ghosts of Ontario

Earlier today:
Back in the van, relaxing again. Cruising along through beautiful Ontario countryside. It's a warm day, the sky is soft blue. Newborn leaves on the trees - that soft, luminous green. Ah, the sweet relief of being on the open road. A lot of chaos and hurry and flurry in the last 24 hours. I've got a prankster ghost following me around. I've been losing things regularly, and it's disconcerting, because I'm not one to lose things. The first thing that I lost, 5 days ago, was my ability to read parking restriction signs. (The resulted in the rental van being towed, riding bikes to a remote meat-packing district of Toronto, and a fee of $260 to recover the vehicle.) Then I lost my beautiful sheath of maps that I'd carefully prepared for our travels, with addresses and directions. Gone before our first day of driving. I also lost both copies of our itinerary. I lost my immunity to common germs, and landed a cold. And then, my crowning achievement, I lost my wallet. I put it on the roof of the van while getting gas yesterday. And then drove away. I realized this an hour later, when we were already rushing to make it to Ottawa for the show. In the midst of the ensuing self-recrimination, my phone rang for a radio interview (on-the-air) that I'd quite forgotten about. What trickery! What tomfoolery!
But it's all inconsequential. I have my cell phone, which means I can do anything. (Like cancel credit cards and call for directions and text friends for google maps.) It didn't take any wind out of my sails. You've gotta live for these pickles. These saaaavory pickles. Have to think of them as part of a long elaborate game, with pitfalls and obstacles and goblins to outsmart. It's a game of strategy and problem solving. Acceptance is the ultimate weapon. If you can accept the setbacks and not waste time resisting and working yourself into a state, then you can be more efficient at working out a solution. And a good deal of the time, if you let go of attachment to things going exactly as planned, then fate turns around and cuts you a break. This morning's case in point: I got a call from the Napanee police. Someone had turned in my wallet.
Last night's show was great. I was overly tired, so I had a few dicey moments at the beginning, but then my back-up generator kicked in, the beads of sweat began to form, and the music took care of itself. Another extremely attentive and supportive audience. The band is really crystallizing now, and I feel rock solid in my piano parts. But singing is still a challenge. So hard to strain to listen in that still-counter-intuitive way, to the voice coming out of the monitors and not my mouth, to stay in tune. I'm conscious that my voice is restrained because of this. It's not a handicap, and nobody would notice but me, but I know it could be a lot more powerful and expressive. I think it's something I'm only going to get better at with more practice playing shows. I also need to practice at home with the mic endlessly. I've just taken the singing for granted and been focused on the piano, and am now seeing the folly of this. The voice is the focal point for most people. It's the easiest element to connect to. We'll see how I do tonight, in London.

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