It is true that I am idealistic. I am committed to the rigorous pursuit of truth, and, in that pursuit, the virtues of attention. I believe in the purity of intention, the necessity for courage, and the dream of valorous engagement. That used to be enough for any idealist in a world that honored such things. But now…now I know that idealism is no match for entrenched injustice. Every day these days, our sensibilities are shocked. Such shock is now the truth, and is now an experience that “seems” genuine. Perhaps we should be glad that we are still shocked, rather than numb and like many others, mistaking shock for awe. People are forgetting what truth and freedom and liberty and justice and real love for one’s neighbor-as-one’s self actually mean, and how we all used to be of one mind about these things. The struggle of human beings against power that rails outside of one’s soul is the struggle of memory against forgetting.

Throughout my life, I’ve always loved trees. I see how they grow in two ways, down into the darkness of the soil, and up into the lightness of the sky. I want to be like that. There are many wondrous trees in our neighborhood here in Seattle…and I reckon, wherever you live, as well. I read once that hugging a tree can lower blood pressure, so, I apply the science, and hug three trees every day…three large and stately sweetgum trees which I’ve dubbed Mother, Father, and Brother after my departed family members. I hug them and pray for whatever pops into my head and heart in the moment.

I can hardly believe it’s been a year since the people of Standing Rock out in the Dakotas stood up, stood for, stood by the water, the most precious thing on this Mother Earth. Water is the deal, and without it, no living thing can exist. So why are so many so blind?

Flying home yesterday, I left Chicago, sleeping for a time, my head against the window. When I awakened, we were over the Dakotas, and my eyes and heart feasted upon the landscape. Some folks think it is barren and feel uneasy in its spaciousness. I am sure the man who occupies the People’s House has never been there, and sees no problem running oil pipelines through land that is living and sacred to so many. The water there and its accompanying green is precious to the peoples there, as it is to so many people around the Earth. Many of these people came to Standing Rock to stand with the water protectors. Many stood where they were, sending prayers and money and support to the people there.

I am so proud of my city, Seattle, whose City Council just named Columbus Day as Indigenous Peoples’ Day.  There are other sides to this story of discovery, things that were set in motion and disturbed forever. Discovery is like that. Columbus Day has become a celebration of Italian pride, and while I get that on some level, I feel strongly that this day needs to be seen in all its light. Every Columbus Day for years now, I’ve played two songs here in PTown,” Postcards”, and “Wounded Knee”.  Postcards revisits and re-imagines his “discovery” and provides a what-if moment.  What if his heart turned toward Paradise and he ordered the ships to go home without him, burned the maps so no one would know this place existed, and grew old there, lying peacefully in the sun and sand.  “Wounded Knee” tells us what happened over and over as Manifest Destiny rolled over the people who lived here.

Columbus had wanted to sail east to find Japan and all its fabled riches, but was unable to get the funding for his venture.  After hanging around the Spanish court forever, he finally got enough money for three small wooden ships, and sailors to man them.  Armed with Portuguese maps, they sailed to the east and bumped into an island where lived the Taino people.  The history of these indigenous people nearly disappears with this contact.  Violence and disease pretty well took them from their home where they had lived until Columbus came.  This moment in history is a hinge upon which swings the lives of so many.  Discovery is like this.  Claims are made that land has been “discovered”, while all along, people are already there, but people who had a different land ethic.  This ethic said the land owned them, not the other way around.  This ethic fell beneath the driving wheel of the landless Europeans who set out to take land for themselves, and take it they did, claiming it in the name of one country or another.  This day known as Columbus Day, could now be given a new name, one that honors a woefully uncelebrated narrative…the other side, the Indigenous Peoples of this continent, the islands in between, South and Central America, Mexico, Tibet, Russia…the list goes on and on.  It’s time, I think.  Time to honor the rest of the story.

Listen to Postcard from Paradise

As the New Year turned, I was fortunate enough to begin this next life-voyage on a beautiful sailing ship in the Caribbean. This was the 5th in a series of Olivia's 40th Anniversary trips, beginning last year and into this year with 3 cruises and 2 resorts.

I was so honored to be a part of it. I've always been honored to play a part in this Olivia adventure, beginning with the birth of a women's record company. The talent and strength and friendships that filled these trips were totally indicative of the thing itself and how women can be and, in fact, are.

I lead a musician's life – which I love! But truly in this way, on these Olivia trips, I've been able to travel, and see some of this amazing world upon which we live. I applaud all the work that goes into making these trips safe and joyous for women.