“Ten times a day something happens to me like this - some strengthening throb of amazement - some good sweet empathic ping and swell. This is the first, the wildest and the wisest thing I know: that the soul exists and is built entirely out of attentiveness.”― Mary Oliver

This past Saturday after I’d left the recording studio I went down to the pond and floated for awhile on a little blow up raft. The air was cool and clean for Indiana in June. A needed rainstorm that had come through during the night blew out a good deal of the summer humidity leaving South Central Indiana many degrees cooler and refreshed. All around the pond the smooth beech, the spreading sycamore, the stately oak and generous maple trees were sighing like a thirsty person who has drank their fill, and now wiping their mouth with the back of a grateful hand.

The wood thrush were singing to one another, calling across the hills in their strange and beautiful voices, two voice boxes in one throat, a miracle song that sounds like the love-child of a flute a bell and a chime. I stayed there quietly and long enough to become part of the scenery, of no alarm to a doe and fawn delicately making their way across the dam and up into the woods.

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For many years my friend, Suzanne, owned a fabulous yarn shop. It had lots of beautiful yarn and offered weaving and knitting classes. It was also a community gathering place where people stopped by to sit around a table, maybe get a few tips when working through a tricky pattern and enjoy being in the company of others engaged in the slow rhythm of making something beautiful and useful with four wooden sticks and a ball of string. For several months I’d been stopping by the shop to chat with my friend, but then end up spending significant time wandering around the store touching all the soft colorful yarn. Eventually she handed me a birthday gift certificate for a sock class say in was time to learn to knit. Actually socks are a bit advanced to start with, but the class was taught by a great teacher who patiently walked me through the process of creating my first pair of hand knit socks which I was quite proud to have completed —even though they could have easily fit the feet of the Jolly Green Giant. Since then I’ve continued to knit, mostly small things that can be tucked into a purse or backpack. I’ve grown to appreciate doing something that requires a slower rhythm and can only happen one stitch at a time.

The four things I learned in that first knitting class….

1. Use good of yarn. If you are going to spend that much time knitting something beautiful, useful and lasting, it should be a pleasure to feel the yarn moving through your fingers.

2. Settle In and Be Present Knitting happens one stitch at a time. You can’t rush a hand knit glove or sock or scarf or sweater. Settle in, enjoy the process. Love the rhythm of the looping yarn around a needle and pulling it through. Love the feel of the yarn, the love the person for whom the piece is being created.

3. Envision — Imagine the finished piece. Knitting requires being present in the here and now, doing what can only be done one stitch at a — but it also helps to envision, to imagine the beautiful thing you are creating, something that might not be finished for quite some time.

4. Every now and then - stop and admire your work. This was very important. Knitting takes time, and so our teacher encouraged us all to stop every 15 minutes so, lay down our work, smooth with our hands and admire what we’d done.

Even though her advice was specific to knitting, I often feel like it was good advice in the course of any busy day. Pay attention to the quality of things, learn to settle in and be present, envision something beautiful, and every now and then pause and admire how far you’ve come.

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My knitting teacher knew that doing more and doing it faster is not always better. There is a shining quality to things that are done by hand, created with time, shared around a table with a community.

She knew that somethings can only happen one step at a time, one stitch at a time. Like a beautiful hand knitted item, I cannot knit the last row before knitting the row I am currently knitting. I have to settle into the chapter of the book I’m currently reading, learn what this chapter has to teach me, then reading the next. In fact if I am always trying to knit the last row before it’s time to knit the last row, the piece gets jumbled and pattern gets tangled.

She also knew that it’s good to take breaks, and even to take stock in how far you’ve come. I loved this little bit of advice. I can be very goal oriented at times and I’m passionate about the things I hope to contribute in the world. I want to do my part to create the better, kinder more just world. I see how far we have to go and that knowledge sometimes comes with a desire to rush and accelerate my days. It is good to lay down my knitting, smooth my hands over the even stitches, realized how much love is going into this emerging piece. Yes, there is a fierce urgency of now, and so I take the step I need to take today. It is good to tell one another stories of struggle and change, but also tell one another stories of when our hopes were answered and our work mattered.

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Practice

Take a short walk outside our even around a favorite room of your home. Deliberately take twice as long to walk where ever you are going. Notice what you notice by going a bit slower. When you arrive at the mailbox or kitchen sink or favorite chair look back and admire the steps you took to reach this place. Love the journey, love the steps love the place you arrived and love the return. If you feel like it, create a haiku or a two line description of the experience.

Question

Even if you are not a knitter, did anything about this post resonate for you. What do you think about these four bits of advice. Is there one that resonated for you and why?

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Music Always Music

I’m in the studio right now and have LOVED working this week with some of my favorite musicians on the planet — Gary Walters, Jim Brock, Paul Kowert, Jordan Tice, Ella Jordan, Ben Sollee and of course David Weber. I’ll be posting more about the upcoming album in the coming weeks. But know I’m so excited about this project and can’t wait to share it with you all!

My last album was titled “A Great Wild Mercy”. Here’s the lyric video from that project :-)

One Inch Photos

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… more to come!

“I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”~ Maya Angelou

I’ve heard the last powerful line of this piece written by Maya Angelou quoted many times, but it was only recently I encountered the full quote. I really loved all the wisdom, truth and good humor in the extended writing. I love how she holds what she’s learned with a sense of confidence and gratitude —and yet with enough humility and curiosity to say “I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn.”

I also thought how fun and creative it would be to borrow her phrase “I’ve learned” and use it as a writing prompt. I mean think of all the things you’ve learned over the years—the hard and the holy, the mysteries that will always remain mysterious, the clean edges of truth, the soft edges of every kindness given or received, the way trouble and wonder will continue to show up, sometimes leaving us beached and breathless with uncontainable joy or unutterable sorrow.

I think of all the times I was knocked to my knees by a beautiful and brilliant flash of the completely obvious.

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This week, I wrote an elected official in my home state.

I write to my representatives often. When the letters are counted, I want my voice to be clear. I usually write respectfully. I begin by thanking the legislator for something—even when it takes effort to find common ground. Then I explain my concern, describe the harm I believe a bill or policy may cause, and suggest a different course of action. I almost always ask for a response because I believe public servants should be accountable to the people they represent and able to explain the reasoning behind their positions.

This week was different.

I did not begin with thanks. Instead, I wrote that I was personally, morally, and spiritually offended by a recent proclamation and media campaign issued by the Governor’s Office. On the first day of Pride Month, June was officially declared “Nuclear Family Month.”

I found the proclamation deeply hurtful. It seemed designed not to celebrate families, but to diminish and exclude those who do not fit a narrow definition of family. The accompanying AI imagery felt less like an affirmation of values and more like rage baiting. To me, it was insulting to anyone who honors diversity, believes in justice, or has found meaning in the radical message of love and welcome found in the Gospels. It was insulting to anyone who believes in the goodness and power of love itself.

And so this post is my own proclamation.

A proclamation of love.

A proclamation for all the ways love shows up in the world: in friendships, partnerships, marriages, families, chosen families, communities, and acts of kindness between friends, acquaintances and strangers. A proclamation for the dignity and worth of every person and for the beauty, strength, and wisdom found in diverse communities.

Every day seems to bring another heartbreaking affront to values many of us hold dear, as well as the institutions that help sustain democracy and human dignity. The losses come so hard and fast there is scarcely time to grieve one before another arrives.

Seeing this proclamation in my local news broke my heart yet again.

But heartbreak is not the end of the story.

So what can we do today?

1. Lift up all the many colors of love, all the many ways we express love, and all the individuals, partners, and families who are living into love every day.

2. Celebrate the gifts, wisdom, and resilience that diverse communities bring to our lives and our world.

3. If you live in Indiana, write to the Governor and express your disapproval of this campaign.

4. Go to Voter.org and make sure you are registered to vote, and then encourage three others in your circle to do the same.

5. Allow yourself space to grieve. Seek sanctuary in trusted community. Rest, restore, and recharge.

6. Do something that reconnects you to your deepest values, to the natural world, to treasured community, and to the enduring mercy and goodness that is still at work and moving through the world.

7. Remember that you are not alone. Reach out to others. Let someone know they are seen, valued, and they are not carrying their concerns all by themselves.

8. Make room for joy. Joy, celebration, and living well are not distractions from the work—they are part of the work.

9. Remember that you do not have to do everything. Every act of kindness, courage, compassion, and love shifts the balance. Every voice matters. You matter. Love matters.

Love is still here.

Love is still powerful.

We are many, and we are great with love.

Question

No question today, but instead let’s support one another with affirmations and our own proclaim actions. If you feel like it, try writing something affirming to the community such as “Im here, doing what is mine to do - I know you are too” or “ Love is still the greatest power” or “we are many and we are great with love” or “Love is here and I am here” or your own statement about the strength and presence of love in the world.

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Music Always Music

I’ve posted this song, Room At The Table, before, but it feels appropriate today. This version was filmed as the closing song of a concert performance with Gary Walters and The Second Presbyterian Church Choir of Indianapolis IN.

One Inch Photos

A mother Carolina Wren built a nest inside my garage. These little Carolina Wren babies fledged about a week ago, but this is when they were all fuzzy first feathers, blinky eyes and wide yellow mouths.

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As I stared at the trail map, I saw the friendly little red arrow that pointed to where I was on the map, its caption: You Are Here. It seemed not only to serve as a locator, but as a reminder that I was living right now, breathing in the woods, that there was life around me, that the natural world was right here and I was a part of it; I was nature too. - Robin Wall Kimmerer

One of the things I like about travel is that it always drops me smack dab into the middle of here and now. Some of that is functional. If you aren’t paying attention you miss the correct exit, show up too late or too early, trip on a crack in the sidewalk or step out into traffic. It’s good practice and it reminds me to look around with the same kind of awareness, presence and curiosity when I return home. Our lives are busy and it is easy to slip into autopilot moving through the day in established patterns. It’s easy to forget that there is always something wonderful, powerful, curious, mysterious, awe-inspiring or poignant just waiting for a simple turn of my head, a shift in the way I am seeing, an intentional opening of the aperture of the heart.

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In June I’m is back in the studio recording a new album and Parker is deep into several creative projects. So this month we are revisiting a podcast that was recorded in May 2022. Episode 65 Podcast The Promise of Loving Kindness, The Problem of Evil In this podcast we explore the poems “What I’ve Learned So Far” by Mary Oliver and “Small Kindnesses” by Danusia Lameris. We also engage with the question pf how we might hold the both/and of our lives—the goodness as well as a clear and present danger, even evil at work in the world. Now in the middle of the second term of the Trump administration this conversation feels particularly timely. I glad you’re joining us for this episode and hope you’ll join the conversation.

Here is the Link to Listen to the Podcast on I-Tunes, Spotify, and The Growing Edge Website

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What did this podcast bring up for you? Did the poems we explored have special meaning for you?

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“A really good conversation shifts our questions. Maybe we could say that every social movement can be traced to the weaving of a question shift. In my experience, questions shifts do not happen quickly.” John Paul Lederach

This is a song called “Who Done It” that appeared on my album Until Now. The song uses the metaphor and imagery of an old time who-done-it movie. I wrote the song as a way of holding my sometimes impatient impulse to seek out answers with my creative and continuing relationship to meaningful questions.

What might it be like to become more patient with mysteriously unfolding threads of my own story, and what does it mean to allow even the questions themselves to evolve and shift as well. In my experience, growth and healing is rarely (if ever) linear. Insights often come at unexpected times and often through unexpected people. And as much as we seek answers to the most important questions, some mysteries will always remain mysteries.

My daughter, Amelia, was a very inquisitive child., and a very early talker. By the time she was three years old she was stringing together full sentences, using complex words and ideas, and during this time period her very favorite word was “why”. Often her ongoing narration of the world and the questions that living brings would arrive in a rapid stream of consciousness fashion— “Why is the sky blue” “Why do trees have leaves?” “Why do ants have knees” “Why might a unicorn knocked on the door and ask to come in for lunch?” This is before being able to easily Google a question or consult ChatGPT. I either knew the answer to her question or I’d look it up in a book, ask someone who might know, call up a local reference librarian (yes, GenZ, that was a thing) or punt with the answer, “Because of Magic Darling.” She was happy enough with this arrangement until she was about five years old, when she gave me a side-eye glance and announced she needed to cross check my facts in the Encyclopedia Britannica. I loved that kid. I still love that kid who is now grown up into a brilliant researcher, cross-reference facts all on her own.

But I digress. I’m a seeker, it’s true. Like Amelia, I’ve always loved a good story and pondering meaningful questions. So the song “Who Done It” was written to be a bit wry, a bit serious, a bit of an affirmation of the journeys we travel and how the most important questions often return again and again, sometimes in the same form, sometimes shifting in important ways.

I’ve discovered that learning to “be” with a question can take some time. I’ve also found that shifting my question can have a profound effect —and this often takes time as well. Here’s a couple of artistic question shifts, “how do I write a masterpiece song” and instead asked “What might happen if I just write the song I write today without quantifying or measuring in some way.” Another artist shift was “If I write songs that seem simple, will people think i’m incapable of writing something complex” to “What if simple is never easy, but elegant— no more or less than exactly what I’m trying to say?”

Other shifts “how do I talk to my enemy” to “what if the aperture of compassion can stretch wider than I ever believed.”

Anyway…there is no answer in this post…as usual, I’ve never written a song or poem or story because I had an answer. I write because I continue to have questions, and it is always the questions that have led me forward and as the song says

“I’m just following my nose, with a notebook and a pen.” Its alright, it’s not too late, its just gonna take as long as its gonna take.

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Hi folks,. I forgot to leave a comment button! If you have a thought about today’s post I’d love to share thoughts with you!

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Who Done It

It all comes down to timing
A moment seized or missed
Like a spool of thread unwinding
Like a mystery with a twist

When it had to be the butler
The parson or ingenue
The doctor or the chauffeur 
Or maybe it was you

Chorus: But its all right, 
Its not too late
It’s just gonna take as long 
As its gonna take

Now it doesn't really matter
You don't have to think it through
That movie’s old and faded
And there's nothing left to do

Somethings don't have an answer
Just the meaning that we make
From playing out the cards
And wrestling with grace

Chorus But its all right, 
Its not too late
It’s just gonna take as long 
As its gonna take

Bridge
I've been circling a sparkler
Like a signal in the deep
My pocket full of ghosts
That have finally gone to sleep

Verse On a train to old Chicago
An alley behind the bar
The clues were barely hidden
I'd already come this far

But the hero didn't show up 
The inspector blew the case
So I’ve been picking up the pieces 
And putting them in place

And since were being honest 
I don't know how this book ends
I'm just following my nose 
With a notebook and a pen

Chorus 
But its all right, 
Its not too late
It’s just gonna take as long 
As its gonna take

By Carrie Newcomer

Things I loved this week…

Your comments

“So much of what makes us truly human, things like kindness, curiosity, imagination, resilience, compassion, the ability to sit with uncertainty, these things don’t fit neatly into a standardized test score. But I find those qualities to be the most important parts of a meaningful life.” Ray Kauffmann

Your typewriter poem brings back memories of my mom. She was a faithful activist committed to stopping the military draft. I think she did! Daily plunk plunk wham sounds, for years, as she pulled that lever across the advance a new line. Multiple carbon copies to go to more senators about why the drafting of young men was wrong.Thanks for the memory that nothing is easy, persistence wins, and public sentiment really does change. CW

Books

Theo of Golden by by Allen Levi (a study of kindness, forgiveness and the human condition

One Inch Photos

This is more of a throw back photo that seemed to work with the topic of the song and post. Considering the Orient Express style mystery in the song “who done it” this (the cover of my album “Before & After” —following my nose, with a notebook and a pen :-)

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Hi Folks,

Last week my husband and I cleaned out a pole barn that had over the years become the repository of everything that was broken or we didn’t know what to do with in our lives. We live in a traditional four square home and so the closets are small with very little storage. I think people just didn’t accumulate stuff like we do at the turn of the last century. Anyway, considering the state of our national politics at this moment, I found myself with a powerful desire to get rid of all the literal broken shit in my life. Yes, there was some definite symbolism going on. So we cleaned out the barn, threw away was was broken, sent what was useable to the Re-Store, and organized what needed to stay on freshly cleaned and dusted shelves. Afterwards, we put away the eco spray bottles, took a shower, and felt better and lighter for our efforts. Now you know one of my personal quirks. I have lots of meaningful and joyous ways I work with the complexity, uncertainty and stresses of life, but sometimes nothing feels as immediately satisfying as organizing closets, junk drawers, kitchen and laundry room shelves — and last week it was the barn. Its human size, its doable, totally within my power.

Since the last election well, it suffices to say that my sock drawer has never ever been this well organized.

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Reminder for folks, in May I offer my bi-annual 30% off forever on new subscriptions! But a deep bow of gratitude to all the supporting subscribers!

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Gift Subscriptions In May I’m also offering a 35% for one year Gift Subscriptions. If you would love to give a springtime gift subscription to a friend here’s the link.

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Now onto the post….

I’m reposting an excerpt of a story, with a bit of new thought included.

“Wind finally gets where it was going
through the snowy trees, and the river, even
when frozen, arrives at the right place.
And sometimes you sense how faithfully your life
is delivered, even though you can’t read the address.”
                                                     Thomas R. Smith (from the poem “Trust”)

The poem “Trust” by Thomas R. Smith muses about how trustingly we post a letter. We hand our bill payments or birthday cards to an unknown person at the desk or drop them in a mailbox on the corner. How interesting it is to look back at how the “letter” of my life has passed from container to container, hand to hand, carried in backpacks and guitar cases, folded up in so many coat or shirt pockets, holding space like a bookmark or laid carefully on night tables or tossed in the passenger seat of a million rental cars. We get from here to there so mysteriously and gratefully, because arriving well and in relative safety was never a guarantee. A letter will sometimes get lost. I know mine did more than once. And yet we are here.

A participant in a retreat I was leading once told me a story about this kind of trust. She had recently moved into a new home, a charming little house built in the 1930’s. She knew from the closing documents that two families had lived in this home over the years, and she could see reminders of the lives lived there, the grand shade tree by the street, the daffodils and perennials that came up in the flower beds, the marks on a door frame to measure the growth of three children. One day, she found an envelope postmarked from Europe in the mailbox. She was not expecting a letter from that part of the world and she noticed it was addressed to the original owners of the home, a couple who had lived there from the 1920’s into their old age in the 1970’s. She opened the envelope and found a letter from the son of the family writing home to his parents. The son was in the army during WWII and had sent a letter to let his worried parents know he was alright and would be coming home soon. The letter had gotten lost in a post office in the Netherlands. The office was being close and anything in the lost letter bins were sent to whatever address was on the envelope. And so this letter finally reached home, nearly 80 years later, long after the son had returned safely from his tour of duty.

The new owner of the home, did a bit of research about the names in the letter and found that the son had returned and had settled down in the same town. Eventually she found and contacted the daughter of the soldier who was amazed and delighted to have this remembrance of her father who had recently passed away.

There are so many miracles in this story. That the letter was lost and found all those years later. The letter was not just tossed in the waste bin when the post office was closing, but sent on to the original address. The woman telling me the story had received the letter and taken the time to find the family of the young man who had written it. When the family was found and the letter finally delivered, it did not arrive in the 1940’s to the waiting parents, but instead arrived to comfort a grateful and grieving daughter.

There are many ways we get from here to there, so many twists and turns in life time, the doors that opened and led us onto a new threshold, the ones that closed and also sent us in a new direction. There have been so many chance encounters— the right person who showed up at the right time. There were times when our plans were undone and our dreams dissolved like salt in a glass of water. There were all the times when what finally arrived was more creative and beautiful than what we could have ever imagined.

The letter of our life has continued to arrive, delivered even when we couldn’t yet read the address.

It takes a kind of trust to drop a letter in the mail. I suppose it’s a trust we’ve gotten used to after long experience with sealing an envelope and placing a stamp in the right hand corner. It is something I try to remember in troubled times, or when I find myself again at another threshold.

Everything has brought you here, and you have everything you need to take the next step. The letter has been sent and it is always on the way.

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Question

What did this post bring up for you? What does it mean to drop a letter in the mailbox of our lives? Have you ever looked back and seen how a “letter” you sent to yourself long ago, arrived at the right time?

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Music Always Music

I’ve just been listening a lot to Madison Cunningham lately. If you aren’t familar with her music this is a beautiful song she wrote about her grandmother.

Concerts & Retreats

I’ll be off the road this summer to do some creative work and make a new album! I’ll be back traveling to wonderful places in the fall. You can check out my tour page at

www.carrienewcomer.com/tour

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I know that a paid subscription is not for everyone, and so there will always be free content here at A Gathering of Spirits. I’m grateful and welcome all subscribers (paid or free).

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Welcome to the song share. I’ve really enjoyed sharing new songs with the folks here at Substack. This one is called “All My Burdens” and was written in the form of a simple lullabye. It’s about self compassion and the miracle of healing. A shout out to my friend Karyn for the encouragement to write this song.

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“In fog we move at the pace of proximity - John Paul Lederach

In February nature dreams the dream of sleeping, listening to a far away song and allowing a deeply held promise to inch into consciousness. May is here and the song that February could

almost hear has arrived. The birds of summer are calling to one another is the woods. The first hummingbird zips by leaving only a flash of color and air eddys in its wake. Earlier this spring I worked in my barn coat and boots, gently clearing a couple of new paths in the woods. When I create a new path I pay close attention to the contours of the land, following the natural deer trails, traveling like a good neighbor and walking companion to all that is already here in this world, My goal was to connect up to another path I created last year in early April that allowed a walker to see the gracious curves and ravines leading to the pond from new angles. I only make new paths in the early spring, because at that time of year all is just emerging, the cool light streams through the budding trees illuminating the beautiful folds of the earth around my home. Standing half way up to the ridgetop the hills look like rumpled brown and beige blankets, the waterways branching down the hills remind me of a tanned farmer’s beautiful laugh lines. But as we enter May, the spring leaves have mostly filled in, the forest underbrush has thickened and it has become harder to see the contours of the land. In May it becomes harder to find or make a new way forward. No, it is not impossible—but you have to go slower, stepping carefully so as not to trip or fall, assuming all the while that at some point you’ll feel lost and have to retrace your steps to get your bearings again.

In May, I’ll be exploring making paths and finding a way forward, even when the forest has become thick, when walking the closer paths are a bit like driving in the fog. When the way is hard to see, I just have to slow down and pay attention to what is close in — traveling one human size step at a time.

Last evening I walked one of the new paths made in the early spring. I could remember how in March the way felt spacious and full of becoming. In March I marveled at all the first subtle wildflowers, and it was ease to avoid where new growth was emerging. But now, in the full greenness of May, the woods are bursting with everything that vines, twines, lifts its face to the light and spreads its arms open under the soft sun and moon. The path felt closer, more intimate, a little more perilous to navigate. I was grateful for the work I’d done so carefully when my view was more expanded. I gave myself a little pat on the back saying, “Thank you past Carrie, for building what you’d be grateful for later.”

There are times in my life when the way forward expanded, the truth of the way seemed so clear. There have been times when the contours of the landscape of my soul and the world around me were visible and true even if they were still filled with bends and turns and wrinkles.

There have been times when I’ve walked in very close woods, when the path felt more unsure and less clear where exactly the way was leading me. I’ve even walked some of those close and intimate paths in the gathering dark, using a small flashlight illuminating only as far as a small beam could reach.

But how many times did I find myself walking the dark paths of the darkening woods and stopped for a moment, my heart to big for my chest, moved by the beauty all around me—even then, even now, navigating the most perilous way home, grateful to tears for the way the moon rises through the tree in glimpses and whispers, in love with the sound of the evening birds singing their evening songs.

Now is when we rely on the true paths, the ones that we established in the times of expansive view, the ones that were created step by careful step in the dark. Now is when we pay attention to what is close in and right in front of us.

Now is when we know the way forward is not impossible—but know we are, for the moment, walking with the limited uncertain view of a May forest path. Beloved, now is when we know that yes there is a way and all around us there is still something glorious, something beautiful, something still holding us with kindness and companionship—sure as the moonlight filtering through the leaves, as sure as the deer that walk these trails with us, sure as February dreams and May sings.

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Please feel free to share, like or restack to notes this post. It helps welcome more traveling companions on this path together.

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Practice

Tonight before you go to sleep take several long deep breaths and then say out loud, “What has been done has been done, What has not been done has not been done—let it be.”

Question

What did the post above bring up for you? Have you ever had to slow down on the path, because the way was less clear.

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Music Always Music

This song is called “Thank You Good Night” from A Permeable Life. It was based a prayer my friend Richard the artist taught me, “What has been done has been done, What has not been done has not been done—let it be.” It’s about ending the day with a sense of gratitude, taking some rest in knowing we have done all we could do in one day.

Online Appearances

I had a wonderful conversation with Bishal Karna and on the “The Spiritual Context” Podcast. I hope you’ll join us! Here’s the Instagram LINK. Here’s The YouTube LINK

Concerts and Retreats

I have just a few public concerts in the next months as I will be focusing on recording the new album. But one new free concert in May in Sandusky OH has been added. I’ll be back on the road in the fall and winter. You can check out my full calendar at www.carrienewcomer.com/tour

May Semi-Annual 30% Off Forever on NEW Supporting Subscriptions - AND 35% Off for one year on Gift Subscriptions

Reminder for folks, in May I offer my bi-annual 30% off forever on new subscriptions! I know a supporting subscription is not for everyone, so there will always be free content here at A Gathering of Spirits. But a deep bow of gratitude to all the supporting subscribers. You make this creative endeavor possible.

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Gift Subscriptions In May I’m also offering a 35% for one year Gift Subscriptions. So if there is someone you would love to give a springtime - just because - gift subscription here’s the link.

Get 35% off for 1 year

Dear Friends,

Just a reminder …

Twice a year I do a Semi-Annual 30% off Forever Subscription Sale for NEW Annual subscribers. Here’s the LINK.

I know that a paid subscription is not for everyone, and so there will always be free content here at A Gathering of Spirits. I’m grateful and welcome all subscribers (paid or free).

That said, A Gathering of Spirits is completely reader supported and works a bit like NPR in that about 10% of readers choose to support and make this creative endeavor and online community possible. I deeply enjoy creating and maintaining this Substack presence. It takes a great deal creative and professional time, thought and of course—a whole lotta love! Thank you to everyone who makes this Substack offering possilbe

Get 30% off forever

May 35% Off on One Year Gift Subscriptions!

In May I added and new offering of 35% for one year on all Gift Subscriptions. If there is someone you think would really enjoy my column and this community this could be a nice time to send them a gift!

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Hi Folks,

I was visiting my daughter, Amelia, spending a little time in the kitchen. We chatted about this and that waiting for the water to boil for tea. While we were waiting she opened the dishwasher, straightened up and patted herself on the back and said, “Good Job Past Amelia” then proceeded to put away the dishes. I asked her what had just happened and she explained that she’d forgotten how last evening after dinner she’d very wisely put all the dishes in the dishwasher and set it to wash while she was asleep. When she opened the dishwasher all the dishes were clean and ready to put away or use. She had made it a practice to give appreciation to “Past Amelia” whenever some past action or good intention showed up in a helpful way in the present. She said she sometimes gives little gifts to “Future Amelia”, like putting dishes in the dishwasher, or getting enough sleep or buttoning up a project before she leaves for vacation. She’ll even say out loud, “Gift to Future Amelia” followed by another pat on the back.

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You can trust what I’m saying is pretty much authentic— well, because I’m a folk singer and I’m really really bad at being insincere.

I often think about my poor mother, who was good-hearted and loving, but private and intentional by nature — and called to raise a child born to be a poet/songwriter who would often say things like, “Let’s talk about everything and about our feelings. Let’s talk about stuff sincerely and openly—and in public…most likely in a song. To her eternal credit, she mostly rolled with it all, which is blessed in so many ways.

I know theater people who can strike a pose when asked directly, “Hey, are we heading into a surprise birthday party for me?’ and straight faced and convincingly answer “Naw, it’s just dinner with a couple of friends” and pull it off. I’m just warning you now, do not tell me about a surprise party until right before it happens.

Nope, I’m never going to be good at being insincere, its just not in the cards.

And so honestly, the truth is I’ve struggled this week holding the surrealness of this moment in history when everyday something new breaks my heart. I am angry and fear for our democracy as an authoritarian regime rolls forward like a tank. I can sincerely say that it’s felt very heavy this week.

I know there will always be differences in how we see the same painting or hear the same song. There will always be simple (or complex) differences in how we see the world and the best ways to do government. But the truth is the leader of the most militarily armed country on earth has not once but repeatedly threatened the genocide of an entire ancient civilization. This is not a difference of opinion. This is a war crime. It is also true this same leader often communicates, in the middle of the night, to heads of other countries about consequential matters of state in floods of unhinged social media posts and then post images of himself as Jesus, the Pope or wearing a King’s crown. This is not a difference of opinion. This is dangerous and unstable behavior. The truth is that people I love and respect support the cruelty and ravings of this man—and because I know they are such good people, I’m sincerely not sure where to place that in my heart.

And so I share this with you today, because I imagine there are days when you are also doing your very best to stay grounded in these strange and hard times.

I share it because this is when truth-telling is a great responsibility.

I share it because this is when strengthening the lines of community and connection are absolutely vital.

I share this because I do not want to be numb or disconnected from my joy or my sorrow.

I share this because the good news of the heart needs to be as daily and faithfully transmitted as the hard news of the world.

Last evening I went for a long walk in the woods with my dogs. I kept taking deep breaths. I let a few tears roll for all who are innocent, vulnerable and suffering in this world, allowing myself to feel the brokenness of the world and the beauty of the world.

It was then I reached a place on the path, bathed in soft light filtering through the spring green leaves. I stopped for a moment and did this short meditation for connection, courage and calm. It is a meditation I do occasionally. It helped greatly that day. I hope it helps you too.

1. I stood quietly and took relaxing deep breaths,

2. I tuned into my senses noticing the smell of the damp ground, the sound of the wood thrush and eastern towhee, the feel of the light breeze on my face and hands.

3. Then I turned my attention to the soles of my feet - after a moment I allowing my spirit to expand six inches into the earth below my shoes. After a moment or so, I let it expand a bit further, maybe 12 inches, then 3 feet, then 6 feet, then 12 feet.

4. Then I greeted the great interconnected roots systems of the trees. I let myself hear it greet me in return. I let my expanded spirit stay there awhile—grateful for that sense of being part of something larger than myself, something older and most certainly wiser.

5. Eventually I brought my spirit back to my feet, returning 6, then 3, then 1 feet, then six inches, until my spirit felt settled back in my body.

6. …and it was good.

This is when I would usually end this meditation. But last evening I added another piece.

1. I thought about my spirit expanding out in all directions, from my body and hands and head. I greeted the leaves and stones and moss and wild plants. I listened for them to greet me in return.

2. Then I reached out with my spirit to feel how I was connected to all the good things of this world—the people I love, the people I don’t know but sense their goodness in the ether as well. I reached out to the rivers and streams, to salt water and fresh, to deserts and forests, mountains and flat plains, to the sky and moon and stars. I greeted it all with love. I listened for it to greet me in return.

3. Then I allowed my spirit to sense and be connected to whatever is unending and sustaining, the sacred source of all things. I greeted all that Light with love. I listened for it to greet me in return.

4. I took a deep breath and brought my spirit little by little back into myself. I felt grateful for all the ways I am always connected to what matters, what is true and sustaining.

5. …and it was good.

As I continued my walk I felt better, my heart a little less heavy. These are hard times. That is the truth.

But we are not without resources, deep and strong connections, and the courage to keep loving this world.

Beloved, that is also the truth.

Practice

Try the practice above the next time you are outside. You don’t have to be in the deep woods - but being among trees or some place that contains natural things helps.

Question

What did this meditation on the truth- telling bring up for you? If you did the connection meditation, what happen, did you feel a bit more connected to what is good in the world?

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Music Always Music

This the song “Help In Hard Times” which appears on my album The Beautiful Not Yet. Note: I’m thinking about reissuing this album in LP format this fall.

One Inch Photos

I was not the only creature who recently passed that way in the woods.

Concerts and Retreats

I have just a few public concerts in the next months as I will be focusing on recording the new album. But one new free concert has been added and I will be doing a week long retreat with my brilliant friend and colleague, Helen Blier, at Ring Lake Ranch I’ll be back on the road in the fall and winter. You can check out my full calendar at www.carrienewcomer.com/tour

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Reminder for folks, in May I offer my bi-annual 30% off forever on new subscriptions! I know a supporting subscription is not for everyone, so there will always be free content here at A Gathering of Spirits. But a deep bow of gratitude to all the supporting subscribers. You make this creative endeavor possible.

Get 30% off forever

Gift Subscriptions In May I’m also offering a 35% for one year Gift Subscriptions. So if there is someone you would love to give a springtime - just because - gift subscription here’s the link.

Get 35% off for 1 year

Hi Folks, I’m on a family trip at the moment…but I wanted to let you know I was spending time with people I love near beautiful water and recharging my batteries before my last spring shows and then back into the studio with some of my favorite musical colleagues on the planet.

For those who are supporting subscribers, alongside my regular content I will be posting a “Studio Journal” with behind the songs photos, thoughts, music other fun things. I’m so excited to share the creative process with you! Throughout the past couple years I’ve loved sharing demos of new songs —right out of the notebook. I’ve deeply appreciated your comments and insightful thoughts about what was emerging creatively. Some of those demoed songs will be recorded in June!

Reminder for folks, in May I offer my bi-annual 30% off forever on new subscriptions! I know a supporting subscription is not for everyone, so there will always be free content here at A Gathering of Spirits. But a deep bow of gratitude to all the supporting subscribers. You make this creative endeavor possible.

Get 30% off forever

Gift Subscriptions In May I’m also offering a 35% for one year Gift Subscriptions. So if there is someone you would love to give a springtime - just because - gift subscription here’s the link.

Get 35% off for 1 year

Now onto the post…..

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A Little More Softness in Hard Times

“All of us, at some time or other, need help. Whether we’re giving or receiving help, each one of us has something valuable to bring to this world. That’s one of the things that connects us as neighbors—in our own way, each one of us is a giver and a receiver.” - Mr. Rogers

I’ve been having some wonderful conversations with my friend Helen Blier about the concept of neighborliness as we prepare for a retreat we’ll be doing later this summer at Ring Lake Ranch. Helen lived for many years in Pittsburgh—residing physically and metaphorically in Mr. Rogers’ neighborhood. Both of us have been sensing within ourselves and the people around us a deep longing to regain and reimagine what it means to be in relationship and in connected community. Mr. Rogers encouraged us all to be stronger by being softer, a better neighbor by noticing and being kinder (even to ourselves). This is sound wisdom of the deepest form that is encouraged in every spiritual tradition.

I do wonder sometimes what Mr. Rogers would have to say in these troubled times. I’m sure it would be helpful and most likely grounded in doable, human size and yet transcendent love. I’m pretty sure he would have something to say about the impact of the language we use, and the importance of acknowledging our own feelings and the feelings of others. I think he’d be a fiercely loving advocate for how children are faring in this uncertain world and call on all of us to care for the most vulnerable. Maybe he’d speak to the harmfulness (and perhaps spiritual bereftness) of intentional lying and bullying. I imagine he would say that we each contain an inner light wisdom within us, and it is safe to listen to our hearts and lean into our better selves —and that kindness and love will not lead us astray.

Really people, Mr Rogers had it going on—he knew that nurturing children and engaging in good neighborliness wasn’t just a nice idea, it was foundational thinking and I believe very good theology.

I don’t know how to change the whole world, but I do know I can have tremendous impact in how I choose to live my daily life, in how I choose to be in relationship with my neighbors. In these uncertain times, I don’t know how to fix all the things that are broken. But I do know how to mend a tear, reweave a frayed edge, and be a good and generally kind neighbor.

So this week, let us all tap into our own “inner Mr. Rogers”. Let us listen to our hearts and lean into what is stronger, softer and kinder. Let’s start from there.

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Question

What does being a “good neighbor” mean to you? Do you have a favorite Mr. Rogers quote or story?

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Music Always Music

If you did not see the Lady Gaga ad that ran during the Super Bowl this year, she did a beautiful version of “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” by Mr. Rogers. In this version you can hear just how much we are all longing for the kind of wisdom Mr. Rogers, and to reclaim our sense of connection, community and neighborliness.

May Semi-Annual 30% Off Forever on NEW Supporting Subscriptions

Twice a year I do a Semi-Annual 30% Off Forever Subscription Sale for NEW Annual subscribers. Here’s the LINK.

So in a nutshell, YOU make this possible.

So all that said, I thank those of you who read and share A Gathering of Spirits as free subscribers—because this is a totally beautiful way to help welcome more voices into the conversations here.

AND I want to give a deep bow of gratitude to all who support what I am doing and this online community by your presence as a Supporting Subscriber, and help make it possible through your weekly or annual subscriptions.

Get 30% off forever

Concerts and Retreats

I have just a few public concerts in the next months as I will be focusing on recording the new album. But one new free concert has been added and I will be doing a week long retreat with my brilliant friend and colleague, Helen Blier, at Ring Lake Ranch (think of Ring Lake as a theological dude ranch - yes, it’s a thing.). I’ll be back on the road in the fall and winter. You can check out my full calendar at www.carrienewcomer.com/tour

One Inch Photos

Squirrel feet are utterly amazing…

Dear Friends,

Twice a year I do a Semi-Annual 30% off Forever Subscription Sale for NEW Annual subscribers. Here’s the LINK.

I know that a paid subscription is not for everyone, and so there will always be free content here at A Gathering of Spirits. I’m grateful and welcome all subscribers (paid or free). That said, A Gathering of Spirits is completely reader supported and works a bit like NPR in that about 10% of readers choose to support and make this creative endeavor and online community possible.

With the advent of streaming, it has become harder for independent musicians to continue sustainable careers in the work they love. Most of us cannot tour more than we already tour to make up the difference. Also because AI music is still not regulated with artists in mind, even streaming is beginning to feel the effects as greater portions go to undisclosed AI/non-human entities.

A Gathering of Spirits is an unusual Substack in that I write prose, poetry AND songs (often with a progressively spiritual thread) —but my main “gig” is still music. I’ve absolutely loved being able to combine these art forms in my bi-weekly columns and create with you a safe, thoughtful, online community for conversations about living with meaning, compassion and presence in these beautiful, bewildering, broken times. I deeply appreciate this community and always moved by the collective wisdom represented and kindness and decency you offer one another.

I deeply enjoy creating and maintaining this Substack presence. It takes a great deal creative and professional time, thought and of course—a whole lotta love!

So in a nutshell, YOU make this possible.

So all that said, I thank those of you who read and share A Gathering of Spirits as free subscribers—because this is a totally beautiful way to help welcome more voices into the conversations here.

AND I want to give a deep bow of gratitude to all who support what I am doing and this online community by your presence as a Supporting Subscriber, and help make it possible through your weekly or annual subscriptions.

Get 30% off forever

Briefly—Why The Substack Model

A lot of readers don’t know that Substack is different than Facebook or other Social Media. Even though Facebook, Instagram, Tic Tok present themselves as “free”, these companies make their money through sending you ads and tracking your movements so as to sell your information. My Substack posts go directly to you because you’ve indicated you would like to receive them and you can stop them at anytime. You will not receive strange ads or toxic content you did not ask to receive or have your information sold to third parties. Facebook and other social media “throttles” authors & artists, only dribbling out our posts to a few readers in completely non-transparent ways. Artists on these social media sites are being asked to pay increasingly more and more to just get their posts to those who follow their pages. So even if you “Follow” an artist on Facebook, its pretty random if you’ll actually get their posts.

Substack stays afloat by a sharing a super reasonable % of subscription funds. They created a new model as a way to honor the life-work of the artist and the privacy of the reader. It is not perfect of course, but currently it has become the home for many working artists, writers, poets and journalists because of its greater respect for artists and readers.

Warmly,

Carrie

any circumstance 
trifling or harsh 
attended with care 
and a curious tone of thought 
may change the cry of being 
to a song. 

Maria Popova - Poet/Author of The Marginalian  from “100 Divinations for Uncertain Days”

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