Ok, I’ve been inside my head all week. Mulling and obsessing as usual. Here’s what it looks like:

You may have caught the news, that former gothic novelist, Anne Rice has decried Christianity, in the name of Christ…Her words, not mine. With all the eloquent prose befitting her talents as a writer, she’s attempting to shed the label but not her faith.

The blogosphere went nuts; instantly posting, judging, cheering and jeering Ms. Rice’s exasperated expression. Many comments to the effect of “Get in or get out!”, “Put up or shut up”, “Be either hot or cold”…

I’ll be honest and say that after a week of ruminating over Ms. Rice’s comments I have experienced both elation and devastation on both sides of the coin. I so very deeply understand the frustration of identifying with the label of Christianity with which many parts of me seem incomplete when attempting to please all under its banner. At the same time, I have an acute awareness in recognizing that I am equally a powerful agent for the legacy, definition and culture of a diverse, mysterious faith.

But the questions that come to my mind this week are sociological/psychological in nature:

What are some of the labels I adopt, willfully or intrinsically?
Are there ones I wish I could choose/remove?
What is the value/effect of the personal adoption/rejection of these labels to me? To others?
Am I content with how the diverse elements of my life form the picture of my whole being?
Is it the label that makes me recognizable or valid?
Is the person I seek to be still honored without the assignment of grouping?

I know, I know- it’s a lot of questions. So let’s start small.
Here are a few ‘labels’ I have adopted and have been given:

woman, musician, artist, business woman, world traveler, writer, daughter, lesbian, country girl, student, employee, employer, leader, servant, Christian, Kansan, Australian, American…

I’m really curious, what are some of the labels you wear?

(click on this blogs header to view the comments section)

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Links: Anne Rice Facebook, gestalt : principle of totality

Another view: Michael Rowe/Huffington Post; Alisa Harris/Patrol Online

No doubt, one of the most anticipated dates on my calendar this year, I had the opportunity to catch up with Lilith Fair 2010 in Kansas City and St. Louis this July.

First, it was a bit of a crap shoot ever getting a spot. (There’s not a girl with a guitar on this planet that wouldn’t consider all kinds of bribery to get this gig!) At the time that Sarah McLachlin & Co. were putting their line-up together, I was hardly worth mentioning. I hadn’t toured in years and didn’t even have a record pieced together. Most folks had only heard a whisper of my return. On a wing and a prayer, we tossed my hat in the ring and hoped…and to my surprise and honor, I got a couple of days!

Two dates are better than none, especially when you get to see up-close performances Sarah, Emmylou Harris and Mary J Blige!

I dunno why, but I’ve never been one to get too excited about things. About the best you get out of me is a wry smile and a laid-back response like “Yeah, that was very cool.”  It takes a lot to get me jumping up and down, but Mary J’s performance in St. Louis had me stupid with excitement. I actually got out of my seat and jumped up and down a few times. I seriously thought my head was going to explode in joy ala Femme-bot style!

Considering how hot and unholy the weather was, it was a miracle I could even move at the end of the day. Everything was burnt to a crisp and then made soggy by hours of sweating. Fortunately, there were little patches of shade we could all share, have a chat and take a few photos. I don’t know why any of you would have wanted to even come near me, but then again, you guys were just as gross as I was! Nonetheless, I met some fabulous people. Not to mention just how humbling it was to have folks show up just cause they knew you’d be there.

By far the best moment was being on stage and watching my family come over the hill. Like I said, it was a miserably hot day, but they braved the weather. It gave me a chance to perform Mr Gray for my Grandparents for the first time…for which I received the most beautiful, sweaty kisses. Seriously, how much better can you get…

A few pics HERE

Behind the Scenes video HERE

A few years ago I joined a weekly group with several other artists. There were painters, photographers, writers, and actors. Few made a living through their chosen form of expression, but all were drawn to try and comprehend this compulsion we seemed to share: Creativity. To help our conversations along, we chose the book The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. Little did I know what kind of impact this book would have in my life.

As I talk to more & more artists, I am comforted to know that few are eternal wellsprings of constant inspired creativity. Frankly, some days it feels like I’ll never write another thing again, and worse, can convince myself that perhaps it doesn’t even matter. Fears, irrationality, irritability can trick me into long periods of inactivity. If it’s not ‘inspired’, I don’t want it. I stop writing, when what I should be doing is anything I can to get the pump working again.

Generally, I know I need to take some purpose to my creativity when I start pacing around the house, eating cookies for breakfast and muttering to myself: “You should be writing. You haven’t written anything in while. What’s your problem?”  I avoid. I mope.

But the jig is up. Now that I’ve been through this a few times, I realize I can sit there and atrophy, or get up and start moving. Everything I create doesn’t have to be gold, nor does it have to be shared, but I do have to keep the muscles moving. Knit a sweater, draw a bowl of fruit, listen to music, write a letter to an inspiring person…

The Artist’s Way has been a good tool for me to grease the wheels of my creativity. It keeps me moving and mindful. I’ve been revisiting this book lately and it has been a great reminder to me that I needn’t fall over in a heap when I’ve nothing inspired rattling around in my head. The exercises get me writing and thinking. I hate to admit it, but sometimes the structure does me good.

Sometimes, Cameron reaches a little far into the realms of self-help for my liking, but at the very least, this series has equipped me with the notion that a moving mind is more likely to create than an idle one. What I like is that she doesn’t teach you how to write or paint or sculpt, that’s not the point. It’s not about launching oneself into an explosion of productivity so that we can be world-renown songwriters or the next Picasso. It’s about the need for expression that we all have and getting onto the business of exploring just how creative we all can be.