Song for the Dead

Living up near Chautauqua here in Boulder, feeling the ancestral spirits of the land - feelings myself as possibly having lived here before. Feeling the darkness and sadness from the old ways being forgotten...

Once I laughed, once I cried
Once I lived, once I died

Been walking these hills for thousands of years
Shed and shared over a million tears

This is a song for the dead
This is a song for the dead
This is a song, for the dead...

...
© December 1996, Boulder, CO

In the Shadows

The unveiling that came when I shaved my head - of lightening and release - was sooo liberating! And still, I honor the shadows. It is from the depth of suffering that makes this release so potent. I had always been taught (my dad's a psychotherapist/shaman) to embrace the shadows, our dark side - to not be afraid to face our demons and fears. Nothing to fear in the dark spaces inside - danger only an illusion of our minds... And indeed, it is only thru diving into the deep that the blessings of true joy become unveiled.

Verse 1:
Always afraid of things I can’t see in the shadows
Afraid of you and me, afraid of beauty in the shadows
I’ve been so afraid, but I’m coming alive
For love of us all, I steadily strive
I’m gonna follow my pride
I’m gonna set my own stride
Yeah this is my pride
It’s what keeps me alive

Verse 2:
Why do we let these things collect dust in the shadows?
Recollect lust and recollect trust from the shadows
I’ve been so alone, searchin’ for home
Only myself for which I roam
I’m gonna take my power
This is the final hour
Yeah this is my power
My finest hour

Verse 3:
Spent my whole life hidin’ my light in the shadows
First I was hurt and then I took flight into the shadows
I’ve been unobscure, frightened and unclear
As I relight my fire, I’m ready to fly higher
I’m gonna take wing
Become a blessed thing
Yes I’m spreading my wings
You can hear me sing

Verse 4:
Let’s take a dive, deep inside of the shadows
Bring forth the light from the darkened night of the shadows
For the shadow is my friend, her lessons (blessings) never end
From darkness comes light, as day comes from night
I’m gonna set sail
Swim free as a whale
The wind in my sails
I will prevail

...
© August 1996, Boulder, CO

The Storm

Written across a span of time ~ over journeys west to the sea, journeys into my inner storms, journeys always seeking "home"... I had read Ken Carey's "Return of the Bird Tribes," where he talks about the great storm that set upon this land when we forgot our path of peace...

I am waiting for the storm (x3)
To come and shake, shake us awake
Shake shake shake, shake us awake


Drown our sorrows, wash our tears
Heal the wounds from o’er the years
Release our anger, unveil our shame
Rupture the barricades that keep us enchained (insane)


Bridge:
Whoh Earth Quake Thunder, what will it take? (x3)
To come and shake, shake us awake (x2)
Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ rollin’, rollin’ like a river Jordan (x2)


And I am ready for the storm... (x3)
When the rain falls upon this land,
Let it fall upon my hands
When the wind blows all o’er the place,
Let it blow across my face


And when the sun shall rise again in the sky
At that time, I will dry my eyes
For the storm has been here for many a year
We have shed and shared so many a tear
And the tree of peace has not fallen in vain
Weaving our love, we will rise again


And I am here to see us through the storm
I am here to keep us safe and warm
I am here to see the dream reborn

...
©Spring ‘96, Denver, CO; July ‘98, Bolinas, CA; December 1998, Harbin Hot Springs, CA

Great Mother

A womanfriend had said: "Jesus will come back, but as the Great Mother." Also written in my little Denver home - and yes, on Easter Sunday. Here begins a great tradition of writing songs for the mother, and for the earth, on this strangely Catholic holiday with its roots in the old goddess fertility festivals...

Great Mother, mother of all
She will make our kingdoms fall (x3)
Great Mother

Verse 1:
Once I was lost, but now I’m found
She put my feet back on sacred ground
She said, “in me, you must have faith”
My life she blessed with her sweet embrace

And I will cry for her return
I will cry for her return
I will cry, cry. . .
I will cry for her return

Great Mother, mother of all
She will make our kingdoms fall (x3)
Great Mother

She calls my name in the midnight hour
Gives me a dose of her primal power
River of life, running through my veins
She and I are one and the same

And I will cry for her return
I will cry for her return
I will cry, cry. . .
I will cry for her return

Great Mother, mother of all
. . . she will bring down these Babylon walls
Great Mother!

...
© April 1996 (Easter Sunday), Denver, CO

Sweet Thing

This simple song, a sweet ditty, came to me while wandering the streets of San Francisco and Berkeley (my birth-town!) with my mama, during spring-break. Ironically, it was inspired by a little sugar packet titled "Sweet Thing." I kept that little packet for quite some years!...

Mmmhmmhmm
Mmm…Oh Honey
Mmmhmmhmm
My love is a sweet thing…

...
© Spring 1996, San Francisco

(um, you kinda have to hear it - it's a really yummy bluesy thang... :-)

Cry For Help

Living in Denver, alone, my 2nd to last year in college. This beautiful grace had sung through me - I now knew my purpose in life, but I didn't know how to live the day-to-day. Just weeks after that first song, I shaved off my beautiful gypsy locks. It was time to be born again, fresh and new. The night I decided to shave it, I realized I was cleansing a deep-seated sense of shame ~ wherefrom came this feeling of not-good-enough-ness?? From my ancestral gypsy past? From the endless taunts on the schoolgrounds? It was time to be born again into the light of inspiration, beauty, and goodness.

Shaving my head, I was light as a feather, happy and radiant as the sun. But I was also out of work - having quit my night-job at the strip club and knowing not what the future would hold. Would I have to move (yet again? I've moved so many dozens of times already in this life!). No money, but a tremendous knowing of the goodness of my new path...

When the world turns away from me
And the struggle runs too deep
And all I know is holding on
Tell me where can I go when the wind blows
Ooo oo oh... yeah yeah, come on ‘n help me
Oo a hoo, come on ‘n help me, help me, help me
Give me a safe place to cry

And I’m feelin’ so alone
And I’m in danger of losin’ my home
And all I know is to keep on breathin’
Whoh but where can I go to keep on dreamin’
Ooo oo oh... yeah yeah, come on ‘n help me
Oo a hoo, come on ‘n help me, help me, help me
Give me a safe place to cry

Well I don’t got a lover and I ain’t got no money
But still the world is lookin’ kinda sunny
Cuz all I know is what I got inside
And I’m standing on this edge here, ready to fly
Ooo oo oh... yeah yeah, come on ‘n help me
Oo a hoo, come on ‘n help me, help me, help me
Give me a safe place to fly

...
© Spring 1996, Denver, CO

Gypsy Woman (my first song!!)

Walking along the street one dreary day in April, 2006. Near campus, where I was studying psychology, dance, women's studies... Deep in my own healing process, I had discovered a love of dance ~ of the dance of life moving through me ~ Spirit becoming form in the dance that was in me, but not my own... I knew my passion as a dancer - movement was my healer, my release, and my most beautiful gift. Little did I know what more was to come. But this day, this grey day, walking along in my combat boots and long flowery skirt, my gypsy nature took over and out came a song! And in a voice I'd never heard ~ fuller than life itself, a gift of Grace... It was in this moment, on these lyrics, in this voice, that I knew my place in this world, my mission of truth.

Gypsy Woman, takin’ you higher
Burnin’ inside like a fire
Gypsy Woman, liftin’ you higher
Let her inside to inspire

Gypsy Woman lookin’ for a home
Lookin’ for a place to call her own
Gypsy Woman, lookin’ for a home
Looking for a place to rest her weary bones

Gypsy Woman, takin’ you higher
Burnin’ inside like a fire
Gypsy Woman, liftin’ you higher
Let her inside to inspire

Gypsy Woman gotta move-a her bones
Wherever she roam, there is her home
Gypsy Woman, shakin’ her bones
All o’er this great earth, she has flown

...
©Spring 1996, Denver. Revised June 1998, Crestone, CO