It's Gonna Be a Happy New Year

People are excited about the New Year and feel good about its possibilities. This is my conclusion based on chats with the guy I have been dating (what???? yes!), the barista at the coffee shop, my former coworker who I had brunch with today, and the facebook statuses I've seen yesterday and today.

2011 was a turning point for me, the year I decided to live my dream. This has been an incredible period of time, particularly the last three months since I started working on music full time, and then for the past two months of living in Manhattan. Living in the pulse of the city, starting to record an album, launching a Kickstarter campaign which has so far raised over $1,700 in a week and brought much support and love my way...and also, in the past month or so, spending time with "special someone" who is bringing additional joy into my life, at a time when I didn't think that things could possibly be any better.

I'm glad that people are feeling good about 2012 because big questions will be answered for me in the first few months. Starting with January 23, when I will either make my Kickstarter funding goal or live with the consequences of an unsuccessful campaign). But assuming it does get funded (because that's what I have to assume!) it will also be a year that sees the production and release of my first album, my heart and soul and dream launched into the world for its critique. Do I sink or swim? Where do I live at the end of March, when my current wonderful apartment situation comes to its natural end? What will I do to support myself? Will I be able to set up a tour to promote my album, as I have planned? Will the bookings/album sales be enough to create a sustainable life for myself, or will I have to go back to non-profit work or get some kind of other job to support myself?

There are lots of unanswered questions, but I suppose everyone has them.

What I am realizing is this: Living a dream is a building project. It's a long term project. It's a journey. When I moved to NYC, my goal was to transition in a matter of months to doing music as a profession. Now I realize it may take much longer to make that a reality. And then there's the possibility that I might never be able to support myself on music alone. It's hard to say this, especially after seven months of rallying around this exact success marker.

But, most musicians don't make a living on music alone. I'd spend my life in good company, at least.

Would this mean my quest to live my dream has failed?

Seven months ago I probably would have said yes.

But now that I'm here, I see the dream less as any particular thing I'm achieving and more as the building itself. Building a body of work. Building a business. Building ability. Building a network. Building opportunities. And as long as I keep building, and as long as it keeps feeling like what I am authentically meant to do with my life, then I am living my dream.

So I guess with that said, I look forward to the unveiling of answers to my questions in 2012--another year of creation, discovery, and love.

Much love to everyone who has been a part of my 2011. Wishing you joy in 2012's answers to your questions.

--Casey

The Power of Someone You Know

There is power in someone you know.

I'm not talking about "know" as in, I "know" Oprah Winfrey or I "know" Taylor Swift. Not "know" as in, "know of" or "recognize their name and lives and work." I'm talking about know for real, like, you now or at one point have encountered this person regularly over the course of your everyday lives. Maybe you lived near them or went to school with them. You know things about them, you went to the same places they did, you have people in common with them.

I'm talking about Sean Rowe.

I know him, and you may too--if you do, you are probably from the Albany area, too. I know him because he is a singer/songwriter and I met him through playing a set at one of his shows, and going to some open mics he hosted, and from both being member/workers at the local food co-op.

Sean Rowe is a BADASS singer/songwriter. Please don't take my word for it. Check him out for yourself; you'll be glad you did:
 http://soundcloud.com/antirecords/sets/sean-rowe-magic

The general consensus in Albany was that Sean Rowe was great; Sean Rowe was tops. In fact, the best compliment I ever got about my music was from my former roommate, Jen, who was similarly enamored with Sean. One day, I played her a song I had just finished writing, and she said, "Casey, if you keep practicing, you could be as good as Sean Rowe someday."

You know how some compliments just stick with you, like cherished objects you can't bear to part with even if they have no practical value in your life? Being told that I could someday be as good as Sean Rowe was unforgettable. That's how great Sean was. And I knew him.

One day in early 2011, I was sitting in my DC apartment, and got a Times Union article sent to me from my mom, which talked about how Sean had gotten signed to ANTI Records, the record label whose roster includes the legendary Tom Waits. Sean was also slated to go on a world tour with Marketa Irglova from The Swell Season, who rose to fame in the movie Once (which is now a musical, coincidentally, also featuring two people I know: Mike Zygo and Lucas Papaelias, fellow Geneseo alums).

Anyway, I was ecstatic to hear this news about Sean. So deserved. He was a pavement pounding, wilderness exploring, real deal musician, and now he was getting a huge opportunity to move his music career forward in a significant way.

And then, I heard the compliment in my head, for the first time in a long time, as if pulled out of a drawer I hadn't opened in many years. But maybe even more exciting, since it was just as beautiful as ever, and perhaps even more so, now:

"If you keep practicing, you could be as good as Sean Rowe someday."

Well golly gee. I better get practicing.

Around this same time, I was volunteering weekly at a program for children in southeast DC, teaching yoga. The program is called Horton's Kids, and its mission is to help give children in Ward 8, a high-poverty area, opportunities for education and enrichment. I blogged a bit about this earlier in the year. It was an incredible experience for me, and I feel like I learned way more from these kids than I taught them.

One evening, I was having a conversation with one of the other volunteers, who was very involved with the program as a tutor. She was telling me that since Horton's Kids has now been around for several years, it is getting easier to recruit children and keep them in it than it had been in the beginning, particularly boys, because now, "other boys that they knew" had gone through the program and were able to graduate high school, and even go to college. She was talking about how powerful it was for the younger children to actually know someone, someone who came from their same neighborhood, and the same circumstances as they did, who went to college. That it became a real, legitimate possibility for them, an option for them, in a way that it had never been before, when they actually knew someone who had done it.

The power of someone you know.

And then my thoughts turned to this: We are all someone that someone knows. So in each of our lives we have this incredible opportunity, to legitimize or help people believe in the possibilities inside of them, based on our own achievements and accomplishments. And I'm not talking about becoming Mother Theresas or Martin Luther Kings, I'm talking about being someone's sister, brother, mother, daughter, friend, colleague, neighbor. We, often unknowingly, inspire, lift, push, and positively influence the people we know, the people we really know. And it's not about giving them advice, or baking them cookies. It's about being our own highest selves, and pushing our own limits, and accomplishing our own dreams. This is what truly inspires those around us to do the same for themselves.

I would love to someday be touring around the world and I would love to get picked up by ANTI Records or another great label that loves and supports its artists. But I never fathomed these things as possibilities for myself until I found out about Sean. I really believe that Sean's success was a catapult for my own dream breaking loose out of its chest of inconceivability, where I had locked it up and tried to forget about it for many years. It was a huge turning point.

There are thousands of artists making records and touring the world. Obviously, they have all had a certain degree of success in their endeavors, yet none of their successes sparked thoughts in me that I could also be successful in music. It was only Sean's success which inspired me toward believing that my own dreams might come true.

Maybe I will achieve this level of success, or greater. Maybe I will never achieve this level of success.

But regardless of what I do or don't accomplish with music in my lifetime, I am doing more, doing better, pushing myself, creating, sharing. I am pushing myself to be the best I can possibly be, and accomplish the most I possibly can.

And Sean's success is a huge inspiration and influence.

This is the power of someone you know.

Year of Authenticity: In Review

First of all, I have to say I am so proud of myself for keeping this blog up for an entire year. This was my original goal back in January of 2011 when I started it, and I did it! (I had originally planned to blog once a week, which didn't happen, but I did make it through the year and I have 47 blog entries total--48 when I publish this one.)

Last year, back in January, I had just finished yoga teacher training, and was exploring the concept of authenticity. In hindsight, I think I felt like there was something in my life that wasn't authentic, although I didn't fully understand that at the time.

There was a long series of events that happened over the course of late 2010 and the beginning of 2011 which led me to realize what was not authentic about my life: I was not pursuing my passion. In fact, I was rallying against it. I was hiding it. I had relocated to DC in early 2010, and most of the people I knew there had no idea I was a singer and songwriter. I had come to establish my "real career" as an advocate in DC.

But I got to DC and developed an obsession with yoga. And yoga led me to explore things like "letting go of fear," "letting go of ego," "surrendering to your highest self," and "being who you truly are."

And when I dug down to the deepest part of myself, the truest part of myself, the part of myself that was unchanged by any given year, any given circumstances of my life, any given phase or interest I was going through, any given relationship, I found one thing that spanned through all of this, uninterrupted:

Writing songs.

I've written songs since I was very young. The first I can remember was age seven, with a friend of mine in second grade, Erin Goldberg. We wrote a song called "Oh, My Days are Going Down." (Ha!)

When I think back, I see songwriting as part of every phase in my childhood, from adding songs to the play I produced, directed and starred in, in fourth grade, which apparently I decided needed songs, to musicals I started writing while I was in elementary school, to songs for various school projects and on my own in middle and high school.

I college, I wrote many songs but rarely shared them with anyone, except a rather extensive catalog which I wrote for the sorority I joined.

After college I wrote songs, and eventually started sharing them for the first time through the band I was singing in. And then after the band broke up, I started playing them out on my own.

Even for the stretch of time where I wasn't playing out, I was always writing songs.

But I never thought it was particularly important.

Or particularly relevant.

Eventually I moved to DC, to pursue what I thought was important and relevant. But funny, even there, I would be constantly writing songs. Every day as I walked around my neighborhood, walked back and forth to work, I'd have these songs popping into my head.

And I didn't really think much of it.

Doesn't everyone have songs popping into their heads?

But somehow, over the course of my time in DC, I started realizing that the songwriting was particular to me, to who I am, and that perhaps it even mattered. I think I also realized that it was always in my life, and that based on that continuity, it was likely not going away.

And then came my epiphany--that if I died in my sleep all my songs would die with me--followed shortly thereafter by the decision to move to New York City and pursue my dream, the life I had imagined, a career as a singer and songwriter.

It was a petrifying thing to admit. But every time I told someone, I felt great. And people's reactions to it were much different than I had anticipated. People were excited for me, and supportive of me. I had thought they would think I was crazy.

But this is who I truly am. This is my authentic self. I am a singer and songwriter.

As I stepped into realizing this, accepting it and pursuing it intentionally, I felt a veritable wave of authenticity overcome me. It was a relief. I felt at peace.

And here I am in New York City, pursuing music and songwriting with my fullest intention, and although many aspects of this life leave me very up in the air about the future, I feel mostly peaceful. I feel like I am in line with my life's purpose, and in line with myself in a very real way. I feel authentic.

But....BUT...

The quest for authenticity is far from over. Because there are all these other pieces that struggle to align themselves with what is true and good and real, and real parts that conflict with each other towards the same end.

And sometimes I don't even realize that things are out of line until they've been going on for a long time, or even until after they are over.

So what I have realized is that the effort towards authenticity is ongoing, never-ending. Seeking authenticity is not a short-term endeavor or a goal to be accomplished by the end of a year, through a blog. It has to be a continual theme, because life will keep throwing out distractions and complications. And also, as we are constantly evolving and ever-changing, authentic expressions of ourselves will change as well, as time goes on.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

So...what now?

Sometimes it's just nice to unload the contents of my mind into blog form. I am settling into the lovely reality of living in the East Village of Manhattan, my temporary refuge from the unpleasant cesspool of trying to find a non-horrible living space on the cheap in the C of NY. The future looms over me like far off gray cloud and I long for some longer term security or plan. I can stay here until the end of March. Then what?

I'm trying not to worry. I was so worried at my last juncture, and everything turned out swell. In fact, every time I think back to the times I have been the most worried (and these were always the times of uncertainty and impending--but not clearly defined--changes) things have always worked out for the best. So this time, I'm trying not to worry, but I wonder where the fine line is drawn between not worrying and being completely irresponsible/not planning/flying by the seat of your pants.

I have to keep reminding myself that I was called to do this. It was a loud voice, not a soft voice, and I heard it clearly. Go to New York, and live your dream. Sing, write songs, record an album, go on tour. This is what you are meant to do.

So here I am, and faced with the realities of this calling, which are largely based in the lack of financial return on the pursuit of music. Something I realized long ago, of course. A key component in my initial decision to skip over my dream and live my backup plan. Music doesn't pay; music doesn't make sense.

But I didn't make sense in the previous iteration of my life. Somehow, this makes so much more sense.

But in the day to day of it, sometimes slips back into making not so much sense, and I find myself thinking, "What am I doing? Why am I here? Where am I going?"

And then the darker, "Am I delusional? Who am I to think that I can make it as a musician when there are so many people here that have been actively pursuing this same thing for so much longer than I, struggling for so much longer? And here I am, showing up and thinking that somehow I can just come in here and do this, as if it's some training program where you just have to sign up and pay your money and go to classes and complete assignments and then you get your certificate at the end and "boom!" you did it.

I'm at the internship level, really. And even the CEOs can't pay their rent in this business.

But none of this matters, really, because this is what I'm doing. I think I have explored every other possible option and none of them are it. I can go down those paths in my mind but then, after a certain point, I can't even think about them anymore.

So I guess it's worth recognizing this: Any other path would be difficult, too. There would be doubts and uncertainty and risk and aggravation. And all for the sake of something that was supposed to cause less of that than the thing I am currently doing. Sort of like, staying in a relationship for the physical part, and then one night your honey has a headache. And you're like, this is the reason I'm here! How dare you let me down in this way!

But if you love someone, there are so many reasons to be there beyond the physical, and I think that's what it's like when you are pursuing your true passion. It can be one long headache but it's still worth staying. Because you'd rather be lying there in frustration than having a wild ride somewhere else. Well, maybe the wild ride would be okay for a bit, but after a while, it just wouldn't be right, especially when the inevitable headache set in.

So you gotta stick it out. That's what you signed up for, and it's worth it. You didn't sign up just for the glorious moments, you signed up for the day to day; you signed up for the process. If being successful at any given thing was simple, then success wouldn't be anything special.

Okay my computer is about to die with no outlet in sight, so I guess I'm done for now...

Update on Authenticity

I came to New York to follow my dream and New York is setting it on fire. The talent and passion and drive of the people I am meeting here, artists, writers, musicians, dreamers, business founders...is lifting my spirit. We are the music makers. We are the dreamers of the dreams. (Willy Wonka said it best.)

I find myself explaining my past more than my present here. By and large, the people I meet understand what I am doing and why. By and large, they are doing the same thing, or a variation of it. The people I am meeting are living the lives I had long-admired, but from a very far-off distance. Now I am one of them, I am living the kind of life that I had once longed for, but seemed so far from my own reality.

I am hitting my stride. I don't know exactly what I am doing, still. Except writing, creating, sharing--doing what it is that I do, that I have always done. The major difference is that I am doing it intentionally, purposefully now, instead of as an afterthought. It feels right, it feels good, and it feels authentic. My life feels authentic now.

Of course, there are still those things that I struggle with talking about, accepting, facing, but I think what I have realized is that authenticity is a continual effort. Every difficult conversation I finally bring myself to have. Every time I forgive myself for something I wouldn't hold against anyone else. Every day I truly believe, with all my heart, that I am completely okay just as I am--even if I can only believe it for a moment--this is all in the direction of authenticity.