Raindrops and Loneliness

A spring thunderstorm reminds me of a sad time in my life. After a years long, drawn-out, dead-horses-beaten relationship finally ended, I had met someone new. We started dating on Valentine's Day. It was a fire-y, soul-connection-but-never-gonna-really-happen thing. When the spring rain inevitably extinguished our flame, I was much sadder than I thought I would be. It rained what seemed like every day that spring and summer. I spent many nights alone, sitting on my bed, writing sad songs and listening to the rain fall.

It's the same time of year now. Today's rain brings me back to that sad time as if it were a moment ago. The damp, warm air, the persistent hum of raindrops landing on the roof and leaves and ground, the smell of green. It took me a long time to get over. Funny how certain people can do that to you, even when your time together was brief, even when it was never going to work anyway.

That was the summer it became clear it was time to leave Albany, where I'd grown up and spent my first seven years out of college. I had always meant to leave, but I kept finding reasons to stay. Through the tears and the rain that summer, I could only find comfort in the idea of a dramatically different life. But it felt possible.

Summer, fall, and winter would all come before I finally left, but I did. I spent one year and four months in DC, and then moved to NYC, where I've been for eleven months.

I went back to Albany for a few days this week. I visit often, but it was particularly difficult to leave this time. It was warm, green, peaceful, spacious. I saw my family. My little cousins are more grown up every time I see them. My mom did my laundry, which is an absolute treat; I snuggled with my dog who has been staying with my parents since I moved to NYC. My bed was comfortable.

I had never understood why people pined for their hometowns after they left. If it was so great, why did you leave? Now that I'm gone, I understand. I couldn't stay there, but I miss so much of the life I had there. I miss the people I love. I understand why people left and came back.

I'm not sure if I'll ever feel at home in New York. New York is a long series of partitioned segments. Small rooms all stacked on top of one another. Sometimes it feels like the buildings are too high to feel connected to much of anything. From the ground, you can't see the greater context of where you are.

But it's more than just the buildings. The community I had in Albany was built over the course of 28 years. I grew up with a gregarious "connector" mother who knows almost everyone. I was involved in theater, music, and running communities. I worked at and frequented the Honest Weight Food Co-Op, where you see the same people every time you go.

As time goes on, I'll find more of a community here, I think. It will never replace or replicate the past. Then again, despite the sense of community I remember, I also remember how lonely I felt three years ago, while still living in it, sitting on my bed and listening to the rain.

Yoga teaches that separateness is just an illusion, that really, we are all part of one another, and part of a connected Universe. Perhaps we are like rain drops that can seem separate from one another for a while, but are destined to hit the earth, join together, and become part of a greater body of water.

Still, I imagine a rain drop gets lonely from time to time in the middle of the ocean.

Despite the bonds and communities we build, we can still feel alone.

But if we know that everyone feels this solitude at times, it circles back around and joins us together in yet another way.

PR vs. Music

I have always been inclined to both music and PR. I started as a voice major in college and wound up with a communications degree. I love figuring out the most interesting part of someone's story and then telling it to the world. When I find something, or someone, I believe in, I spread the message.

I was successful in translating this inclination to my non-profit work in advocacy and communications, however, although I have been singing and writing songs for basically my entire life, it is only as of late that I have begun applying my PR inclinations to my music.

About a year ago, I jumped in and began my PR campaign around Casey Dinkin's music. Website, blog, Twitter, Facebook, e-newsletter, business cards, photos, press releases, etc.

It's more than a full time job. But I don't want to be a full time PR person. I want to be a full time musician.

So why have I been acting like a full time PR person?

Because somehow I got it into my head that all I needed, for my musical career to really move forward, was the right branding, or the right media coverage.

But does that really work? You can have all the press in the world, but does press actually make people go listen to your music? When is the last time you discovered your new favorite artist by reading an article about them?

I don't know about you, but I still find my new favorite artists by hearing them play or hearing their recordings.

It's similar to PR in any other field. You can have great advertising, great image, but your product has to hold up. It's not about getting into the New York Times or a spot on Ellen DeGeneres.

It's about making your music.

So I'm going to work on making some more music.

Of course, I can't abandon PR completely.

But the music itself is so much more important.

An Inspiring Story of an Amazing Woman

Nicole Piper Adams and her daughters. Photo courtesy of The Post Standard (Gary Walts)

I came across an amazing story yesterday. Nicole Piper Adams is a friend of a friend of mine from college. A month ago, she turned 30. She was 25 years old and pregnant with her second child when she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. When she was told that surgery could compromise her baby's chances of survival, she delayed the surgery. In the next few months, the tumor doubled in size, and she needed to have the surgery. The surgery caused Traumatic Brain Injury, which put Nicole into a coma. While in the coma, her daughter was born, healthy. Nicole eventually came out of the coma, but five years later, is still struggling to recover from the brain injury. She requires round-the-clock care, is mostly wheelchair-bound, and requires tubes to assist with breathing and feeding.

But the article is written in such a positive way that you can't help but feel the life, hope, and determination in Nicole and her family. The article details Nicole's long and difficult road to recovery, working with various therapists regularly to improve her mobility and speech. She and her family are still incredibly hopeful. She has already exceeded many people's expectations for how much she would be able to do, and her plan is to continue on that trajectory.

Check out the article here: http://blog.syracuse.com/cny/2012/05/diagnosed_with_a_brain_tumor_five_years_ago_marcellus_mother_still_struggles_to_recover.html

I absolutely believe that Nicole will continue to make progress and amaze people with her recovery. Her commitment to living fully and fiercely in is evident. Her incredible spirit shines through in what she does, and what she believes. And she is surrounded by the love of her family, and clearly has so much love for them, and her beautiful daughters.

Right now, Nicole's family is working to win a contest that will get them a wheelchair-accessible vehicle. This will allow Nicole the freedom to get out and about more, and live even more fully. Winning is based on the number of votes received, so please take a moment to check out the site and vote for Nicole:

http://www.nmeda.com/mobility-awareness-month/heroes/new-york/marcellus/722/nicole-adams

To Nicole and your family, if you read this: Thank you for being an example of what it means to live with passion, determination, hope, and above all, limitless love.