010 of Songs from a Sketchbook is called “Blue Skies” and you can check it out by clicking here.
Back in July, I wrote down this poem in a journal…
There’s nothing beneath me
No one that can save me
Just the chances I’m taking
And the mess I have made
There’s a new hope awaiting
If I can own what’s still breaking
Not obsess over fixing
Just accept what is mine
Have you ever felt stuck in life and powerless to do anything about it?
I felt this way back in July.
I had just ended a two year long relationship.
I had completely walked away from the Christian faith.
I had finished a new record for The Workday Release but was back to waiting on the actions of someone else in order to move forward on its release.
I was sad, lost, and frustrated with no idea what to do next.
It’s easy in these situations to become fixated on the circumstances.
But I think quite often, the only thing in the way of our individual progress is ourselves and I believe this poem was my way of choosing to acknowledge that.
Circumstances aside, the conflict that resulted within me was my own.
If I learned anything through this project, it’s that honesty leads to freedom.
I believe this is because honesty leads to honest conversation and honest conversation changes everything.
I wrote about feeling lost in 001 The Last Time I Was Home and the response to that song was overwhelming, to say the least.
I received messages full of unique insight, reassuring validation, and encouraging advice.
Every time I released another song, I’d enter another intimate, honest conversation about what it’s like to be human and my heart would shift.
It’s like I had been anxiously holding my breath for a very long time and was finally able to exhale more and more with each song.
Peace came through vulnerability and I’m grateful because I didn’t expect it.
There’s a line in Blue Skies that says, “Once again, I feel like my name, not just a pretender.”
I think that completely sums up how I felt while writing this tenth song.
It’s not about feeling fixed.
I don’t necessarily feel like I have any more answers or any less questions than when I began.
It’s not a song about arriving. It’s about acknowledging the possibility of what comes next.
010 is about celebrating what’s possible. It’s about celebrating new hope.
The kind of hope that felt far out of reach back in July.
The kind of hope I felt while writing Blue Skies.
Not some fragile feeling sparked by a turn of circumstances.
Hope doesn’t mean that only good things are ahead.
Hope for me was rooted in a return to faith; the kind of faith that helps me embrace whatever is.