the truth is, it's a mixed bag 🌎
rainbow sequin jumpsuits, flower essences and the vagaries of life as an artist...
hello my sweet darlings -
Good lord, what a time we’re in. Just a couple of things for this Love Blast.
The Truth Is, It’s a Mixed Bag - an essay (audio included if you’d rather hear me read it)
Five Things: Friends & Fam edition plus some
We are all in the middle of so much right now—I hope you’re taking gentle care of yourself and your loved ones right now.
xo
Kathleen
THE TRUTH IS, IT’S A MIXED BAG
{This is an essay I started in December, and finished after rediscovering it last week. If you’d rather listen to the audio, that’s here, too!}
A few months ago, I deleted most of my music from digital distribution, and I feel strange about it. I feel like “what kind of difference will this make anyways” and “am I just erasing myself in an act of protest that doesn’t even do me any good?” and “is this wise?”
The truth is I know in my bones it IS the right move for me, even if it feels awkward and scary and like the end of a lifetime of hoping and dreaming.
The truth is sometimes freedom feels like death.
The truth is after deleting my music from the internet I came home and cried through part of a roll of toilet paper as my dinner sat cooling on the dining table.
The truth is I have felt unmoored and lost for months now, and actually, now that I’m saying it, the deeper truth is that it’s been a sine wave for almost two and a half years: “yes, i’m perfectly on time & on purpose & on track & all is well with the universe!!!!!” (apex), “what in the world am I going to do with the rest of my life and why am I here and what AM i doing now, even, and what have i done??” (nadir) What am I heading toward if no longer the goals I’ve had since before I can remember? Is there even anything to head toward?
The truth is I dream of a bigger house with more light, and more space, and a little piece of Earth to love that’s “ours,” and I’m often bored with the day job I’ve had for twenty years, and everything feels pointless—not in the suicidal way it did for over a decade when I was legit depressed, but more like “this dumpster fire of patriarchy and oligarchic corporatocracy capitalism is fucking me and most of us and our planet, and WHAT IS THE POINT of anything—I’m too old for my old dreams, and I don’t have new dreams, and what is even the point of dreaming when none of them come true and what do I even have to show for four decades of dreaming anyways???? Not even a house to call my own…”
The truth is this feeling of existential pointlessness has been plaguing me on and off for a couple of years, and I don’t know where to put it, what to do with it, how to relate to it.
The truth is I have felt empty, lost, uninspired and unmotivated and tired, and also really really frustrated with the systems as they are. Like, why is the US government busy funding genocide all over the globe when many of its own citizens don’t even have reliable shelter or food?? Why don’t we have universal basic income yet? Why does the NRA have so much pull with our representatives and senators that kids have active shooter drills in school, even though a majority of Americans want reasonable gun control? Why does the US government continue to isolate, abuse and gaslight its citizens? Why do people and systems think artists should not be paid for their work, that the meaning and inherent love of making art should be enough, when, duh, so much of life costs money?? Why don’t people understand that art is not frivolous or unnecessary, but absolutely a necessity of human life? I mean, really, try to go a day without listening to music, watching TV, reading a book, enjoying a painting! Etc., the list goes on.
The truth is I do not like violence, I do not believe in it as a tactic, I avoid violent movies and stand for peace and love and kindness above all else, AND YET, I was thrilled when I found out about the assassination of the United Healthcare CEO, and even more delighted to discover the full scope of the assassin’s brilliant performance art: bullets inscribed with “Delay. Deny,” and a backpack full of Monopoly money. Paris 1789, have we learned nothing in over two hundred years?
The truth is I often don’t know what to do with myself, don’t know where I fit in all of this, don’t know how music and art could possibly matter at all during these times, and then and then and then I have a two-hour meeting on a freezing Wednesday morning with visionary women doing revolutionary work, and it’s all so inspiring and remembering and re-aligning, I can’t help but feel excited about what’s to come, what I have yet to create, and what we are all dreaming and building together.
The truth is sometimes I think maybe even the “who am I, why am I here, do I even belong” questions are self-indulgent unnecessary mind chatter—my place is my place, my role is my role, my work is my work {even if some of me pretends or thinks she doesn’t know what that is}.
The truth is I take medication now, and the medication has changed my life in a million ways for the better—I never knew how hard life was for me until suddenly it wasn’t anymore!!—and also, making art is no longer life or death like it used to be, and inspiration feels like invisible smoke delicately wafting away from me when it used to be a 2x4 to the head—and my access to the cosmic heavenly realms is not what it was before medication. What used to be a wide open portal to the stars is now a thick, impenetrable adobe roof, and though I would make the trade in a second every time and twice on Sundays (it’s no exaggeration to say that medication saved my life), I still miss the spiritual access I used to enjoy, and sometimes it feels like a phantom limb, the third hand I used to have up in heaven where my fingers caressed the stars daily.
The truth is, it’s complicated, it’s mixed, it’s both, and so am I. I think artists should be paid and that the work we do is absolutely as necessary as the work of brain surgeons and optometrists and plumbers, and I also wonder what is even the point of trying to make art when so many of my human siblings don’t even have food or shelter or love in their lives and a very very very small few of my human siblings don’t even care at all about anyone except themselves and their morbidly overstuffed bank accounts.
The truth is I want to start on the next record—it’s written! it’s waiting! it’s a sister album to MEDICINE!—AND my energetic and creative gas tank is still very nearly empty. After making a project that took the better part of a decade, the rest and refill period is taking longer than I am comfortable with, and oh good lord, I’m laughing now—how many times have I said that in my decades of making art—that the rest and refill period is taking longer than I am comfortable with??? Many, I tell you. MANY.
What a cosmic joke this being human is—to keep circling back to the same place but from different heights, to keep forgetting I’ve been here before, to keep remembering what I remembered last time, always just in the nick of time.
The truth is I am happier making music than not, happier singing than not, happier making than not, and still, these days, I cannot seem to hold any of that knowing or feeling in my hands or my body or my heart, and I just want to nap and eat cookies and watch television for a little while longer.
The truth is I used to believe Hollywood was a magical land filled with magical people making magical things, and that being part of it would fulfill my own magical destiny, and while that is true, a lot of other things are also true, and I am still coming to terms with these realities.
The truth is, it’s a mixed bag. All of it. Especially, or at least what I’m exploring right now, this life, my life, as an artist. Shawn and I choose it every day, and…but…also, it’s A. REAL. MIXED. BAG. It’s total self-determination and freedom on the one hand. And, it’s total self-determination and freedom on the other. It’s Wednesday afternoons playing hooky at a hot springs spa, Saturday mornings in the studio, Monday choir rehearsals, and Friday nights complaining about the cost of paying for our own health insurance and wondering if we’ll ever own a home. It’s moments of great and intense highs and creative flow—in front of the camera, in the studio, at the piano, making something that’s never existed, realizing my visions and feeling the bone-deep knowing that “I have always been right about what I was made for—this is the BEST! YES!”—followed by weeks and months of grinding exhaustion and existential questioning about should I go back to school or become an acupuncturist or try to get a corporate job, and further, COULD I EVEN??? I am pretty sure I’m basically unemployable these days—how long has it been since I’ve had to ask for PTO??
I think often of the line in one of Macklemore’s songs: “If I’d’a done it for the money, I’d’a been a fuckin’ lawyer.” Yes, Macklemore, SAME. BUT ALSO, dude, I need money, and honestly, I’d probably be a damn good lawyer.
The truth is, I have no idea how to wrap up this essay. I started it in December the day after I took most of my music off of streaming, and I rediscovered it a few nights ago on the plane back from Los Angeles (work & pleasure & rainbow sequin jumpsuit on a red carpet trip). After a glass of prosecco, I found this on my phone, and reading it slightly buzzed and super tired at thirty-thousand feet, bundled in my travel blanket and fluffy green coat, I realized it was nearly ready to go—good enough writing, good enough perhaps to share with you. Hopefully it wasn’t just the prosecco and exhaustion talking.
The truth is, I suppose, we all go through cycles of death and rebirth, creation and dissolution, expression and reinvention, and every time I do, I think maybe it’s the last time, or that I’ll never actually come back from the ashes this time, or that maybe I’ll never make another piece of art again in my entire life. I freak out and worry and wonder, and then, just as reliably as morning follows night and spring follows winter, inevitably a tender green filament of inspiration or necessity peeks its nascent head out of the just-thawing black dirt, and the next steps are obvious, and there is nothing to do but what is clearly right in front of me, no one to be but who I am, and nowhere to go but exactly just right here, right now.
Five Things: Friends & Fam Edition
FREE BREATHWORK FOR WOMEN - my dear friend Daniella Matutes is doing a research study about the impact of breathwork for women, specifically how breathwork affects female embodiment, anxiety, limiting beliefs and overall emotional-well being. She needs 200 women for the study! To participate, just sign up at the link above, and you will be scheduled for a free private breathwork session with Daniella. All results of the study will be anonymous, and you can contribute to a growing body of work around the efficacy of breathwork for health. The link above takes you to a quick form to fill out, and Daniella will be in touch to schedule after you submit your form.
FREE FLOWER ESSENCE HEALING SESSIONS- my mother Deborah Smith (HI MOM!!!) is a flower essence healing practitioner, and she is offering free sessions. Just shoot an email over & you can schedule. It is all done remotely over Zoom or phone, so you can book from anywhere in the world.
Flower essences are some of the most gentle & powerful medicine I’ve experienced, and my mama is a magical flower queen healer. From glorious kitchen, veggie, and flower gardens, to a garden design business in Reno going into its 3rd decade, to the flower crown she made for my music video for Carpe Diem and more, flowers are her language.
(If you love flower essences, or you have no idea but you’re curious, do ittttt. To learn more, you can listen to my podcast episode about flower essences--OH WAIT, that’s actually an episode about affirmations and how I think they ARE the flower essences of the ideas world. I’ll have to make an episode about flower essences! Until then, turns out there’s another Kathleen obsessed with flower essences, and she has a podcast all about them. You can listen here! Also this episode of the “Wait…WTF” podcast has a great section about flower essences starting at the 13:30 mark!)
Anyhow, shoot an email over to Deborah and get yourself scheduled to experience the magic healing of flower essences.Amie McNee’s Substack - obsessed. current essays I love & relate to: one about not wanting a job, how much we need men’s art right now, and this about ambition. She has a book that just came out—I am about to pick it up from our PO Box!!!
BUSINESS WITCHERY ACCELERATOR - As a world-changing witch with world-changing visions, I’ve come to realize now more than ever how important it is to have world-changing resources. Like, sisters on speed dial and money in the bank. My epic mentor Rachael Maddox is running a 6-month business accelerator for just that. Check it out here! Full disclosure, I am an affiliate and get a lil kickback if you sign up via my link. But I’d literally never promo anything I wasn’t completely obsessed with! We just wrapped the first cohort, and even though I did approximately only 2/3 of the rituals and exercises, it 10/10 plugged me into my unique magic, plus a phenomenal coven of like-minded revolutionaries, and things have already begun to shift in gargantuan ways for me! To hear Rachael talk more about her orientation to all of this, enjoy this Freak Flag episode chat from summer 2024.
SAD SONG QUEENS - this podcast by my pals and music supervisors extraordinaires Laura Webb & Lindsay Wolfington! Featuring one musician per episode, Laura & Lindsay & their guest talk about feelings & grief & music, through the lens of a song by their musician guest. Heartfelt, funny, and intimate, this is one for your ears for sure!
ok.
I love you.
Thank you for being on this wild {also occasionally so stressful and brutal and confounding and also beautiful and inspiring} human cosmic journey with me.
I’d love to hear what’s going on with you right now in the comments or if you want to email me back. What is a mixed bag for you rn? Or complicated? Or what’s on your heart? Or, heck, what’s really f’ing amazing in your life right now? I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR ANY OF IT.
And, if nothing else, even in the mixed bag of it all, I’m here, standing for you and your heart and your art, reminding you to MAKE YOUR ART (if you wish to), even if you wonder if it’s pointless or indulgent or unnecessary.
It’s not, I promise.
And also, we all wonder that sometimes.
I think it’s part of being human—the forgetting and the remembering are built-in. We can never escape it, but we can at least do it together, and sometimes if we’re lucky, you remember when I forget, and I remember when you forget, and we can just keep walking each other home that way.
xx
oh, and here’s the rainbow jumpsuit and a few other things—from the LA work/pleasure/rainbow jumpsuit on a red carpet trip:
🌍👍🏻 sharing is caring. forward this to a pal & spread the love. 🌸😘
🔥 🦋 order your MEDICINE on VINYL ❤️🔥 and/or DIGITAL 💖 🌈
I'm sorry to be late in the commenting but I have been holding my love and admiration close. "What a cosmic joke this being human is—to keep circling back to the same place but from different heights, to keep forgetting I’ve been here before, to keep remembering what I remembered last time, always just in the nick of time." Thank you for seeing and being seen. xo