Photo: Red-winged Blackbird at Biidaasige Park, Toronto, August 2026. If you live in the Toronto area, I hope you’ll be able to visit this absolutely wonderful new public space at the foot of the Don River. The name is pronounced bee-daw-sih-geh and comes from the Anishinaabemowin/Ojibwemowin language meaning “sunlight shining toward us.”

Aimless creative exploration—what’s the point of it?

What’s more, can we actually afford it? Aren’t there more important things we’re supposed to be doing? In this age of AI, aren’t we supposed to be finding answers as fast as humanly (and non-humanly) possible?

The other day I found myself recalling Mary Oliver’s timeless poem The Summer Day while I spent a considerable amount of time learning to play a little riff on the guitar and making up a song to go with it. I hope Mary would have approved…so I included a few clear allusions to her poem in tribute to her. (While working on this post, I also enjoyed the new documentary Mary Oliver: Saved by the Beauty of the World, which I found on Apple+. Another song of mine, Lucky Star, was partially inspired by her poem “Why I Wake Early.”)

Back in 1937, creative writing instructor Brenda Ueland recommended what she called “moodling.”

“Our idea that we must always be energetic and active is all wrong. […] The imagination needs moodling—long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering. […] If you write, good ideas must come welling up into you so that you have something to write. If good ideas do not come at once, or for a long time, do not be troubled at all. Wait for them. Put down the little ideas however insignificant they are. But do not feel, any more, guilty about idleness and solitude.” 1

We all need periods of seemingly aimless wandering-about to create enough space for intuition and wisdom to emerge. Continual striving (fed by today’s overgrowth of instant answers) clogs up the channel from which Spirit flows. Without meandering (in thought, in conversation, in prayer, in doodling, in humming, in experimenting) we lose touch with our creative soul.

Honouring times of meandering, wherever we find them, may be the one thing that brings us back to centre…to the stable place of exactly where we are.

When (or where) have you ‘meandered’ lately? What was it like for you?

What was I supposed to do today? / What important role was mine to play? / Something good I could prepare and bring / if it weren’t for my meandering / Meandering…

Time is running out, I’m sure you’ve heard / Wasting it is surely for the birds / So why’m I watching them up on the wing? / Them and me, only meandering / Meandering…

Yes everything will die and much too soon / How’d it get to be late afternoon? / I’ve been trying to sort out all these silver strings / They only add up to meandering / Meandering…

So tell me, what was I supposed to do? / Someone has the answers, maybe you / What could be the wild and precious thing / still to find in my meandering / Meandering.

I’m celebrating fifty years of songwriting this fall. (Yes, that is a lot of meandering!) You can find all my formally recorded songs, in seven albums, here on Bandcamp (where you can purchase if you wish, or listen for free). Right now, I’m working on a new recording that includes many of the songs I’ve posted first here on Substack since January, 2025. Also, you can find my book of reflections on creativity Songwriting as Soul Work: Songs and the Inner Life available online and through many independent bookstores. Thank you so much for listening and for being here.

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About a week ago, my husband and I went out for a walk after breakfast. It was a fine summer day, unlike stormy ones we’d had recently. Whenever a storm comes up, I worry for the many old tall trees lining our street, which is densely populated with young families and older people like ourselves.

But this morning was calm and sunny, without a wind. We walked up our street, stopped briefly at a local vegetable market, and came back to find that in the time we’d been gone, a huge branch from a giant tree had fallen, completely without warning. All the neighbours had come out of their houses to see what had happened. We met a young woman with her baby and offered space in our freezer in case the power stayed out for long.

Then I left to attend my weekly online dream group. In a striking synchronicity, the reflection of one group member (thousands of miles away) involved a character named after a tree, and the story of a dramatically falling branch.

It was as if something was saying “pay attention!”

There are meaningful symbols falling around us all over the place. Just walk down the street and you’re likely to be hit by one.

So it wasn’t surprising that when I picked up my guitar, intending to work on something else, the fallen tree was still in the middle of Creative Consciousness, calling to be worked with.

The song that emerged was simple...and oddly old. You’ll hear right away that it sounds like a traditional folk-blues song (not something I usually do), so “The Fallen Tree” is in some ways a measure of respect for the older forms, the passing-away of voices, the aspects of life once thought to be unshakeable.

The spaciousness of the song (which may be unfinished, or remain simply a sketch) will, I hope, offer some room for you to find your own meaning in the metaphor.

What “fallen trees” exist in your life today?

How have you survived their falling? Have they disrupted your life, wreaked havoc, or opened up new space for Creative Spirit?

What (or who) is now “gathering” within and around you, in the wake of the falling?

Have powerful symbols shown up in your life recently (such as the tree here) and have they shown up more than once, or in more than one way?

And finally…may we all continue to gather around one another during times of loss and change.

May we move with gratitude through Life, aware of how very fortunate we are to be here.

Postscript, in full disclosure: As it turned out, it was only a large branch that fell, and the rest of the tree seems healthy so far. Still, the song came out this way.

Fallen tree, down upon the road / Fallen tree, down upon the road / Now we’ve all come to gather all around that fallen tree / Now we’ve all come to gather all around that fallen tree.

Little baby, in his mother’s arms / Little baby in his mother’s arms / He is wide-eyed and looking all around that fallen tree / He is wide-eyed and looking all around that fallen tree.

Young and old, neighbours and friends / Young and old, strangers and friends / We have all come together taking in that fallen tree / We have all come together taking in that fallen tree.

Yes we were there just before it fell / We all were there just before it fell / Now we’re wondering what secrets it can tell, that fallen tree / Now we’re wondering what secrets it can tell, that fallen tree.

Fallen tree, down upon the road.

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It’s been awhile since I’ve written to you, which at first had me a little worried.

Aren’t Substack posts supposed to be frequent, regular and predictably timed? Having established a rhythm, aren’t we supposed to keep up the pace? What if the pace changes? What if I never post again?

The ego imposes so many regulations on creative effort, providing helpful structure on the one hand, yet often overriding the deeper needs of the soul.

We know, intuitively, that Life requires light and dark, presence and absence, activity and rest…with so many gradations in between. And yet (speaking for myself) the desire for steady progress and accomplishment often leads me to prioritize bright productivity at the expense of quieter, less impressive times.

This song honours both states of being, in a simple way. It’s a new hymn, arising directly out of my Unitarian Universalist ministry context, written to honour a respected colleague who is now moving into a new season of life and career. At the same time, my husband retired and we now find ourselves haltingly trying to establish a new rhythm of life that works well for us.

As I try to remind myself: when I’m feeling out-of-step with some supposed optimum pace I have in mind, Life holds everything in a Wholeness that includes pause, silence and absence. The word ‘holy’ is derived from words for ‘whole’ and ‘complete.’ When I relax into the Wholeness Of What Is, I notice beauty where it’s often least expected (such as the daylilies on my walk yesterday, above).

The video for the song “Holy Rhythm” also included, completely unexpectedly, honourings of rhythms. First of all, I couldn’t get the lighting “right” (because of the bright sunlight outside) so I appear more in shadow than I intended. This might be considered a technical flaw in production…yet I think there’s meaning in it. Also, I didn’t notice until later that the two windows provide a rhythmic balance of their own, and a “holding” frame of stability and balance.

Wishing all of you meaning, joy and beauty…in whatever way the rhythm of your life is unfolding today.

Every life is made / of endings and beginnings / Every wave arising / falling back in time/ As we’re not afraid of brightening and dimming / we behold the seasons of our lives…

In the holy rhythm of this life / in the holy rhythm of this life / in the holy rhythm of this life / Holy rhythm, hold me / holy rhythm…

All the time we take entering and leaving / welcoming the morning, honouring the night / we may know the grace of giving and receiving / shaping every season of our lives…

Repeat chorus.

Songwriting as Soul Work: Songs and the Inner Life available now!

“An inspiring book filled with short impactful stories about tapping in to creativity” - Arlene Bishop, performing songwriter

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I wrote this song back in December, which seems like a long time ago given the speed at which things change.

It arose in response to a significant health scare I had at the time. Everything turned out fine, but the experience got my attention.

We humans tend to seek control. We think we have it, or should have it, pretty much all the time. But life has other plans.

Serious diagnoses, sudden deaths, calamitous weather events, job losses, acts of violence, rejections, failed relationships, human errors, world-altering technologies, election of insane narcissists…the list goes on and on. Although we hate to admit it, much of life is completely beyond our control.

Our insistence that things go our way gets us into troubles large and small. Only intermittently can most of us drop the storyline of how things are “supposed” to go (The World According to Me) and simply be with the Is-ness of Everything.

Carl Jung said:

“To this day ‘God’ is the name by which I designate all things which cross my willful path violently and recklessly, all things which upset my subjective views, plans and intentions, and change the course of my life for better or for worse.”1

This isn’t the God of constant comfort, peace and beauty…but rather the God of Reality and Process, the What Is and the Happening.

As Rabbi Rami Shapiro writes:

“God is the Happening happening as all happening. Sometimes you like what is happening, so you call it ‘good.’ Sometimes you don’t like what is happening, so you call it ‘bad.’ Living with grace is being open to it all.”2

Here’s what happened last Tuesday. A dear friend died suddenly.

Over our 45 years of friendship, Warren and I talked a lot about life, how to make sense of it, and how we wanted it to go our way. (Okay, that was just me.)

One day. many years ago, after a long conversation in which I’m sure I was taking myself far too seriously, he turned to me matter-of-factly and said: “It all comes down to the Serenity Prayer.”

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

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Some things change everything / For the bird, it’s a broken wing / For the snow, it’s an early Spring / Some things change everything / They alter the way you fly / how you’ll be in the by-and-by / Just when you’ve found your swing / some things change everything.

Such things come to me and you / no matter what things we do / They come knocking at our door / with what we’re not asking for / Sometimes you can change a few / Most, you’re just living through / turning and tumbling / Some things change everything.

Life deals you a wild card / when you like things the way they are / You don’t like to be surprised / you wish things were otherwise / But some days you come to find / life has something else in mind / Some strange new bells’ll ring / Something changed everything (Chorus)

Some things knock you off your feet / land you on Misfortune Street / There’s no reason to explain / if you feel that you’re off your game / ‘Cause things that take you off guard / it’s easy to take them hard / Can’t somebody do something / about everything?

Our ancestors long ago / well, they’d say “we told you so” / But we never listen well / Some truth only time will tell / ‘Til one day it comes to pass / our sand through the hourglass / ‘Til then may we rise and sing / let love change everything…

Such things come to me and you / no matter where or who / They come knocking at our door / with what we’re not asking for / Sometimes you can change a few / Most, you’re just living through / turning and tumbling / Some things change everything / Turning and tumbling…

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Praise for my new book:

“Songwriting as Soul Work: Songs and the Inner Life had me appreciating my original songs in an entirely new way. Truly unique, it is both a handbook and a guidebook for composers at every stage of their songwriting journeys from the novice to the consummate pro. […] Frees the writer to learn from the process and grow as a person. A five-star read that one can turn to for inspiration again and again.”

- Sheila White, songwriter/composer and choral director

Write to me if you’d like a review copy!

This post was just about ready to go when the US-Iran war began.

I immediately wondered: would this song and message be relevant? Am I called to comment on current events, or to try, through creative effort, to tap into some peace or beauty that might offer a counterpoint?

I decided on the second option, and returned to the song I’d been working on before the war broke out.

“Everyone’s an Expert” was written in its original form almost twenty years ago, when I was volunteering as the songwriter-in-residence for a community radio program.1 At that time, I was noticing a new proliferation of independent content and was wondering—even then—how much of that content was actually needed, while realizing that I too was contributing to the deluge. Back then, social media was just beginning to transform our world. Now the lyrics “everybody’s got a book, they’ve got a new CD” seem downright quaint.

These days, as the world ricochets from crisis to crisis, I notice in myself a tendency to get hooked on content and commentary, likely because they provide some (false) sense of control. Meanwhile, I find myself diverted from the areas of life that call for my love and care.

Like all creative expression, songwriting can remind us to slow down and care for what’s in front of us…such as our primary relationships, our homes and communities, and our connection with the Creative Presence (by whatever name we call it).

When songs have lived with us a long time, they have the opportunity to mature along with us. In the case of “Everyone’s an Expert,” its lyrics have now changed to reflect the reality that at this later stage of life, I feel much less like an “expert” than I used to…especially when it comes to my marriage of almost 36 years! On my good days at least, I find myself showing up with curiosity and an open mind. (The original lyric “all I know is you” has changed to “all I need is you.”)

“Everyone’s An Expert” has traveled with me a long time, though it’s seldom been shared with others and wasn’t formally recorded. I’m grateful to see today how it can grow and change as I do, revealing more layers of meaning than I could see before.2 Spending time with the song (or any creative work) helps me to stay present amidst all the commotion of life, returning to love again and again.

My own new book “Songwriting as Soul Work” is now making its way into the world, and can be ordered through many online retailers and local bookstores. If you’d like to receive a complimentary e-book for review purposes, or chat with me about it, let me know!

Everyone’s an expert / everywhere you go / smart as any textbook / talking ‘bout the things they know / Everybody’s interesting / *They’ve got their point-of-view* / Everyone’s an expert / all I need is you.

Everybody’s got a book / They’ve got a new cd / and everybody wants the *hook* that / gets them on tv / and everyone’s extraordinary3 / Look at the cards they drew / Everyone’s an expert / all I need is you.

I am still a student here / reading you, year after year / I look at you, I take you in / I look away, turn back again / And it won’t earn me any prize / won’t put me in the public’s eyes / but loving you through thick and thin / *I’d like to be* an expert in…

Everyone’s got answers / solutions they have found / But we’re just two *hungry*4 dancers / on this patch of shaky ground5 / and in these times so uncertain / I wish we had a clue / Everyone’s an expert / all I need is you.

All I hope to understand / is written in your open hand / The answers I am looking for / are in your heart for evermore / and if we learn the meaning of / this mystery that we call love / then love will bring us to our knees / We’ll always need more expertise…

Everyone’s an expert / everywhere you go / smart as any textbook / talking ‘bout the things they know / *But love is all that matters now* / *Only love will do* / Everyone’s an expert / all I need is you / Everyone’s an expert / all I need is you.

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(Photo from the Walk for Peace Global Supporters Facebook page, Feb. 6, 2026.)

I started writing this post on Day 104 of the Buddhist Monks’ Walk for Peace which started in Fort Worth, Texas on October 26th, 2025 and is now in its final phase. The monks celebrated their arrival in Washington D.C. on February 11th (Day 108) with ceremonies, meditation and an interfaith service.

Accompanied by their dog, Aloka, a group of 19 monks from the Theravada Buddhist tradition walked about 2,300 miles (3,700 kilometres) in 108 days to promote peace, compassion, mindfulness and nonviolence. Along the way they attracted millions of followers on social media—including so many of us.

As their journey is coming to a close, many people are writing to say how much they’ll miss them. Amidst the daily litany of sorrow in our social media feeds, their shining message of hope and peace has been a welcome infusion of positive energy.

Of course, their purpose was not only to attract millions of followers on Facebook and Instagram. It was to convey, to as many people as possible, simple tools we can use to bring more peace into our own lives.

Each day via Facebook, they invited us to join them in spirit, with words such as “Have a peaceful day! May we be mindful in everything we do throughout the day. We invite you to walk with us in spirit. May you and all beings be well, happy and at peace.”

Like all activities, songwriting and performance can be approached with mindfulness, attending to the task step by step, with as much care as possible, and then, when the song is complete, offering it in a spirit of kindness and non-attachment.

I sometimes find it challenging to stay connected to the present note, word and intention…noticing when I become distracted by anxious thoughts and trying (always imperfectly) to return to the task at hand with a clear mind and with patience.

I wrote this song to reinforce my commitment to contemplative practice, grateful for the monks’ example (and the influence of many wise teachers). It joins a growing group of songs inspired by the Walk for Peace.

I have followed the Peace Walkers / As they’ve travelled ‘cross the plains / over bridges, fields and borders / in these days of ICE and rain / As I watch them moving mindful / in their brilliant orange robes / loving-kindness sure and simple / shines more brightly than the snow.

I was scrolling through the shadows / of a dark’ning winter night / when I stumbled on the walkers / in their line of radiant light / I clicked “follow” the Peace Walkers / their beloved dog as well / joining seekers and sleepwalkers / listening for a distant bell.

I’ve been fearful of the future / and regretful of the past / Now I’m grateful for the teachers / who so bravely bring me back / to the refuge of the moment / to the rhythm of the breath / In the present now unfolding / may we know we’re truly blessed.

We have followed the Peace Walkers / from Fort Worth up to D.C. / but their journey carries onward / as it lives in you and me. / There will be no need to wander / when I’m with them in my way / so I rise again to whisper / “This will be my peaceful day.”

My new book, Songwriting as Soul Work: Songs and the Inner Life is now available through many online retailers including FriesenPress, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Indigo and more, as well as many independent bookstores.

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On this very cold winter day, I find hope in the plucky little succulents that are thriving in my room, despite less-than-optimal conditions.

Like all plants, they’re nourished by what’s in the ground, the dark and messy stuff. For me these days, the real stuff includes anger, fear, sadness and grief. My own particular mulch can also include feelings of powerlessness and not-enough-ness. These depressive and self-critical thoughts may be related, I believe, to unexpressed or misdirected anger. Given how much anger arising these days, it’s good to make sure it’s going in the right direction!

In his excellent Substack today, Parker J. Palmer writes about the challenge of being an angry Quaker. His essay helped inspire today’s song (a short and spontaneous one).

He writes:

Anger can serve as a source of energy for the work we need to do, and a source of stamina to help us carry on in hard times.

For me, songwriting and creative expression are helpful ways of working with big emotions like anger. They provide an opportunity to be honest about what’s going on in me (to the extent I can) and renew my energy to do the particular good I’m called to do, in community with others. This is a central point of my brand new book: Songwriting as Soul Work: Songs and the Inner Life…which (I’m very excited to announce) is available now (as of today!).

This week, our1 Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney delivered an important speech at Davos about honesty and the strength of “middle powers,” especially when banded together, against the inhumane insanity now threatening the world.

He was speaking about geopolitics…but on the personal level, we too can “name reality…build our strength at home…[and] act together.”

Naming what we’re feeling (whether it be anger, grief, powerlessness…) building our strength at home (nourishing our bodies, minds and spirits) and acting together (joining with others for systemic change)…all of these keep me growing in good directions, one day at a time. Thanks for being here.

What’ll we do with the anger / Where’ll we put all the pain / As we witness a world in danger / The human being insane / What do we do with the fury / What do we do with the shock / Got to rewrite the story / Make most of what we’ve got

Banding, banding all together / Standing up for what is true / Rising up from every corner / Doing the good we can do…

Whatever you do with your anger / Don’t ever turn it within / Attend to the heart of the matter / Love will finally win / Put in your piece of the puzzle / Know that you are enough / Take a breath and another / Keep on showing up… (Chorus)

Songwriting & performance notes:

The metaphor of a puzzle has emerged as an important one for me…gesturing perhaps toward a Wholeness or Holy Mystery (that I can’t see in its entirety). And this week I finally finished a difficult 1000-piece puzzle, so there’s that!

My low “e” is tuned up to F#. The capo is on the third fret.

On the wall behind me is a framed copy of The Desiderata which includes the words “whatever your labours and aspirations in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace with your soul.”

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On Wednesday, I found myself writing a contemplative song (a hymn really, or a lullaby) as I renew my intention to sit still more in this New Year, to find time each day for meditation, prayer, or creative contemplation in some way.

Then came the news from Minneapolis. My heart is aching for Renee Nicole Good, for her children, for her mother who told the media what a loving and kind person her daughter was…for everyone who knew and loved her and all the poetry she will no longer write. My mind still can’t take in the level of hatred and contempt for her—and for all loving people—by those who hold power. It seems too much to take in.

Somehow music, though, seems big enough to hold it all…along with poetry, the beauty of a landscape, colour and light, gentle touch, a smile. Paradoxically, the small simplicity of the breath itself, or a simple melody, can open up enough space to hold the unfathomable. This new space can allow strength and courage to enter.

As ministers go, I’m not the most skilled at quoting Biblical scripture, but I’ve always loved Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.” As I’ve grown up, I’ve let go of images of God as an all-powerful humanlike being, and come to rest in a sense of an encompassing Presence: something that holds everything, all we wish for and all we don’t, but which somehow has love at its centre. I see This as connected also to what Jung called the transpersonal Self, accessed through dreams, intuition, and creative expression…and I sometimes call it Love for short. I get closer to it, if only briefly, in meditation and prayer, which are continually taking new shapes in my life (including the shape of songs).

I pray that, somehow, Love can work in the world as a healing presence: transforming those addicted to violence and rage, and sustaining those of us who stand in sorrowful witness.

Be still, be still / Be still and know that love is with you / Be still, be still / Let a far deeper peace come to you / Be still, be still / when all the world is whirling ‘round you / be still and know / love still is near..

Be still, be still / Be still and know the healing presence / be still, breathe still / let go of all your heavy burdens / Be still, be still / quieting all unanswered questions / Be still and know / love still is near. Be still and know love still is near.

Songwriting Notes: One thing I absolutely love about creative work (and that affirms my emerging understanding of God as a transpersonal creative force) is that often (or usually) the “best” things come unbidden by my conscious mind. They bubble up spontaneously, like dreams do, and bring with them as sense of surprise and delight.

In “Be Still” this was true of the word “whirling.” In the book of Job, God answered him “out of the whirlwind” Job 38:1 and 40:6. As well, the final line of both stanzas came as a complete surprise, offering a different meaning of song’s key word. The (perhaps) surprising chord at about Bar 15 arose spontaneously, too. (It’s worth noting, too, that “be still and know that I am God” has been the starting-point for lots and lots of songs out there!)

I hope that “Be Still” offers some peace to you, along with an encouragement to continue your own spiritual practice, in whatever form it takes, in this New Year and newly challenging times.

Thank you and welcome to everyone returning to Chapel of Song or those who are arriving for the first time. I’m honoured and grateful that you are here.

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(Above: my sketch this morning.)

Not long ago, I received an email from a young person who had written a song using AI. He was hoping I’d set the lyrics to music, record and share the song. I declined, but took the request as a compliment. I also encouraged him to try writing a song without using artificial intelligence, because it’s a lot more fun.

Much has been written about the threat AI now poses to creative expression, employment and the environment. Above all (and related to all of these) I grieve the potential loss of our ability to think for ourselves…to puzzle things out…to sit with the questions and arrive at our own insights.

As Rilke wrote in response to a young poet who was hungry for success (and who might have used AI if it were available at the time):

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. […] Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

In his Substack titled “Living the Questions,” Parker J. Palmer recently featured the poem “Now I Become Myself” by May Sarton and reflected on the challenge of showing up as our true selves…something that human-scale creativity helps us to do, or so it seems to me.

Also, synchronistically as I was working on this song yesterday, Dr. Polly Young-Eisendrath posted her excellent essay “Don’t Hand Over Your Decision-Making to AI.” affirming the value of human intention and the urgent need to apply it now in light of AI’s rapid encroachment.

A few notes about the song and video. It surprised me at many turns (songs are always ahead of me!) but especially in the way it affirms the role of loving relationship in the individual quest for meaning.

The experimental video framing was a surprise too, as it included two original paintings, one done by my husband and me many years ago by splashing acrylic paint around on a canvas in the basement, and the other created by my mother a few years before I was born (an abstract of a couple in loving embrace).

Wishing you much love, joy and meaning in the Real that is all around us. Thanks for reading and listening!

Here I go again / thinking for myself / Trying to let in / some truth that I can tell / Yes, here I go again / thinking for myself

Here I am again / meeting with my muse / my fine forever friend / whose hand I can’t refuse / She is coming to me when / I think for myself

Don’t take it away / my right to get it wrong / There’s no easy way to write a human song / Don’t take it away / the answer hard to find / Don’t let me lose my heart to an artificial mind…

I’ll offer—if I may—this educated guess / The beauty that will stay is Love and nothing less / and it’s what I need today / speaking for myself

And so I shall return / for better and for worse / to seek a certain word that suits the Universe / There is much I need to learn / and I need your help

Don’t take it away / my right to get it wrong / There’s no easy way to write the human song / Don’t take it away / the answer hard to find / Don’t let me lose my heart to an artificial mind…

Here I am for now / for my mental health / trying to show you how / I’m truly doing well / yes I’m coming round again / thinking for myself

And I hope it never ends / thinking for myself…

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It’s the week after Hallowe’en. On our street, the scary inflatables are deflated, alongside carcasses of jack-o-lanterns awaiting garbage pickups or hungry squirrels.

Despite the rays of hope that are shining now, it’s a shadowy time.

So here’s a musical reflection on devil and shadow. About ten years ago, I first heard the idea that Donald Trump embodies the unconscious “shadow” we all carry: those parts of ourselves we’d rather not see, such as greed, cruelty, selfishness, dishonesty and so on. As Marianne Williamson wrote in a recent Substack post, “he is our own shadow reflected on the screen of our lives, and like any image thus projected it cannot be removed by manipulating the screen.” Last week, This Jungian Life cast light on evil, shadow and all that devilish business.

In supposedly ethical and just societies, like the U.S. and Canada, the undercurrent of injustice is always present. Without calling it out clearly—by denying it’s there—we allow it to flourish. Here in Canada, a disturbing rise of extremist hate is likely to be surprising to many. “What, here? Impossible!” Not so, says Charlie Angus in this illuminating article from Nov. 3rd.

Despite the seriousness of the subject, I had fun writing this song and recording it too...playing with light and shadow myself! Many thanks, as always, for reading and listening.

Lynn

The devil that was always there / at least we can see it now / the source of cruelty and despair / at least we can see it now // Can’t miss it now, it’s obvious / It always was a part of us / You can’t shake the shadow anyhow / At least you can see it now.

The worship of some golden thing / It’s not just a story of old1 / Its dazzling deception brings / Sickness of the soul // Whatever it was they called ‘sin’2 / it’s made the awful mess we’re in / You can’t shake the shadow anyhow / at least you can see it now.

Can’t shrug it off / can’t shut it down / just watch it overrun / everybody in this town / Now that it’s out / from underground / is it any wonder that it’s pushing us around?

The evil we said we don’t know / maybe we can own it now / The sham behind the great big show / bears all of our names somehow // Divides us into us and them / conceals the divine light within / You can’t shake the shadow anyhow / at least you can see it now.

Can’t shrug it off / can’t shut it down / just watch it overrun / everybody in this town / Now that it’s out / from underground / is it any wonder that it’s pushing us around?

“What darkness lurks in the hearts of men?”3 / You’d think we would know by now / Think we’re in charge? Well, think again! / It’s got us all bowing down // But if we shed a light on it / We might wake up a little bit / You can’t shake the shadow anyhow / At least you can see it now

We can’t shake the shadow anyhow / At least we can see it now…

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Maybe it’s appropriate that it’s taken awhile to get this song out to you. It was written and recorded this summer, around the time of a joyful anniversary for my husband and me. Since then, my pace has been on the slow side…and that’s a good thing.

I’d been noticing the word “evolution” being used a lot. (I used “evolve” myself in another recent song.) It’s as if we’re longing for a profound change in the way human beings operate…perhaps in order to survive as a species.

In an inspiring commencement address still shared widely on social media, Gov. J.B. Pritzker noted that “empathy and compassion are evolved states of being.” This rings true; in our world, it’s so easy to divide into us and them and get caught up in judgments. It takes time and mindful practice to “cultivate boundless love to offer to all living beings in the entire cosmos…free from hatred and enmity,” as advised in this beautiful Discourse on Love from Buddhism’s Metta Sutta, translated by Thich Nhat Hanh.

Will we ever be able to do it? Fortunately, as Richard Rohr writes: “What has been an ancient spiritual truth is now increasingly verified by science. We are all indivisibly part of one another.” In the same passage on awe, wonder and love, Rohr quotes Sikh wisdom teacher Valarie Kaur, who reminds us that “You are a part of me I do not yet know.” (See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love.)

The word “revolution” comes up in today’s song, too. Of course, I’m using the words creatively and very loosely. Someone who knows a lot about actual scientific evolution is Mark Vellend, whose new book Everything Evolves is generating lots of praise and is on my to-read list. (Mark is the son of a good friend.) My hope is that along with so many other aspects of life, our ability to care for one another can rise to a whole new level.

Thanks so much for reading and listening, and a very warm welcome to all new followers and subscribers!

Love and blessings,

Lynn

You’d think that by now, I’d learn my lesson / There’s more to life than my own point-of-view / After all this time, you keep me guessing / and even now, new light comes breaking through.

Chorus: Maybe we are just slow learners / Falling down and trying to rise above / maybe we are just slow learners / taking our sweet time to learn to love.

One thing you can say ‘bout evolution / It takes more than a few trips ‘round the sun / We only need one kind of revolution / We only need to learn we’re truly one. (Chorus)

And all the time we spend on getting somewhere / seems to bring us right back to the start / It might not take us quite so long to get there / If we finally learn this song by heart… (Chorus)

Taking our sweet time to learn to love… to love.

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For many of us, this particular fall season may be a harder one than usual. The arrival of September often feels bittersweet, but in the face of so much catastrophe in the world, the darkening skies and end of carefree summer days can feel particularly poignant. (Anne Lamott writes beautifully about this year’s American fall season in this Los Angeles Times essay.)

What so many of us are feeling, of course, is grief. And not just for one thing, either. Depending on our age and situations, we may be mourning careers, homes, friends, family members and/or physical health, in addition to the loss of a world we thought we knew, with ethical leaders and the reasonable expectation of a stable and sustainable planet. It’s a lot! We need to find whatever nourishment we can and fully breathe it in, preserving it in our hearts for what may be a hard winter ahead.

Fortunately, there IS so much nourishment to be found, even now. So much beauty and meaning in the actual physical Realness of autumn…(not to mention how well it might work as a metaphor). This is still a time for singing, for joy, for warmth, for connection, for gratitude…for, well, tomatoes. Even if they’re still green, as some of mine may well be, by the time of the first frost.

The raccoons got another ripe tomato overnight / despite the sprinkler system / we thought we’d set up right / and the squirrels are circling ‘round that fat green pepper by the fence / We’ll take it in by evening if we have a bit of sense…

Late summer harvest / How’d we get here so fast? / We finally stop to notice / and we find the moment’s passed / Late summer harvest / This golden afternoon / smiling down upon the ways we still bloom

No need to be discouraged / There’s still so much that’s good / despite what didn’t flourish / in the ways we thought they should / There is kale to feed the neighbours / and still more for you and me / There’s mint and thyme and basil / and it’s time we made some tea… (Chorus)

Some say the growing season is short, but that’s not true / For roots endure and deepen long after summer’s through / In the earth alive and moving there is nothing to be missed / In the fullness of the season may we need no more than this (Chorus)

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Even so, the collapse of those talks is one of many recent events adding to a general feeling of anxiety (if not outright despair), as Planet Earth is heating up at an alarming rate while governments push pro-petroleum agendas and scrap environmental protections in favour of economic growth.

In my own backyard this summer, the cicadas have been particularly loud, perhaps because we’ve had so many hot days. From one year to the next we notice changes in the climate; we don’t need the studies to tell us. In casual conversations, people share their grief and anxiety over climate change. We check apps on our phones to see how bad the air quality is due to wildfire smoke. Worry can overtake us in the middle of the night, especially in a hot attic bedroom.

As we live with increasing existential anxiety, we continue to have a voice of wisdom, hope and clarity in Joanna Macy (May 2, 1929 - July 19, 2025) and her enduring legacy, the Work That Reconnects.

I’ve recently returned to her two books Active Hope (written with Chris Johnstone and updated with the new subtitle How to Face the Mess We’re in with Unexpected Creative Power) as well as its follow up, Coming Back to Life (with Molly Young Brown). I also invite you to be nourished by her many wisdom talks which are easily found online now, especially as so many people are remembering her with love and deep respect.

Here’s a short excerpt from Joanna Macy’s poem “Trusting the Spiral” which opens Active Hope.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published

Active Hope is waking up to the beauty of life
on whose behalf we can act.
We belong to this world.
The web of life is calling us forth at this time.
We've come a long way and are here to play our part.

For many of us, creative work can help us mindfully connect with the world in this moment, opening our hearts in a way that strengthens us to join with others and take what action we can in this time. Often through music and art, we can name our grief and our love in a way that helps us hold the Wholeness…even when it’s hard.

This song was written several years ago, but seems even more true now that time has passed. Today’s version includes guest vocals from the cicadas!

I don’t have time to take it nice and slow / I’m in a hurry, I’ll get that to go / rushing home and feeling so jet-lagged / put my planet in a plastic bag / I’ve got some things I’ve got to get wrapped up / A handle on important stuff / Take a look at this fantastic swag, I got a / Planet in a plastic bag / planet in a plastic bag…

Holding on through thick and thin / Giving it a certain spin / Bettin’ that we’re gonna win / But hold on tight / We’re climbing in…

I’ve got a strategy that’s so air-tight / I know the secret of my heart’s delight / I keep on moving in a cool zig-zag / Keep my planet in a plastic bag / I did not want it in a paper sack / I went forward, I did not look back / I lit up and took a nice long drag on my / Planet in a plastic bag / planet in a plastic bag… (Chorus)

It was handed down to us, my dear / Like a present given free and clear / and we were fine until we hit that snag / put our planet in a plastic bag / And if you carry it away with me / we’ll display it so the stars can see / We will fly it like a big white flag…/Planet in a plastic bag / Planet in a plastic bag… (Chorus)

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(Welcome to all new followers and subscribers. I’m so glad you’re here!)

From a distance up here in Canada,1 I’ve been cheering for Geoff Duncan, the former Lieutenant Governor of Georgia who recently left the Republican Party to become a Democrat. He was led to make that change by the essential religious teaching to love thy neighbour.

He’s not alone. Many Americans who voted for the current president are now disavowing MAGA with its overt cruelty, racism, and contempt for human rights. Also, many people have changed their views on Israel’s actions in Gaza and the West Bank, as the world witnesses the horrific massacre and starvation of the Palestinian people in stark contrast to Judaism’s essential teachings of love and mercy.

It can feel risky to change course, especially when it means breaking away from a group. We live in a culture of fixed attitudes, right/wrong judgments and binary dualisms. Political and social positions seem baked in (here in Canada too) and often for generations. Leaders who change their minds are mocked as weak flip-floppers while rigid "strongmen" draw hard lines that lead to mass violence and oppression.

In addition to engaging in necessary social activism, we can practice peace at home by keeping an open mind in personal relationships, seeking to understand “the other” rather than trying to prove ourselves right. When we’re wrong, we can admit it. We can return to love, over and over.

And then there’s changing my own personal mindset: perhaps the most important and difficult task of all! Moving from perfectionism to acceptance, grief to gratitude, powerlessness to purpose…it sometimes seems I have to re-set my attitude a hundred times a day, but it’s worth it.

As we engage in any kind of creative activity, we're invited to experiment, try new views on for size, discard ideas that no longer serve. It’s not easy (she said, while still trying to decide on the final lyric for this song!). But moment by moment and breath by breath, we can return to Love, to G-d, to The Real.

Through the Creative Process, which arises for each of us in our own unique ways, may we gain the flexibility and resilience we need to heal this fractured world.

It’s Okay to Change Your Mind - Lynn Harrison - Aug. 13, 2025

V. 1 - Yes, you can change that point of view / That new outlook looks good on you / Each brand new day comes undefined / and it’s okay to change your mind.

V. 2 - We all evolve, we must revise / We rise and fall, we get surprised / By what seemed right but now is wrong /.That’s just how life grows us along.

Chorus - We think again, we start anew / We contain multitudes2/ Find your way and you will find / It’s okay to change your mind.

V. 3 - It’s not a flip, flop or fail / to right your ship, adjust your sail / That’s just the way this heart’s designed / We all were made to change our mind /

(Chorus)

Bridge - Now when I look up to those stars / They all add up to question marks / But when I turn back to those signs / I know they’ll help me change my mind…

V. 4 - Tomorrow is another day / This could be put another way / All things will change the way they do / Still love remains and sees us through

(Chorus)

Now he claims he didn’t draw. But the president was happy to take credit for the black marker sketches of tall buildings (and a bridge and a tree) when they sold at auction, as reported in the New York Times. (Here are his alleged drawings. That’s mine, above.) His simple cartoons are actually charming (especially if you don’t know who drew them). What if he’d secretly harboured a wish to engage his naturally creative soul? If he’d done that, would he have treated the world with even a smidgen more kindness, more gratitude, more (dare I say it) love?

As Frederick Franck wrote:

Drawing is the discipline by which I constantly rediscover the world. I have learned that what I have not drawn, I have never really seen, and that when I start drawing an ordinary thing, I realize how extraordinary it is, sheer miracle.”

Despite all the depressing catastrophes of our times (so many of them caused by the non-sketcher and sexual abuser in question), we’re fortunate to have many teachers around us who encourage us to draw pictures, play music, tell jokes (long live Stephen Colbert!), build sand castles, tend gardens, and otherwise honour the Sheer Miracle Of Existence through art in every form.

When it comes to drawing, the amazing Wendy MacNaughton is changing the world with her inspiring Draw Together projects, Ann Telnaes continues to create brave and brilliant political cartoons, and I could always go on and on and on about Roz Chast.

Anyway, here’s today’s little musical sketch. And now I’m going outside to draw.

Notes: Adolf Hitler was rejected from art school twice, in 1907 and 1908. I don’t know about Putin, but it felt right to put him in too, and I would have added Netanyahu if I could.

That said, after writing this, I realized I wouldn’t have wanted him to go to art school WITH ME, so maybe that scuttles the whole idea!!

With gratitude to all the wonderful art teachers (professional and otherwise) I’ve had throughout my lifetime, especially my mother.

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Over the past few months, I’ve benefited from so many thoughtful essays, here on Substack and elsewhere—many of them very long. Yet I’ve also relied on a few very short wisdom texts, some quite ancient. Years ago, my late father encouraged me to put historical poems and quotations to music—but that didn’t hold much appeal to me as a highly individualistic young person. That’s changing now. Here are a few short songs based on texts I didn’t write, but that I rely on. Like trees, I find they provide shelter and strength. I hope you find them useful.

1. Do What You Can

This simple song is based on the wise words of Nkose Johnson, the 12 year-old South African child who died of HIV/AIDS on June 1, 2001. (As a result of DOGE funding cuts this year in the U.S. an additional 6 million people are estimated to become infected with AIDS by 2029.) I’m grateful to Dr. Rick Hanson for sharing Johnson’s wisdom in a phrasing that led easily to a song. “Do what you can, with what you’ve been given, where you are, in the time that you have.” I’ve added a couple of verses to that chorus…and it spontaneously evolved in a meaningful way.

2. Do Not Be Daunted

Based on several texts from Pirke Avot (Jewish Sages) with contemporary paraphrasing (Rabbi Rami Shapiro), this often-shared wisdom is familiar to many people now, including those who, like me, were not raised in the Jewish tradition. “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly now, love mercy now, walk humbly now. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.” In a meaningful synchronicity, the quotation popped up in my Facebook yet again (thanks to subscriber Donald!) just before I sat down to work on this post.

3. Acceptance, Courage & Wisdom (The Serenity Prayer)

I was first introduced to 12 Step wisdom and The Serenity Prayer (written by Reinhold Niebuhr) in my early teens, and I find it very helpful these days. “God grant me the serenity to accept what I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” I’ll be honest: I wrestled with this particular angel a long time before embracing it and deciding to share this version (of many possible ones) with you. It draws on the original text but adds to it, emphasizing the seeking of serenity in times of struggle and tension. As Anne Lamott said, there are three kinds of prayers: help, thanks, and wow. This one is about “help.” (And as usual, after it was finally finished, it led naturally to “thanks!”)

Whew…that’s a lot! This turned out to be a long post after all. The next one will be shorter, promise. Many thanks for reading and listening.

With love, gratitude and best wishes…

Lynn

Additional notes: Recently I’ve noticed several artists (particularly poets) creating new work “after” others…and I wonder whether we’re (finally!) beginning to figure out that we are all continually nourished and inspired by everything and everybody else? Nothing is ever “ours” alone.

The cover art is an original watercolour of three birch trees that are no longer with us, thanks to the creative work of enterprising beavers! I was briefly tempted to use AI to create a “three trees” image (it can do it speedily and spiffily of course) but I still prefer the human.

Photo by Alex Block on Unsplash

This song arose during a rainy day last week, when my favourite umbrella suddenly gave up the ghost. To my surprise, the walk home turned out to be better than expected.

These days, I'm appreciating all wisdom that reminds me to be fully in the moment, to not cling so tightly to comforts and expectations, and to be aware of what Jungian author James Hollis calls "treatment plans"1…the various ways we try to manage existential anxiety, which can include accumulating more stuff to make life more convenient and also keeping ourselves busy and distracted. (Could writing more songs fall into this pattern? Well, yes.)

Also, I've been thoroughly enjoying a profoundly beautiful new book from Thomas Moore called "The Eloquence of Silence: Surprising Wisdom in Tales of Emptiness”2 What if the absence of something, or the "failure" of some mechanism, opened up something new? Where might that lead?

As always, this song is a work-in-progress, with a few lyrics still bouncing around. It seems, to me, to offer a few different interpretations (I welcome yours) and perhaps a few unanswered questions.

Sending you good wishes amidst the storms of these days. (My next song, if it gets finished, will be titled simply “Greed.”)

Love, Lynn

My umbrella broke when I was walking in the rain / I knew I would be soaked when I got back home again / ‘cause my umbrella broke, it was the automatic kind / that lots of rained-on folks / use to keep rain off our mind.

Where are you in the storm these days? / How’re you going to make your way? / How are you in the storm, my love? / How are you holding up?

My umbrella broke, like some flimsy metaphor / that wasn’t so bespoke, though it served me well before / until it couldn’t hold, for something faulty in the spring / that meant it could no longer shelter anything.

(Chorus)

My umbrella broke, so I threw it in the trash / As everybody knows, nothing ever lasts / But then I felt the rain and the wind upon my skin / and something deep inside me sprang to life again…

(Chorus)

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(I was finishing this post when the news of Donald Trump’s bombing of Iran came through. Like others trying in our own ways to respond creatively to current events, I’m finding it hard to keep up. Several times now, a song I’d planned to offer seemed irrelevant or unhelpful by the time I’d written and recorded it, creating an interesting archival file! But today’s post still feels relevant. Also, after struggling to find a good cover picture to go at the top, I looked at my fridge this morning and saw this very old magnet…from Amnesty International I’m pretty sure. It was the sign I needed to send this song to you today.)

Right now, there are so many issues of concern happening all at once, it’s hard to choose one subject to write about.

Meanwhile, one overarching theme keeps coming up as I speak to friends and watch the news. Not just “how could this happen?” but “how could this happen…again?!”

Enter “Not Again”…a song I wrote several years ago but hadn’t released. Returning to this song today, I saw the simple lyric improvements that had eluded me until now. Like all growing things (including each of us) songs blossom in their own way and in their own time.

“Not Again” is a protest song on several topical issues that are sadly perennial and currently intense: war (in Gaza, Ukraine, now Iran…and other regions as well); gun violence (the killing of American lawmaker Melissa Hortman and her husband); climate catastrophe caused by fossil fuels (as a lethal heat wave takes place now, and new pipelines are being fast-tracked)…and history repeats itself in the form of authoritarian leaders and genocidal violence.

Although all of this sounds bleak, I find a small measure of hope in protest songs, which are making a comeback these days. (See Jesse Welles especially. ) Through music, especially in community, we’re connected to Life and Spirit in ways that can comfort, sustain and energize us.

Thanks so much for reading and listening…and maybe even singing along! Take good care of yourselves and each other.

(p.s. I thought I might try posting to Instagram too this time, hence the different video format. But Insta remains a mystery to me!)

Not again, like before / counting casualties of war / Here we go, another round / how well we know that siren sound…

I wonder how, I wonder when / we’ll all come together saying “Not again!” / What a day it will be when / we all come together saying / “Not again!”

Not again, he had a gun / just like all the other ones / Here we go, one more time / making sense of senseless crime… (chorus)

Not again, a dirty spill / You’d think we would have had our fill / but here we are, as we were / on the beach with blackened birds… (chorus)

Not again, who could tell / history would repeat itself / it’s gonna feel like deja vu / til we live and love anew… (chorus and repeat)

* revised lyrics in bold

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As I read so many commentaries on current events now, I sometimes feel overwhelmed and inadequate to answer the many urgent calls of the world. What should I do next? Am I doing enough? How is (this or that person) managing to function?

I find myself frequently reaching for the Serenity Prayer (which I’m sure you know, but always bears repeating) “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference” as well as slogans from the 12 Step programs such as “Easy Does It,” “First Things First,” and especially (for me) “Progress, Not Perfection.” New wisdom along these lines is always springing up, such as Nkosi Johnson’s “Do what you can / with what you’ve been given / where you are / in the time that you have” (shared by Dr. Rick Hanson and to which I’ve made up a little tune…and you could, too!).

For me, over the years but especially now, nothing has been more effective at “right-sizing” an overwhelming world as creative activity. For me, that’s mostly songwriting but also includes painting and drawing and almost any form of writing. (Maybe this explains why so many people are sharing so much on so many platforms all of the sudden.) Oh, and taking pictures of beautiful flowers! But how you find creative renewal is completely up to you. As Kurt Vonnegut once said:

“. . . Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what's inside you, to make your soul grow.”

He also said (elsewhere I think) “the arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable.”

Yes. Creative activity teaches us to live fully in the moment, to stay focused on the next right thing (activism included), to praise beauty and uphold Reality, to search our hearts for what is truthful and then (perhaps) to share it with others in service. It can connect us to the Something More (call it God, True Self, Love, the Universe…) that is eternally transforming everything and bringing new life into being no matter what.

Also, when we’re not “creating” it (because I don’t think it’s actually “us” that does), simply enjoying the beauty we enjoy is a radical (radical = root) act of resistance: resistance to hopelessness, to nihilism, to today’s death-dealing deniers of real love and real suffering. (You know who they are.)

With that, here’s an end-of-day song, with gratitude to all of you for listening and responding to the world in your own creative and compassionate ways (with a special and very warm hello to new followers and subscribers)!

Much love,

Lynn

P.S. Listen for the robins making a surprise star appearance at the end of the song!

Singing This World Down to Size

This world's an overwhelming place,
moving at this reckless pace
When it gets too much for me
I need a gentle remedy

When I've done what good I can
With this one heart, with these two hands
You'll find me playing lullabies
Singing this world down to size

From space the Earth's a tiny gem
with no such thing as us and them
But down here as we're living large
we darken even the shining stars

(Chorus)

I pray someday we'll set things right
For we are not larger than life
When all this smoke clears from our eyes
we'll love this world right back to size.

(Chorus)

Notes on inspiration for a few lyrics:

“We are not larger than life” and humility in general - See Parker J. Palmer’s Substack post “Delusions of Grandeur are Doing Us In” from May 16th.

“From space the Earth’s a tiny gem, there’s no such thing as us and them” - inspired by this widely-shared Facebook post in which astronaut Ron Garan described the “overview effect” of seeing the Earth in proper scale.

“When all this smoke clears from our eyes” - As of this writing, more than 200 wildfires are currently burning in Canada. This fact alone calls into question our continuing investment in fossil fuel infrastructure as well as our increasing use of Internet-based forms of communication, which in themselves (including what I’m doing here) are contributing to the climate crisis. With that in mind, I’ve taken the teeny step today of linking the video to YouTube instead of uploading it, which I hope works just as well. Thanks so much again for watching and listening!

In these days of disinformation and propaganda, “alternative facts” and artificial intelligence, it’s essential to separate fact from fiction…to discern what is “the truth and nothing but the truth.”

Meanwhile, there’s a Realness of life that bubbles up everywhere. People are speaking truth to power in new places, from Substack to sidewalks (above, near my home). Countless wisdom teachers, artists and journalists can now be found on alternative platforms like this one, often after being censored or suppressed in mainstream channels. People are speaking up…and in courageous and creative ways.

It’s been said that “every viewpoint is a view from a point” (Richard Rohr) and diversity of opinion is an essential part of life’s wholeness. Yet in the face of so much suffering and disinformation, actual facts about interrelated realities such as climate change and migration must be shouted from the rooftops. Here in Canada, steps are being taken to combat misinformation online, and in the United States, thousands of people are standing up to protect universities and the historical record—especially regarding racism and oppression in all its forms.

“Truth Be Told” arrived as an interesting hybrid between outright protest song and inspirational anthem. There are a few “mistakes” or irregularities in the performance (with lyrics corrected in the subtitles, and in lyrics below). These, too, are a testament to the Realness of life…the enough-ness of each of us, as we are.

I continue to be grateful for the courageous voices of activists, journalists and fellow humans who speak to the facts on the ground. As well, I am grateful for the beauty, comfort and peace that can arise in every moment…even as we bear witness, as best we can, to the pain of the world.

Welcome and News!

A very warm welcome to new followers and subscribers! Thank you for joining us and I’m so happy you’ve discovered Chapel of Song. This morning, I realized that back in January, the very first word in this new series of songs was “truth”…in “Who’s Gonna Hold This World” which started the ball rolling. Thanks to you—and thanks to the fact that there’s no shortage of things to write about—the songs keep on coming.

Also, an invitation! You’re welcome to sing these songs yourselves (and if you need the chords, just let me know). Thank you to Cali J in Idaho for singing “Who’s Gonna Hold This World” in her recent concert! Also, I’ve had requests for SATB arrangements for some of these songs, so if you’re inspired to create one for your choir or group, that would be most welcome! Finally, I’m pleased to share that “Hold Fast To Love” will be included in “Sing Out Love” the brand new Unitarian Universalist hymnbook coming very soon. Again, thank you all for listening and being here.

May we all keep telling the truth and holding up our little corners of the world.

Much love,

Lynn

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Truth Be Told

The way that the world is warming / The cause of the rising flood / The wave of resistance forming / as the people are rising up // The agony of the poorest / The apathy born of wealth / The powerful voice of courage / we can find deep within ourself…

Truth be told, truth be told / Truth be told, truth be told (rpt)

The truth that is hidden from us / The true meaning of the word / The steady resounding chorus / of the voices that go unheard // The witness that won’t be silent / The knowledge that’s undenied / The still unrelenting violence / of the unfolding genocide…(chorus)

The peace of the present moment / The Love that can conquer hate / The truth that will still be spoken / and the music that will be made // The Mystery ever-changing / the More than we’ll ever know / The difference we can be making / in the short time before we go… (chorus)