Thoughts
Thursday, Jun 13, 2002 -- 4:11pm
Posted by Bar


I have just sent an e-mail to those of you on my professional e-mail list so
I'm reluctant to write another and overwhelm you, but I wrote the previous
one yesterday and wasn't able to send it until this afternoon and today I
need to be in touch again in a more personal way.

I went to New York yesterday to do a few things that needed to be done.  I
was very tired before I left so I decided to take the bus.  That was a great
idea until I missed the 9:30pm bus by a couple of minutes and had to wait
around in The Port Authority Building until 11:30 to catch the last bus
northbound to Woodstock.  I was so busy listening to Phoebe Snow sing and
wondering if I needed to hang-out after the show to schmooze that I didn't
take care of my own needs and then missed the bus.  As I sat in the waiting
room in the bus terminal - one of the happier places on the planet - I
couldn't get over my irritation with myself for not taking better care of
myself.  I forget that I need to do that.  I find myself thinking that I am
a grieving mother; thatForrest just died; that I'm fragile and that I need
to remember that.  Then I think about Forrest and I realize that I am
beginning to forget every thing.  The thought of forgetting his kindness or
his touch or his eyes makes me crazy and I think that I might lose my mind
wondering if he knows that I am beginning to forget the details.  I keep
thinking that he can read my mind.  This morning I actually thought about
how nice it is not to have to be a mommy.  As soon as I realized that that
had crossed mymind, I spoke out loud to Forrest and apologized to him for
thinking like that.  Truth is, it is easier not to be a mommy.  Mommying is
hard work and rather exhausting.  But it's also the best job in the world
and I wish I were still doing it despite the advantages of not doing it in
every moment.  I remind myself that somehow Forrest understands all of these
things and that I don't have to worry about how he feels.  I'm convinced
that he is feeling really great right now.  I'm convinced that he is
somewhere doing something and that all is well - and even better than well.
I am also fully aware that I am human and that I am longing for him and also
grateful for the chance to go to New York City to see a concert late into
the night.  Both Peter and Ijust want him to come home and he isn't going
to.

I am sort of reeling from the weekend and doing our shows and putting out a
huge amount of energy and being the center of it all.  It's an incredible
feeling and I am not complaining one bit, but it certainly does change my
world - at least temporarily.  I don't know if I can explain it too well but
I feel like trying.

Being a public person, or at least being a person that people come to see
and to be entertained or inspired by, is a great opportunity and a powerful
gift.  I have felt for most of my life that I have been preparing to be a
public person.  I think that weall have roles that we are preparing for or
that are being prepared for us, and one of my roles has involved putting
myself before the public.  In the music business, we are asked to put
ourselves out for criticism and commentary all of the time.  Often we are
rejected or criticized or somehow turned down for jobs or opportunities that
we really would like a shot at.  Part of a musician's challenge - if not the
ultimate challenge - is overcoming rejection, believing in the music that
we're creating, and sticking to our dreams and hopes for ourselves and for
our music.  All of the sudden, I am getting that there are people who really
like my music despite years of being turned away by industry professionals.
It's really quite a shock.  Mostly it's extremely satisfying and I am
humbled by it and honored and very, very grateful, but I am not completely
prepared for it.  It demands a lot of focus and energy.  I love the part of
my "job" which allows for fans to approach me and tell me how they feel
about my music.  I love knowing their names and hearing their stories.  It
is truly a gift for me.  I guess what I'm saying is that I am just adjusting
to feeling good about what I do and knowing that I am good at what I do and
that people like what I do.  Even being able to say "I'm good at what I do"
is an adjustment.  I wish we would all say that about ourselves and not be
worried about vanity or pride.  I am grateful beyond words that my public
life is blossoming as I hit my mid-forties rather that when I desperately
wanted it in my 20s.  I am ready to roll with whatever comes my way and not
pushing for an outcome of any sort.  I realized during the shows on Saturday
that I love my life and I love to sing as much as anything in the world.  I
realized that I love Forrest more than anything in the world too.  Sometimes
when I tell him that (which is often) I add that I love him as much as life
itself and I realize in saying so that he IS life itself.  That life is love
and that I love singing, creating, mommying, God and myself equally because
they are all manifestations of the same magnificent thing.  What I guess I'm
saying in the end is 'thank you'.  You all make my life rich and full and I
am enormously grateful for my life.

...

I hear a critter thumping on my house.  Me and a couple of friends saw "our"
bear this morning as we sat on my deck.  (I saw him last week while walking
in the woods and he quickly ran the opposite direction).  A squirrel dashed
in to the living room here yesterday morning and I asked him to go back
outside and amazingly, he did.  There were wild turkeys here this morning,
and a skunk and raccoon the night before.  A bluebird.  Crows.  Geese.
Woodpeckers.  (Maybe they're the thumpers??)  Turtles.  Snakes.  And robins.
Peter is making beautiful wooden bowls.  I was hired to do some background
vocals this morning.  I talked to my Dad earlier.  Life is good.

Thank you for all that you do,

Bar

Tuesday
Tuesday, Jun 25, 2002 -- 2:38pm
Posted by Bar


Tuesday

Some people may describe themselves as motor-mouths; I prefer to think of
myself as 'motor-fingers'.  I love the internet and e-mail.....

The last week has been so consumed with music work that I haven't had time
to write you about more personal matters.  I feel so lucky even to be able
to presume to say that.

I guess you could say that being busy is a good thing for me.  I think about
Forrest constantly.  Every now and then something happens that puts me over
the edge into despair and confusion.  In those moments, I cry as deeply as
ever, but they seem to pass more quickly than they used to.  There's a sense
of not wanting the sadness to dissipate too quickly, but at the same time
being grateful not to be feeling desperate in as many moments.

On Father's Day, Peter struggled.  He slept much of the day so I let him be.
In the afternoon, we went out for lunch, bought some flowers and then walked
out to see Forrest.  It was a glorious day and as we approached his site, we
saw a remarkable thing:  Someone had come earlier and tacked Blue's Clues
paw prints all around the graveyard near Forrest's plot.  It was clearly a
pattern, so we followed it from beginning to end.  The message was "Dear
Forrest, We will never forget you", and it was signed by our friends Callie
and Michael.  At the end of the trail, they'd left all kinds of Blue's Clues
goodies and it was the sweetest thing.  All I could think of was how
wonderful their thoughtfulness was.  The two of them live 45 minutes from
here and clearly went out of their way to lift our spirits and remind us of
how much they loved Forrest.  I kept thinking that I wish everyone had
friends like that especially in times of need.

We spent the late afternoon on Father's Day looking for Forrest's headstone.
Peter has hiked every creek in the area to find the perfect stone but hadn't
found one yet.  Finally, with me in tow, we found a beautiful stone.  It's a
little pinkish, has a very vague heart shape and is the appropriate size to
work within the graveyard's specifications.  Peter was hoping to carve it
himself, but it turns out that carving anything by hand besides marble and
other soft stones, is virtually impossible.  We have agreed that the stone
is perfect enough that we should entrust it to an experienced carver.

I spent a few moments yesterday laying-out the text for Forrest's stone on
my computer.  It was the strangest thing picking a font for the words we've
chosen just as though it were the text for a poster I might be designing.
It did put me over the edge, so I closed the file, cried hard, and went on
with my day.  This is why most people hire other people to do these kinds of
jobs.  I have to admit, though, that actually doing it myself feels like the
right thing to do.  I also have the sense that it will serve me, Peter and
Forrest, better in the long run.

This past Saturday we went to Supertots for their graduation.  Needless to
say, it was emotional for us.  Mostly, though, it was great to see everyone.
Things are exactly and wonderfully the same there except that Forrest isn't
around....or is he??

When I went out to the graveyard later that day to say hello and to
generally quiet myself, I spoke out loud to the summer sky above me.  I have
a tendency to do that these days.  I told Forrest that I wished I knew where
he was; that I wish I KNEW for sure.  Then I told him that there are moments
when I do know for sure and that at those times, there is a deep sense of
peace and wonder about it all.  In those increasingly frequent moments, I
feel more than ok with how it all works.  Finally, I told him that I knew
that the reason he had come into my life was to teach me about faith and
about love because right now, that's all I have.  And with all that I don't
know, the only way I can live is to have faith.  He has taught me about
faith and I am grateful beyond words for that lesson.  It seems to me that
faith is the ingredient that I have needed more than anything when it comes
to living this life.  I think that the specifics of faith can change over
time, but right now, for me, faith is about believing that all is well;
believing that there is a grand and wonderful purpose to all of life and
that Forrest is part of it in both his life and death.  It's having faith
that if he is part of it, than so am I (and you and you and you).  It makes
the fact that all of us suffer painful experiences not only bearable but
downright beautiful - even divine.

*

This morning I woke up with religious art on my mind.  YOW!  What a way to
start the day.  I was sort of half awake when I realized that I was smack in
the middle of an a-ha moment.  When I think about it now I'm not sure what
was so 'a-ha' about it, but here's what it was:  it was something about
creative energy and how God lives in that energy.  Take a poet who is moved
so deeply by some observation or event that she then communicates that
experience in the form of a poem.  That poem, for her, is, in essence, an
expression of God.  I say that because, for me, moments that inspire my
creativity are directly linked to God.  They are God speaking through me,
or, put another way, my expression of an experience of God and of my own
divinity.  (I say this with considerable humility because I am in awe of the
whole process).  Anyway, our poet has written her description of her
experience of God and then her reader reads that poem and has his own
experience.  The 'a-ha' part of it is that the reader has his own experience
of God as a result of reading that poem, and an altogether different one at
that.  He too experiences bliss and he too is experiencing God.  That
reality of one artist's experience of God being communicated to another
seems to be the energy behind all religious art and Art in general.  It's a
pretty incredible circle of creativity.

Before I sign off I want to answer a question that a lot of people have been
asking me which has to do with Peter.  The question is usually phrased
something like, "well, Bar, you're so public with your feelings and I know
how you are holding up, but tell me, how is Peter?".  I always answer the
question something like this:  Peter is doing fine.  Peter is strong and he
is a great man and he is trying to figure it all out.  But the more specific
truth is that we are both struggling in different ways.  Peter is having a
lot of trouble not being a dad and a caretaker.  He goes to work everyday
and isn't quite sure why he does.  Before, he had a great reason:  he was
supporting his family.  Now, since I am able to get back to work and Forrest
is not here, he is a little lost.  He was a very committed dad and he really
misses his buddy and that role.  He is a considerably more private person
than I am but in many other ways we are very similar.  We both feel grateful
to have an enormous support system around us.  He keeps to himself quite a
lot; I keep busy.  But both of us seem to understand that death is part of
life and that all is well in the universe.  Mostly what he struggles with is
the physical loss of Forrest - not being able to touch him and smell him and
laugh with him.  The bigger picture, the one that revolves around faith, is
in tact for both of us, so in the long run, I think we'll both be ok.  When
we were out walking last night we talked about how we would be if we had
more children and found out that we had to do the hospital thing again for
some reason.  He told me that he is not sure he would be able to keep
himself together if that were the case and I believed him.  Truth is,
though, that we would be able to do it all again because Love is a very
powerful force.  We both choose to honor Forrest's life by living our own -
and that includes the pain and the joy.

I want to thank you for your concern for Peter.  I have asked him if he
would like to be involved more with these e-mails and he prefers not to be,
although I know he gathers much strength from all of your responses and the
collective energy that has been directed our way.  It's been enormous for
all three of us.

I love you all for bringing us into your lives,
bar