Home...Revisited

Pabst Snow Picnic with my siblings

I am writing this on the last day of Winter, 2010.  I have been thinking about Home this week.  Home in the sense of people, places and things.

A year ago, I prepared to fly down to Austin with my sister to revisit our old town and attend the wedding of friends.  I had not flown in several years and had since experienced a slow, creeping anxiety about flying.  I wrote about my experience getting back on a plane in my blog post, "Why I Am Not at Home On a Plane."  Strange that a year later these feelings are resurfacing, spurred by a dream I had several days ago about flying to China with a friend and not being able to board the plane out of sheer fear and panic.  As mentioned in my blog post from a year ago, before getting on the plane again, I had to come to grips with why I really, truly, and honestly am afraid to fly.

My mind treats flying as if it is a treacherous journey full of peril, like going to the moon.  Many people I know treat flying with the same ease as riding a sleigh "to Grandmother's house we go."  Why my mind can't see flying as what it is - one of the safest ways to travel - is a mystery.  But it is not just about the act of flying on a plane for me, it is ultimately my fear of dying manifested in a tangible form - something that I do while living that reminds me of my vulnerability and the fact that, yes, I am going to die one day, and so is everyone around me.

It's no wonder then that I cling so fiercely to things that seem constant, stable, and true: my simple life in our farmhouse with my husband and dog; the thought of sleeping in my own bed with just them in the room with me; my siblings, friends, and family who live close by; trips to visit my parents, sister, Grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, in places that I've known my whole life.  There is nothing unusual about just wanting to be home, whatever home is to you in that moment.

So why do I seem to revisit these thoughts of home every year when the world is just awakening again after a long winter?  Perhaps it's just my recent dream that happened to spark these feelings again.  Or perhaps it's hormones, a passing mood, a last moment of reflection and introspection as the pensive season of winter dies again.

I do know one thing for sure: I cherish these places and people more than anything, and more than ever, as adulthood forces me to face my own vulnerability and fragility in this world, and the mortality of those around me.  I never let a day pass without spending time in face-to-face, meaningful experiences with real people (not the computer screen) - and animals - doing real activities: sampling new foods, romping around outside, sharing a laugh around the kitchen table, playing music together on a stage, toasting life over glasses of wine, taking walks with my dog and husband, giving hugs, being honest, sharing emotions and memories, playing board games, writing songs, having picnics in the snow, hosting dinner parties with almost more dogs than people...

...and for now I just want all these things in my little corner of the U.S.  I travel quite a bit with my band and because most of my family lives 3-5 hours away.  I lived and traveled around the world as a child (Norway, France, Europe, etc.), and all over the country in my 20s (Boston, Idaho, Austin).  I do love to travel and experience new things, but my instinct at this point in my life as I enter my 30s, unpredictable as instincts are, is to simplify and focus on things that are close, immediate, constant, and that I've known my whole life.

As Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros sing: "Home, yes I am home!  Home is wherever I'm with you."

Good Intentions

© Ryan Smith Photography

Do you ever feel like you're trapped in your day the moment you wake up? Like you can't quite grasp what it is you really want to do or accomplish, so you go through the motions of obligations or things you feel you should do? You spend most of the day with a vague sense that you're not really doing what you were meant to do, just what you're supposed to do.

Today was, for once, not one of those days. It easily could have been. I awoke feeling aimless and adrift. I got up and walked mindlessly down to the kitchen to let my dog out and observe the fresh blanket of snow that had been deposited overnight. Then I stared blankly out the kitchen window as I drank a glass of water, wondering if I would spend the entire day as I did the day before, unfocused and slightly dissatisfied, but not knowing why. And then it happened - a moment that shifted the trajectory of the entire day.

It was so simple. From my window, I spotted a neighbor's dog far off in the field next to our house. And he was absolutely delighting in the snow. He was alone and unattended, but completely immersed in running in circles and hopping around in the white fluff. His ears and posture were perked and eager, his tail wagged as he strutted about.

Suddenly, my day had intention again. Watching the dog for just a few moments reminded me of the essence of being. It was one of those rare glimpses, that seem to come so few and far between, of something akin to the meaning of life. How do we forget so easily? I set my glass down on the counter and ran upstairs to change. I knew I had to get outside and play, too.

So, I took the dog's lead and traipsed outside through the snowy woods with my dog and husband. We often venture out for morning walks or jogs, but because I had been given a lesson in intention, this morning felt different. I knew I needed to have this much intention each morning before I start slogging through the day.

Later, at my desk, I chanced upon an article by Christine Kane about the importance of having a morning ritual. I usually have somewhat of a routine in the morning and already do many of the things she suggests (yes, I do use a Neti Pot habitually), but have yet to make these things part of a ritual. So I took her advice and wrote out my morning ritual. Now I can begin each day with intention and focus, and not have to rely on the neighbor's dog to remind me!

I give thanks to that little dog for giving me these insights today. I have been so much more focused and happy ever since.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speaking of intentions, you can see that I haven't contributed to this blog since October. I've had "intentions" to, but have been thinking too much about my band of late. And I think that's a great way to spend my time. So more and more you will see posts specifically about The Hello Strangers, music, and creativity. These will eventually be linked and posted on our band site: www.thehellostrangers.com.

While you're at it, check out my friend Jamie's recent blog post about us!

Two Bands, a Makeshift Studio, and Murder Weapons Make For a Great Halloween Portfolio

Once again, it's time for our Halloween photo project!

In past years, we've done spooky attic shots and murder in a field. Here's what my husband and photographer, Ryan Smith, had to say about this year's project with my band, The Hello Strangers:

I'm not particularly crazy about horror films and scaring the living daylights out of myself, but there is something so intriguing and inspirational in creating images of a darker nature. I've always said that I like to make beautiful pictures and that is still very true. I strive to make great pictures every time I pick up the camera. Sometimes even the darkest subjects can make beautiful pictures when interpreted in a certain way.

This is the third year in a row that Larissa and I have created "Halloween" photos. The previous two years involved Larissa and I murdering each other in various ways. This year, the opportunity presented itself to photograph The Pale Barn Ghosts and The Hello Strangers(Larissa's band) in preparation for their Halloween show.

We knew that we wanted to shoot tight portraits of each band member against a black background. I had been thinking about this year's Halloween shot for some time and already had the lighting planned in my head . . . dark shadows, high contrast and mysterious light. We set up our studio in our neighbor's barn, which worked perfectly. I set up in the afternoon and had everything ready for the evening of the shoot. We were able to shoot 8 portraits between 6:30pm and 10:30pm. Pretty damn efficient!

The ninth portrait had to be shot the following week because Brechyn from The Hello Strangers was not able to make it to the previous shoot. We decided to try something a little different with this one by utilizing the spooky closet in my attic. I lit the scene almost identically to the other portraits to keep the mood consistent.

I wanted each band member to really bring his or her ideas to each portrait, and everyone came through. The goal was to show a little bit of each band member's personality while emphasizing our darkest human fears.

Here are a few images from this year's Halloween shoot along with a short video I created to help promote the October 31st show. To see the other 5 images from this shoot, go to theHorror portfolio on our website. To see more of the video shorts, add us as a friend onFacebook.

All photos and video © Ryan Smith Photography

What are you going to be for Halloween?

Blog Action Day 2009: Climate Change

Today is Blog Action Day! For the past several years, my blog has participated in this great event. According to the website,

"Blog Action Day is an annual event that unites the world's bloggers in posting about the same issue on the same day on their own blogs with the aim of sparking discussion around an issue of global importance. Blog Action Day 2009 will be the largest-ever social change event on the web. One day. One issue. Thousands of voices."

Topics in years past have included the Environment and Poverty.

This year's topic of Climate Change is as daunting as it is urgent. Unless you are truly living under a rock, we can no longer ignore the fact that our planet's climate is changing at an unprecedented rate. While fingers point to myriad sources of blame and excuses, the effects of climate change are already being felt all over the globe.

Take this recent Photo Essay on desertification in China by photographer Sean Gallagher as an example. For nations all over the world, climate change is now a part of their daily lives.

Complacency, Urgency, and Denial

Three narratives that seem to be prevalent in such a massive threat as climate change couldn't be more opposite in nature. I spend most of my time in the first two of these paradigms, rarely in between.

Most of the time, I find myself distracted by the "urgencies" of everyday life: paying the bills, keeping a small business afloat in a shaky economy, trying to fit in time and motivation to stay healthy by exercising and not eating out of convenience. My husband and I are generally "green" in our lifestyle choices: we compost, recycle, keep the thermostat low, avoid over-consumption, drive a low emission vehicle, purchase green products, use CFL light bulbs, turn off power strips...you get the idea. But beyond these nanoscale actions, a whole force beyond our understanding is at work in the atmosphere around us. So, in essence, we are COMPLACENT in that we are hardly able to fathom what "climate change" really means on the grand scale. It's not that we don't care, we just find it hard to focus on something so intangible and colossal when there are more immediate matters to take care of on a daily basis.

Then there are those heart-pounding moments of URGENCY when I hear something on the news about climate change that makes me stand up from my seat, say something like, "We have to do something!" and proceed to stumble through the house like a lunatic, running into walls. This reaction seems to be just as unproductive as being complacent and detached. What am I supposed to do with this information and the emotions it conjures up? How can I have any effect on something so massively beyond my control? How are we supposed to sleep at night knowing that everything we see and know around us could be destroyed in 100 years? Ahhhhhh!

Maybe all we need is for someone to tell us WHAT TO DO - supply some concrete answers or explanations to this incredibly convoluted topic. Easier said than done, obviously.

And then there's DENIAL, and we all know how productive that is. This is an ideology that many in our country have pledged their allegiance to, and have thus set aside any urgency to dwell on the topic of climate change altogether. This is most certainly the worst, most detrimental approach possible. After all, the potential consequences for not acting on the threats of climate change far outweigh the time, effort, and money we should be putting into preventing them in the first place. We can't afford NOT to put our best feet forward, regardless of who is to blame or whether or not you believe the scientists' premonitions.

Besides, it wouldn't hurt us to be a little more responsible with our natural resources, regardless of whether or not we "believe" in climate change.

So, do I have any palpable answers for you today? Unfortunately, no more than I would have a few years ago. I just hope we find more concrete ways to change the fate of our planet - and soon - before I run into a wall and knock myself out.

For more Blog Action Day posts, click here.

Turning 30: I'll Cry If I Want To

I lay on the lawn chair like a sack. My head was heavy from a happy-birthday cold and a few too many last-night-to-be-29 drinks the evening before. Was this really my 30th birthday? Shouldn't I have been feeling at the pinnacle of health and vibrancy on this day of days? Could the day have snuck up so quickly, and why couldn't it wait until I had time to shake this stupid cold?

The morning sun twinkled against the white plastic chair slats as I smashed my cheek against them, staring languidly down through them to the grass below. At least it was warm in the sun, and I didn't have to accomplish anything in particular today. I had grown accustomed to this feeling of listlessness over the past several days; I barely had the brain power to contemplate my passage into 30-dome.

I suppose the old and wise would tell me that this is exactly how life is going to be from now on. They would say, "Life is full of disappointments. Just accept that things aren't always going to turn out how you want." I tell you, no matter how many times I turn that adage over in my mind, it still remains unacceptable to me. There has got to be more to life than surrendering helplessly to every disappointment.

I never planned to be anywhere else than the lake for my 30th birthday weekend. And despite my cold, and the fact that several people who planned to come to my party had to back out, I (underneath the gloom) was utterly content to be there surrounded by my family. I had had more than a few moments of feeling sorry for myself during the week preceding the big day, and my family members, in their undying effervescence, cheered me greatly. After all, wasn't 30 when you stopped crying over people not coming to your birthday party?

The next day, at my party, my husband surprised me with a sparkling, retro, baby blue and cream reissue 1950s electric guitar. In the midst of my wallowing, I had almost forgot that there was going to be celebration - and presents - with my family and friends surrounding me. There was no longer any room, or time, to feel despondent. When I pulled the wrapper off that shiny guitar, I wept into my hands, completely taken by surprise. Everyone had stopped what they were doing when they saw the large, wrapped package emerge from the cottage. And now, as tears streamed down my cheeks and a big smile began to form on my face, they watched expectantly and then applauded as I held the guitar up exultantly for all to see. I gave my husband his well-deserved hug and stepped out of the gloom.

Perhaps this is exactly how life is going to be from now on (and always has been). Just when you think life has completely trashed the party, through the mess come the most beautiful moments in the shape of shiny electric guitars, elderflower liqueur, tears of surprise, those darling faces of your family around you, or a friend driving through the dark for 5 hours to see you in the last hours of your birthday. We must never take these things for granted. Luckily for us, life will never let us.

For your enjoyment, here is the series of photographs of me opening my guitar (taken by Ricky MacPherson):

Ryan gets his hug

My Danelectro

Ryan even made me a sweet card with my face superimposed!

Roadside Kitsch to Rugged Landscapes: Photo Review of Creative Highways 2009

Now that we have had time to look over the hundreds of images Ryan took on our Northwestern tour this July, we have hand-picked six that stand out as truly capturing the story of the Great American road trip.

Ironically, all these photos were taken within the first quarter of our trip, when we were most hungry for creative inspiration everywhere we looked. We are excited to see these images come together to represent our experience.

What are your favorites?

"Ben Biking" in Sparta, Wisconsin

Jolly Green Giant, Blue Earth, Minnesota

Picnic Shell, Badlands, South Dakota

RV in Bighorn National Forest, Wyoming

Summer storm on the Snake River Plain, Idaho

Bivouac camping at Smith Rock, Oregon

All photos © Chace + Smith Photography

Creative Highways Project: Closing Remarks

(posted by Larissa)

These last few weeks since we returned from our trip have had us immersed again in our domestic/business lives: sales calls, laundry, marketing, reorganizing, socializing with friends and family, weddings, budgeting, and so on. We have easily allowed the time to go by without collecting or writing any closing thoughts about our epic Northwestern tour this July.

Did we actually just do that? Did we really drive for 7414 miles in our tiny car, with our fairly large dog, and a few spare belongings?

Yes, we did. And though it seems but a blip in the grand journey of life, its importance to our creativity, emotional and physical health, and lives is paramount. We will never feel the same sense of freedom we did on that trip - no children, no major liabilities or responsibilities (aside from a small business) waiting for us at home. We may never feel the same sense of patriotism we did when traversing the vast expanses of our country's geography. We will not as easily feel the spirit of the road in our bones, even if we write about it and try to capture it in photographs. "I don't want to lose this sense of spirit we've been reminded of on this trip!" I exclaimed while on a beach in Idaho overlooking one of the deepest river canyons in the Northern hemisphere. I haven't lost it, but I find it harder and harder to really grasp now that I'm back in the East, amidst my tasks and responsibilities. And it may get harder unless we seek it out in new ways, again and again.

When we wrote a summary of our Creative Highways Project on our website prior to our trip, we described our purpose as "searching for the last bastions of Americana." What does this mean, and is Americana really disappearing? I believe our search uncovered more than a yes or no answer to this question.

In essence, Americana is reinvented every day in this country through greasy diner culture, RVs crawling along precarious precipices, 5 cent coffee in Wall Drug, SD, being recommended a live reggae event by a Japanese sushi chef in Boulder, Colorado, and streaming indie rock via satellite radio in the middle of the Utah desert. Americana is a clash of tradition and contemporary artifacts and associations. It is at the same time disappearing as it is being recreated.

What does Americana mean for each of us? Where is that sacred space of nostalgic national identity we each hold in our hearts? For us, we searched for the "last bastions" of Americana but found, in many ways we did not expect, that Americana is alive and well. We found it exists for the collective as well as within our own individual experiences. So, it is what you see outside your car window, or from a high mountain trail, and how you see it in your heart and mind simultaneously.

Americana is the essence of all great traditions, fads, oddities, rituals, songs, poems, vistas, highways, and ideas that make up this great country, all rolled into one word. Americana is what we make it, and it's always there to experience whenever we want.

For now, we see it every morning when we look out our farmhouse windows at the mist shrouded hills of Pennsylvania. We find it around a table at an Irish pub, passing the guitar, and swapping stories and songs. We hear it in the strains of church bells floating up the road, and taste it at our favorite Mexican taco joint, with all the 'fixins.

We found it on the road, and we discover it again and again right here at home.

Thanks to all our friends that greeted us along our route this July - you are our Americana, and our true inspirations!