are posing challenges.

I do not own a copy of Microsoft Word. Procuring a copy so far has proven costly, and since I'm not working just now, well, I need these sorts of things to be free. I'm still working it, but there it is.

I'm using something called TextEdit, which came with my computer. Since I don't know how to format, it seems okay for now. But at some point, I'd like to add a few photos to what I'm writing, and that is where I get hung up. I know that somehow, Word would make this easier. Maybe.
(I don't know how to format in Word, either.)

All you digital natives can stop laughing now.

I've gathered up my lead sheets, for most of the songs I've written. Some songs on my two later albums never got lead sheets written up, though I do have chord and lyric sheets.

Unmasked ADHD is a pain. Focus is very hard to maintain, even on some things I care about.
As Sweetie says when she's on too many deadlines at once: I don't want to write today, I want to have written.

And that's where I find myself this week. I have all this material, but getting it formatted and organized is proving to be really, really hard for my braibn, and for my hands, which still hurt when I write for more than about ten minutes. That is another reason I am thinking of including chord sheets for those last songs, rather than trying to write out manuscript for each one.

Manuscript is beautiful. But it takes a lot of time and care, which are difficult for my hands to exercise just now.

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Last Sunday, I went to Revival Drum Shop's 15th birthday celebration, featuring a slate of famous drummers performing and hundreds of people wandering around eating pizza. It was actually a pretty nice time. I DID have one moment of exclusion-by-femaleness moment, something that happens when you're a woman who's a drummer; but it was one tiny thing in an otherwise fun evening. And I got  to hear some amazing, inspiring drumming.

Last night, I went to the Shady Pines open mic at the High Water Mark Lounge, in my neighborhood so I could walk there and back. I couldn't play guitar, but I did get up and sing Count To Four with a LapTop snare and it went well. I think open mics are going to pose some challenges unless I can play guitar again at some point. But it was nice to go.

**********

It has been challenging not working. I need things to do to stay happy and engaged with the world. My counselor has told me that for now, I'm in a time of transition and perhaps taking time to sit and practice being (nstead of doing) could be good for me. But my brain just isn't wired that way. So I do things, take breaks, take naps and do a few more things. Little things, like sorting out the songbook and gathering my tax materials and stuff. Riding a bike remains challenging because I still have balance issues left over from Long Covid. So mostly I walk and take buses, which helps me slow down and notice things more.

I thought I'd be sad at the open mic, not being able to play guitar. But I wasn't. I met some really nice folks and we talked awhile, and perhaps that's a new goal for attending open mics, just to connect with other musicians and get the lay of the local music scene a little more. That's not a bad thing, and could help me in my atempts to shift to more localized music making.

 Have a lovely weekend, and happy Leap Year Day to all who celebrate.

(Video: "Count To Four" from 2019, when I was skinnier and still wore glasses)

 

Finding the new normal: How Will I Know?

I had to walk away from two gigs because of my hands, and it looks like even playing guitar for five minutes causes great pain, especially in my right hand.
I can still play drums, in short spurts and nt too aggressively. So I try to do a little drumming every day.
But my head and body have been sort of blah.
I used to love riding my bicycle, all the time. Covid, Long Covid and my knees seem to have made it much harder for me to ride, or to get excited about riding. Which makes me sad. I always wondered how I would phase out cycling and assumed it would be because of age and balance issues. But I expected those to show up a lot later in life than they have.
There's walking, and I try to do that when the weather isn't too cold. But even on nice days it is hard to find my way to a new set of norms since I had to stop working even half time.
Right now, I'm not making much music other than tapping out a few rhythms on my pad or drum kit.
I haven't made real music since early February.
And I feel like a different person because of it.
Only I don't yet know what the "different" is, or is meant to be.

I find that I am sometimes losing interest in things I used to be able to do wholeheartedly.
I'd like to play guitar but I can't right now, and probably not for a few months.
I'd like to think that working on the songbook would be helpful, but as I write each chapter (one for each album, plus some extra personal history), it feels more like I'm saying goodbye to so much, rather than figuring out what's next for me.

When my father's health was declining, and I rode back and forth two or three days a week to help him around the house and spend time with him, near the end of his life he sat on the sofa and told me, "I hardly ever watch the news now. It's all just stuff, and it doesn't really mean anything to me." I understood only in hindsight that he was preparing for his death on some level he might not have been fully conscious of.

I doubt I'm that close to death, but the memory lingers, and I find some parallels in my own life now, as things I can't do fall by the wayside. Perhaps guitar playing will return -- I certainly would like it to -- but riding a bike feels more and more unsteady and fraught. I don't know if it's because I simply haven't done much of it in the last few years, or if it's connected to my issues with balance and energy -- or if it's a bit of both.

I don't want music to stop being such a big part of my life, but I don't know what I'll do if I'm not doing it professionally anymore, or in the meantime, or whatever the timeline is.

I got a CPAP machine this week. Because I gained weight during the pandemic, I developed mild sleep apnea and this is supposed to correct that and help me get better sleep. It may take a few weeks to notice a difference. But it feels like another tiny sign of diminishment, and I don't like it.

I find I'm spending less time on Facebook since stepping back from performing regularly. With no hustling to do, I don't exactly need to maintain a certain level of publicity, and in fact it's hard to watch my younger, healthier colleagues still march on with their music careers while I struggle to find the new normal. So I spend more time drumming, reading and working on the songbook. But right now, none of it feels particularly inspiring. I don't feel especially inspired. I know that depression can come and go, and that ADHD is often misdiagnosed as depression (as mine was for nearly a decade). But this is more than chemical brain stuff. This is about transitioning to a new phase of my life, and I can't always tell if I'm transitioning mindfully or being pulled along by default.

With so few elders in my life it's hard to know what I can look forward to, or how to meet it as it comes.

Bonus Content! (An announcement.)

Although I’m taking a long break from guitar playing, I want to announce that I’m working on a new project. 

Over the next several months, I will be gathering up all my lead sheets from the songs that appear on my five (really? Yeah, I did that) self-produced albums, and with some help from a friend and colleague I will be creating a songbook that will eventually be available for sale.

It will look like a very fancy, professionally bound ‘Zine, with music, photos, notes about many of the songs, and stories from the road about what it’s been like to be Beth while also wearing the Synagogue Musician Suit. 

I will hold nothing back. Because you wouldn’t want me too, and neither would I.

I promise it will be good.

No title as yet, but I’m working on a few ideas.

I’ll post updates periodically.

And now, to go clear a lot of space on my studio floor so I can begin sorting everything.

And that, as they say, is that.

I had pretty severe hand pain in both hands for the last two days. This morning, the pain had not lessened so I called urgent care, told them what was going on and asked for suggestions. They told me that I had probably strained something in the area where the tendinitis had been diagnosed, and told me:

A. Don’t play guitar at all or do anything else that requires tight gripping in the hands for at least a two to three months, to give the inflamed area time to rest and recover.

B. Call my doctor on Tuesday for further treatment options.

C. Cancel the gig coming up in two weeks at the women’s retreat.

I called my contact at Camp Schechter and pulled out. I did try to find a sub but could not. I hope they find someone but it’s literally out of my hands now. I have to walk away.

I put my guitar back in its case, put the case back in the rack in the studio, and called it a career.

I’m now officially no longer taking any guitar gigs. I can’t. I will contact the shul where I work once a month and let them know that we will either have to modify what I do for them, or they will have to hire someone else to do this work.

I’m a little worried about replacing the money I’ve been earning — it hasn’t been much, but it’s something — but more than that, this marks a significant shift not only in my work, but in my life. I could rely on my ability to play guitar and write songs as a way to generate income, but as of today, that’s no longer the case. Even if I could return to playing again after a few months off, it likely wouldn’t t be at the quantity or quantity it had been before my hands developed the tendinitis. If I take too much time off, things will get rusty, and I’d run the risk of re-injuring my hands to get back up to speed, a potential vicious circle. My age is also a fairly large factor in the equation.

So I am officially forced by my health issues to stop pursuing work as a guitar player. And at this time, I can’t even play for fun. 

I can play drums — gently, and for short periods of time with breaks in between — so all is not lost.

But it does put an official end to my career as a working singer-songwriter, and probably as a synagogue musician (since I don’t have tons of cantorial training or liturgical experience, and there just aren’t that many synagogue jobs available in not-so-Jewish Portland, AND I have a bunch of stuff going on medically, AND I’m 61. It’s a lot of ands).

It’s interesting. For about an hour after I canceled my gig, both hands hurt tremendously. The left hand eventually settled down, but it felt like a dam wall [on how much I was willing my hands to keep doing things the way they had] had burst, and this pain I’d held myself back from acknowledging sort of burst to the forefront of things. Tonight, both hands still hurt, the right more than the left. But I feel like everything is happening that’s supposed to right now, and I’ve had a good run.

For someone who grew up on the outside looking in, and who operated from the margins the whole time, I believe I’ve had a tremendous run, an amazing run. And tonight, I am nothing but grateful for all of it.  My large guitar has made it possible for me to travel all over this beautiful country and meet and be friend some of the most wonderful human beings ever. I feel incredibly blessed by it all, and blessed by the friendships that we have sustained over the last twenty-five years. And I am still, and always, the musician I was born to be. I’m not done with music by any stretch yet.

Stay tuned for my next post, where I will describe My Next Big Project.

Have a good week.

Ch-ch-ch-Changes.

I knew this day would come at some point. 

After months of growing, intense pain, and difficulties with recovery afterwards, I finally went to see an orthopedist today. 

With the help of x-rays and a thorough exam, she confirmed that I have advancing arthritis and severe tendinitis from decades of bicycle wrenching and guitar playing. Honest wear, mostly, with some aging and autoimmune disease thrown in for fun. The tendinitis is really hard to work with, because the treatment for it is rest and refraining from the activities that cause the pain. There is no way to recover from tendinitis without taking a break from what causes it, recovering, and then returning to that activity slowly and often with modifications. It’s possible to treat the pain with NSAIDs (over-the-counter pain meds); but I can’t take the most effective one (ibuprofen) due to my autoimmune issues, and Tylenol doesn’t really help much. So I’m looking at a lot of periods of rest and alternating between hot and cold packs to calm things down. 

The doctor suggested today that in my case, it’s probably time to consider playing guitar more of a hobby and less of a job. 

I know now that it is time for me to downsize my music career. The days of hustling hard for gigs anywhere and everywhere all over the country are done. I simply cannot maintain the daily practice schedule and hustling for tours the way I once did. My body is adjusting, and so must I.

Taking this news in, I did have some tearful moments. Confronting the end of one period in life before contemplating a new period is an emotional thing. But if I’m being honest, I must admit that (a) I knew this was coming and (b) I can look back on everything I’ve done with pride and satisfaction. 

I hope to continue to play locally, but will no longer be hustling for major gigs or weeklong tours beyond the West Coast (and really, anything beyond the PNW only on an occasional basis). I will still make music, but cannot play guitar as often as I have for the past thirty years. I will slow down, and enjoy all the things I can get away with doing, and ease into semi-retirement. 

I’m grateful that I have the ability to do so, without losing sleep about a roof over my head or food on the table. I’m mindful that many do not have that option.

I’ll still be a musician — always! 

And I’ll still find ways to make music when and however I can, for the duration. I just need to rescale how I do things going forward, so I can use my hands for ALL the things I love for a little longer.

Thanks for following along, and for all your support of Jewish Music Made By Hand.