On Lifeboats

Many years ago, when I was just post-divorce and the kids' dad and I settled into our shared parenting plan, I knew something would immediately have to change in my life. I could barely stand being home when Bailey & Coop weren't there. What was, on one night of the week, a warm and happily buzzing household would turn quiet, sterile and empty on the next. The kids would leave and I felt strangled by the quietness of the four walls around me.

And that’s when I got serious about music. I had a couple evenings a week I needed to fill with something other than being home, and so I tried to be brave and step out into what had been my passion since I was 4 years old. I filled my time with a second love of my life and that second love quickly showed itself to be a purposeful and a fulfilling vocation.

People often ask me where I get the time to do all the things we do. After all, I have a job that helps us pay the bills and health insurance (le sigh, adulting), we have busy schedules with the kiddos’ after school activities and we tour nonstop. The answer is, I use every free moment that I have to pursue creativity. By the way, I’m not noble for doing that. I literally had to do it to survive and it's now habit. I didn't give anything up to begin this journey in music because it was the only path I had to keep surviving.

Music was a lifeboat and I clung to it amid those choppy waters of change and grief. And during those years where I couldn’t stand to go to sleep in my own house when my children weren’t there, I learned to love that lifeboat, cherish it, cultivate it, let it change and grow and intertwine itself with me.

Throughout that, a very beautiful thing happened over time: I became the lifeboat. Music intertwined itself so deeply within me and my identity that I no longer clung to the activities I would have on nights when my kids were at their dad’s house as survival. Instead, I slowly became my own savior, knowing that I had an identity that could exist, not outside of, but within my identity as a mom. It was an identity of my own, my own kind of fierce motherhood, fiercely in love with my kids and fiercely creative and growing as an individual, fiercely in love with this new creature I was becoming. 

And with those changes in myself, the narrative around music changed. I became less of a servant to the rescue of music and I began to ask question around how my relationship with music could grow and serve my identity and my family’s identity better. 

Anyone who has been a full time musician or artist of any kind understands the absolute grind of the work. It’s never ending. You are constantly feeding the belly of the “content beast” that is never full or satisfied. You become a marketing wizard, a booking ninja, an expert on all things digital. The thing is, none of those things are music.

And thus, they add to the grind, but not necessarily the enjoyment: the life saving breath of fresh air that music is. And in the end, you wonder: is anyone listening? Is there a listener on the other side of this work that I’m putting out into the universe? Does it matter? And then, when your identity is intertwined with this, that question evolves to something like:  do I matter? 

We just wrapped up a very intense year of 2 releases and constant touring, and now I’m asking myself - how does my lifeboat of creativity serve me best now? How do I serve it best? After all, we are one and the same. 

And it comes back full circle, to the beginning. Where do I find my creativity saving me, pulling me out of the mud and mire of mere adulthood? First, I find it on stage with Chris. I mean, just look at us! That is not business adult mom Jen, professional, together and adult. That is wild, untethered, blissful Jen. Secondly, I find myself saved in writing music: stretching and pulling the winding strings of thoughts and strands of memories into a melodic fixture, a point of time where the past and emotion become forever encapsulated into song. But finally, I find it in change and newness.

So, while the first two I've got down, I now want to focus on letting myself explore new ideas and not tying myself down to the same thing we’ve done before. Let's dive into the scary and unknown space of trying. Try some new shit, maybe even some scary shit. I want to be open. That in itself is a lifeboat, to not get caught up in the cycle of what I’m comfortable with. 

I’m excited for a few months to go into hibernation and figure out the newness for a bit. We’ll see what comes out on the other side :) 

There will only be a couple opportunities over the next 6 months to see Camp Crush in action. We’re doing a concert for Charity at the Old Church for Sing Out, Portland on November 23. Tix available now! Now, back to my imagination lab and searching for that next lifeboat hiding in the closet.