A Good Time To Be Born

Fear is a virus – so easy to catch – and when it runs its course it can be debilitating.  I often write songs about overcoming fear because it is a message I truly need to repeat over and over.  It makes me feel empowered to sing from the perspective of a fear-junkie who has beaten the bug.  My own lyrics – these words were gifts to me, wrapped in a melody – they only ever make it to the stage if they bear repeating.

Something new that I am learning about fear: it’s one thing to fear for yourself and it’s another thing to fear for your child.  For the first couple of weeks that I knew I was pregnant Randy really wanted to keep it a secret, just in case it didn’t work out.  This was how we were advised and it seemed like wisdom.  So my first experience with pregnancy before I could talk about it openly with anybody was fear.  That first fear, the fear of miscarriage, in that early stage makes it hard to celebrate the good news.   Then came the paranoia.  Addiction to Google searches can put a pregnant girl’s fear on steroids.  People love to tell their horror stories, they love to judge and warn to spread old-wives-tales and rumors, maybe even with good intentions.    It’s enough to make even a healthy person feel like a crack addict.  Everything that touched my lips, my skin, even fumes in the air made me worry and I found myself constantly typing every worry into that little Google box.  Sure enough almost all of it came back with a big fat red NO as an answer.  I was so paranoid about doing things wrong that when I first went out with my friend Shelly and told her the news she was like “Girl, you’ve gotta get excited about this – you seem so stressed out!”

Finally I called a friend who is a midwife and she kindly stayed on the phone with me for over an hour as I raked through a list of questions and worries.  She eased me back from the edge.  A week later when I met my midwife Joanne she worked a few more knots out.  Her philosophy is more like “Unless you are actually doing crack, drinking a pint of whiskey a day or living on Mountain Dew and Ho Ho’s you are not going to kill your baby.  Just try to make the best choices you can each day and remember that stress and worry is just as bad as junk food and diesel fumes”

As my pregnancy progressed I have learned to listen to my body more and focus on adding healthy things, instead of freaking out about avoiding unhealthy ones.  But there is another fear, a deeper one that has surfaced lately in my dreams and journaling.  The fear of bringing a child into this world.  I think this one got me young and planted its roots pretty deep because it is a big part of the reason I have waited till I was 35 to even seriously consider having children.

From my teens until around the time I turned 30 I thought the world was spiraling downward.  Watching the news like Theoden watching the orcs storm his stronghold, white-faced, saying “What can men do against such reckless hate?” (Lord of the Rings) I think I have been waiting for the world to end in a terrible way.  Then in the last few years I have shifted to a longer view of things, in both directions of the timeline, past and future.  I have started to realize that for all the horrors of this current age, it is no worse than it has ever been.  Even Jesus said there will always be poverty; there will always be war.  People will always be inventing new ways to be cruel to each other.  And though it doesn’t take away the pain of it, it is no longer such a shock when horrible things like school shootings and bombs at public events happen.  There are stories of snares in every “safe” place.  I cannot keep myself safe or predict what tragedies might lie in wait for me in the future.  I can only plant seeds each season, walk in the direction my feet are pointed, trust God, and not let fear rule me.

My favorite verse in the Bible, and I say it every time I feel afraid, is “God has not given us a spirit of fear.  He has given unto us a spirit of power, a spirit of love and a sound mind.”

So I am writing a new song.  Right now the chorus goes something like this:

“I believe it’s a good time to be born.  I believe it’s a good time to begin.  I believe it’s a good time to start over again.”

It’s not profound, but it’s important for me to say, if only for my own mental health.  I need to repeat the words that remind me that this world is full of hope in every direction.  It always has been.

The Solstice and the Stowaway – PART 2

(cont’d from Part 1) . . .

The next morning I took a second test and then crept back to bed.  Randy rolled over and hugged me more tightly than usual.  He opened his eyes to look at me and I could see the fresh perspective on his face – he was a quite different man than the night before.

“I’m happy.” He said simply.  We laid in bed a while whispering all our thoughts and fears and joys.  We decided to tell my mom and dad as soon as we found a quiet moment.

We told my parents the brand new news a few hours before the family Christmas party in between setting out platters of food and restocking the beer.  “This means that next Christmas we’re gonna have a baby around!” said my mother as tears lit up her blue eyes.  As my family gathered for the party I know I must have been glowing the way they say that pregnant ladies do.  I lingered in hugs, looked everyone in the eyes, listened deeply and enjoyed this rare evening with the joyful secret of my little stowaway.

The day before we made the journey to Buffalo a sad thing happened.  My grandfather – Edward Otto Zindle Sr passed away.  He was my last remaining grandparent and I always felt that in him was the seed of my musical ability.  He was an entertainer – never publicly or professionally, just naturally – and he was always singing and telling jokes and stories with his harmonica to accompany him.  Since my grandmother passed away a few years ago he just hasn’t been the same and his health had been on a slow spiral downward.  There was always a certain weariness about him, even underneath the jokes, but a shadow had overtaken him in the last few years and he didn’t seem to want to shake it anymore.

My family is rather complicated and remarkably smaller than when I was a child.  The last few Christmases have been the first in history that the Zindles didn’t gather to sing, eat and laugh.  This was a great loss for me as I always treasured those family gatherings.  My grandmother was a feisty Irish mother of nine children.  She always joked that she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but she loved music and she was an instigator.  She loved our traditional sing-along as much as I did, which is no surprise because her children all sang so beautifully, in layers of harmony.  They would call out song requests, laughing at the lyrics somebody messed up, hamming up the “5^th day of Christmas”, braving the high notes in “O Holy Night”, and adding every silly quip to Rudolph’s story.   Grandpa could pick out any tune by ear and he would echo the melody on his harmonica. The Zindle family voices are so earthy and sweet – the sound of them harmonizing together is like no other sound I’ve heard.  For me, it’s the vibrating resonant sound of home.  This is where I learned the communion of music – to harmonize, perform and laugh in an environment of love.  This only ever happened once a year and it has been years since the last time.  But this year because of my grandfather’s passing, the family decided to set aside their busy lives and petty quarrels to cross the distance and gather together once again.

“Harmony – it’s not about what’s lasting or permanent.  It’s about individual voices coming together for a moment.  And that moment lasts the length of a breath.” (From ‘House of Cards”)

I was so grateful to spend the first few days of knowing in Buffalo soaking in the love and music of my family.  I was trying to take it in slowly – to not allow my life to flash before my eyes in a dizzying vertigo.  No Christmas gift I could receive could compare to this precious treasure I had been given, this news that would change everything.  All my bells were ringing.

Later, to tell the story in a much simpler way, I wrote a song for my baby called “Carry You Along”.

Check out my recent post where I shared the song via video.

The Solstice and the Stowaway – PART 1

It was the Winter Solstice, 2012 – the changing of the guard to welcome winter with her harsh white crown.  We were visiting my family in my hometown of Buffalo, NY, and while my parents were at work we ran around town to finish our last bit of Christmas shopping.  The first snowfall of the year on the first day of winter is a snapshot of poetic coincidence and the scenery seemed so perfect and pure in every direction, covering the twisted barren trees and gray rooftops with a sparkle of newness.

We stopped at many places as we checked off our shopping list, enchanted by the lacy white flurries dancing all around us.  We ducked into a drug store and while Randy picked out a few gifts for my stocking I picked up a pregnancy test.

You see, one week before this day I was on stage for my big annual holiday show.  My regular monthly business was supposed to have happened before the show hit the stage that weekend, but it never did.  The show was sold out both nights and I was so wrapped up in the excited busy-ness of it all that I hardly noticed the sign.  But when a few days became a few more I began to worry and wonder.  I told my friend Shelly that I was late and she is a good friend, so she just asked me how I felt about it.  A good friend holds up a mirror when you really need to see the truth about yourself.  All I could say was “I don’t know” but tears were sneaking out of the corners of my eyes.

It was too much – too terrifying, too wonderful, too complex an emotion to explain. And it was too early to get excited – too soon to know for sure.  People have asked if Randy and I had been “trying” and I always say no, but what does that really mean?   We had been praying for God’s wisdom and timing because we could never seem to understand how a child could fit into our lives.  I wondered if the timing would ever be right, but in my heart it was what I truly wanted – it had been my secret Christmas wish.

I decided to wait one week to find out for sure if my season was indeed changing with the rest of the world.  Within that week I had tried on many frames of mind and emotion, but when the day finally arrived I was perfectly at peace with whatever the result.  Back at my parent’s house all our shopping was done, dinner was a memory washed from all the dishes, and long conversations had smoldered into goodnight kisses.  I slipped into the privy with a test in my pocket.  I was strangely calm even as I waited for the answer.  I brushed my teeth while the strange plastic device did its business.  When I was done brushing I casually looked over to see the word “PREGNANT” clearly printed in the display window.  I picked it up to look closer, my heart flipped a few times over and I took a steady breath.

Randy was in the bedroom reading, winding down to sleep, but I couldn’t wait to tell him.  I brought the test in with me so he could see the bold word himself.  I watched his face as a myriad of emotions shifted across it like a time-lapse photograph.  Shock was first, then confusion, questioning, then came a slight freak-out session when the timing dawned on him. “Wait! That’s the middle of festival season!  Erin, we can’t do this now!” he objected.  “Honey,” I said as I snuggled in close to him “It’s happening now.”  He held me close and kissed me on the forehead.  It was the biggest news he’s ever received and he needed to sleep on it, so I didn’t say anything more.

I can’t believe how well I slept that first night of knowing – how peacefully and fully engrossed in sleep I was.  It was like the first snow – a mystical flurry of beauty observed without a thought about the reality of winter and all the changes it would bring.   No reality yet – there would be time for that – but for now only this iridescent white blanket of newness covering the world within my view.

Check out 2 related posts:

Read more: “The Solstice and The Stowaway Part 2″

Here the story told more simply in a video  of a song:  “Carry You Along”

Carry You Along

Carry You Along1

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Here are the lyrics:

Carry You Along   by Erin Zindle

Vs 1

It was the first day of winter and I knew for the first time

This would be the last winter before you

As the first winds of winter were moving us in new and strange directions

We were scared but we were happy too.

All my family came together – you were there, our little secret,

In a pocket on the inside of me.

So I sat in the middle of all their voices singing, soaking in every sweet harmony.

Chorus:

May these things find their way into your blood,

Into your deep memory of song

And only good things attend you – sweet dreams and beauty –

As I carry you along . . .

Vs 2

It was the first day of winter and the last of the older generation

Was being laid to rest.

The absence of my grandpa’s harmonica was a quiet lonely ache

Beneath all our cheerfulness.

But his quality of laughter and his jokes still echoed

In the mouths of all his corny sons.

I was grateful for my father and the roots of his humor

So I laughed at each and every one.

CHORUS

Bridge:

You’ll never know my grandma or my grandpa

Except for the stories I remember how to tell

But you are a part of this endless chain of harmony

And someday you will learn to sing it well

Vs 3

It was the first day of Springtime, you were kickin’ like a kick drum

And your father played his rhythm right along.

I couldn’t keep from singing for the joy of creation –

The beginning of a brand new song.

CHORUS

For the back story behind the song, check out the blog “The Solstice and The Stowaway”.

The Big News

They say it’s natural for pregnant women to turn inward: to begin nurturing and nesting with every waking thought and moment.  Who am I to blow against the wind?  You haven’t heard a lot from me in the last few months because everything I write lately revolves around the biggest thing on my mind and I wasn’t ready to share it with the world until now.

I’m excited to finally announce today that I am just about 20 weeks pregnant!  (Yes I know it’s April Fools Day, but there have to be some real announcements on April 1st to perpetuate the tradition, and today happens to be the best day for us to announce it.)

Randall and I found out just before Christmas and have been adjusting our lives and our minds to the idea as we’ve shared the good news with close friends and family over the last few months.  For musicians who make their living by touring pregnancy is not always exciting news, but we couldn’t be more thrilled.  And we don’t plan to stop touring.  We will welcome this little baby into our world, making room and making time to accommodate him or her however we need to.  We also don’t plan to find out if it will be HIM or HER until we meet face to face!  The baby is due on August 20th – I’m just about halfway there!

There is a season for everything and I distantly recall my own restless, ambitious seasons of work and worry.  This is a new season and the edges of my ambition are dulled by a new and steady peace.  It feels a bit like passing through a cloud, not for the lack of vision but for the mystery of feeling surrounded by a presence, as if angels are attending me.  My womb and my heart expand to make room for a new love – a new way of loving.  “There will be time” said TS Elliot “to prepare a face to meet the faces you will meet”  There is a brand new face, not yet seen by this world in all of time and history, that I was lucky enough to catch the first fleeting glimpse of, and this new person will be entrusted to my care.

Baby’s First Photo Shoot!

I plan to blog more regularly now that the door is open to share what my life is like touring with a baby on the way.  I wrote a new song which I will be sharing soon as well.

The Extreme Normal

There is a very plain word which describes this revolutionary new system I’ve been putting into place in my life.  “Routine”.  I know – it’s not very exciting and it doesn’t really seem revolutionary at all.  The word occurred to me this morning as I was exercising. I thought “this is what normal people do all the time”.  I’ve always seen the word “routine” as a bad word – as bad as the word “normal”.  But here I am waking up at the same time every day to do my morning ritual, then scheduling my office and meal hours.  I started on March first and it’s been two weeks now.  The only one part of the daily plan that I have yet to implement is the 10pm “Relax” time.  So far I have continued working each night until I was too tired to go on any longer and then finally put myself to bed.  I think I’ll get around to the relaxing part eventually.  (maybe once taxes are done)  Routine.  There is something peaceful about it – and something maddening as well.  Surely the schedule is helping me make sense of the otherwise shapeless hours which make up my daily life.  I’m feeling a little bit more in control – and I’ve been quite productive!  Part of me wants to be constantly on the road where I have no control over the circumstances and timing, where the scenery changes each moment and there are new faces and names to learn each day.  Part of me thrives in that environment.  But there are other parts of me – parts that crave that elusive thing called “home”, parts that really want a routine, that enjoy having a little control.  I am the constant balancing act of all these parts and my pendulum has been swinging in one direction for a very long time.  Now I’m at the other extreme – the extreme called “normal” and (at least for now) I’m feeling quite at home.

Ragbirds Halloween Tour Video

Ragbirds Halloween Tour 2012

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In celebration of Halloween this year, The Ragbirds played three shows in costumes that I made out of mostly recycled materials.  Drawing from childhood nostalgia, the band chose Fraggle Rock as the costume theme.  I started with a thrift store spree, buying fuzzy pillows, scarves, bathrobes, blankets and 6 baseball helmets.  Then I visited my favorite Ann Arbor craft store The Scrap Box, for fabric remnants and various details (like eyeballs, felt and yarn).  Piecing the heads together by eye, the Fraggles took shape.

I put together this video to highlight the first two weeks of our 2012 Fall Tour “The Halloween Leg”.  Enjoy!

Slip Sliding “Happiness Project” #10

We crawled up the fat belly of the Ozarks at twilight, listening to the reckless, stompy singalongs of native sons, Mountain Sprout, just to catch the mood. The fog thickened as the winding road took us higher and closer to Yonder Mountain Harvest Fest.

I was wrestling my own heart and having a hard time taking my own advice. (“two minds made up, both belong to me…”) Upon arriving, the rain had already turned every step to thick mud and I was stuck in it from the start, spinning my wheels. (this happened both literally and figuratively). My inner vision was as foggy as the horizon.

Moments like this always make me wonder – am I mimicking the environment or is it mimicking me? Am I manifesting this weather or is the weather stirring up my personal storm? Or is it all unrelated? The winds began to pick up and I shivered as I passed a car with the radio on. Paul Simon crooned, “You know the nearer your destination, the more you’re slip sliding away…”

So on one of the great old mountains, surrounded by ominous clouds and banjo music, I found myself slipping.
It wasn’t the weather, but I will spare you the details, as I always do when it comes to the specifics of my pity party.

Walking like a ghost, I stumbled on a young band of boys playing in a tent. I listened and I heard some wisdom carried by a warm voice, so I stayed. A lyric needled through my fog – “It’s not where you are, it’s what you find.” I felt a little lift, a sip of fresh air, and started looking outward instead of inward. Maybe I will find something.

I held on to this thought but the weather persisted. Later I was backstage (in a larger tent) getting ready to sit in with some friends. I heard the announcement that things were shutting down. The storm was gonna hit hard and fast; “40-60 mph winds”, they said; “take shelter in your vehicles”, they said. “we’re gonna have to evacuate this tent”, they said. I had no vehicle nearby and I overheard my friends discussing how they didn’t have room in their vehicles for all the “extra” people that were there. (I was one of those “extra” people). Splosh! My heart sank.

In hindsight, it was ridiculous for me to feel so scared and lonely. It was the slip sliding that made me forget to look up and around me. God had not suddenly abandoned me to be carried away in a storm! My friends were not about to close their doors saying, “sorry! No room for you!”. How did I go from enlightened, trusting, brave and unshakable to this quivering, cowardly, frail little thing? Slip sliding.

My friend Amberlee (who was dressed up like a bee and who also didn’t have a vehicle) called me over to sit beside her on a tarp on the ground. She put her arms around me. I said, “where are we gonna go?”. She looked at me thoughtfully and said “Just be.”. I took a breath, and a moment later I realized her joke. (she said “Just BEE.”) and we both started laughing out loud. For such a cheesy pun I probably laughed too hard, but it felt good. And that’s what shook me out of my funk.

My husband Randall, drummer Loren and our friend Ryan suddenly showed up (“we found you!!”), a kind fella let us all into his RV, the storm came and passed (nothing compared to the threat), the lights came back on and the music started back up again.

I said something in my first “Happiness Project” entry about being more consistent in my practices. But consistency isn’t truly possible. The practices build a strong core that draws me back into balance when I’m out of whack. But I get by with a little help from my friends.

-This is Amberlee, Andrew (from Wookiefoot) and I, waiting for the storm

Carrying God With Me “Happiness Project” #9

(Day 1 of a five week long tour/ Month 2 of my “Happiness Project”)

I am a constant traveler but I don’t travel lightly. I carry God with me.

Today, once again, I am on the road and as I embark on this outer journey I am, as always, carving inward roads as well. The calendar and the map agree where this vehicle will deliver me each day. The route and the distance had been calculated before these wheels even began to roll.

I could go passively along, put my body in the seat and numb my mind with entertainment, news, or any mundane thing. I could use these captive hours of transport to keep busy – to stir the bees of ambition and let them buzz about their constant work. I could focus inwardly and mirror-gaze myself into hypnosis, for better or worse. I have done all of these things.

But I believe in change. I didn’t always, but I’m trying to keep believing that I can change. I’m practicing becoming who I am born to be. I am seeking answers in the pursuit of happiness. So I’m setting my intention for this tour (and from here forward) to draw nearer to God – to bring Him into my daily experience with mindfulness.

That is what I mean when I say I am carrying God with me. I do believe that God is always with and in and all around me. So, how do you carry the air? How do you bear the weight of God?

1) Pick Him up like a babe – Adore him.
(Worship just means paying attention – have you seen these autumn leaves?! Praise comes naturally.)

2) Put Him on like armor – Take courage, be strong and fearless, knowing all things are possible.

3) Drink His presence like medicine – Instead of whining or turning to the left and right seeking comfort in physical things, turn and look up.

4) Lift His words to the top of your mind – Elevate! Meditate! (Remember.)

5) Carry on a constant conversation – Pray like a river flowing always towards the source. (I love using The Divine Hours by Phyllis Tickle to keep me steady)

Like precious cargo, like a key in my pocket, like a torch, like a memory, like a tune, I am carrying God with me.

The Rephrase “Happiness Project” #8

I got a little behind on my blogging recently because of illness. But I’m still on course with my Happiness Project and it’s a new month. The focus for September was marriage. For October I’m focusing on spirituality, while trying to continue practicing all of the things I learned last month.

Doing a happiness project through a bout of sickness is a great way to really test the strength of one’s convictions.

But happiness has more to do with perspective than position. Perspective is painted by your words. In my opinion, words are losing their meaning in our culture. People just say shit all the time – they are constantly talking. Everyone is “so busy”, everyone is “sick”, everyone is “stressed out”. The Bible says “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks”. Words have power. If you think about something often it will spill out of your mouth like a fountain and if you repeat something out loud often it will take root deeper and deeper in you. It works in both directions.

Listen to yourself – just observe the topics and the tone that frequent your conversations.

I recently signed a “no complaining” contract so I’m learning the art of rephrasing. Here’s what I have discovered:

The first step is silence.

Don’t say it when you think it. Then the opportunity for rephrasing becomes possible. You have to catch the falling jar before the milk is spilt.

There is always a better way to say what you are trying to express. Twitter is actually a great way to practice the rephrase. I was not a fan of Twitter for a long time, but my manager really encouraged me to tweet more frequently. As I started doing it I realized it’s a good exercise in positive observation and careful wording. I look around me, think of all the things I could possibly share about this particular place and time, (maybe even take a picture), weed out any that sound like whining, whittle it down to fit 140 characters and post. What I thought would be a time-waster actually turned out to be enlightening. I even started posting #twaikus (twitter haikus) which is a great challenge for a wordsmith.

(BTW, you can follow me on Twitter @fiddlebird!)

There is always time to stop and rephrase. Rephrase your words and you will reshape your mind. One step on the long journey to happiness.

(photo taken on our wedding anniversary at a poorly attended show in a less-than-romantic situation… repainted in rainbow hues, enjoying a bottle of champagne, smiling – its all in how you look at it!)