Getting My Groove Back - Pape Station

It's Tuesday afternoon, smack dab in the middle of the February blahs.

I promised myself--okay, I promised my friend Brenda--that I'd get out to the subway today.

Yeah, yeah, I promised, but not before after I grumblingly itemized the million things I have to do (design flyer for April 2nd concert, write overdue press release for local theatre group, plan set list for this weekend's house concert, reserve spot for summer camp program as per request from daughter's friend's mother, establish career that actually makes money...) and not before I noted that it's still actually cold out there for heaven's sake, and maybe I'd like to just sit down for a few minutes and have a cup of tea?!

Brenda said I should get out anyway.

So, after I took Calla back to school after lunch, I packed my orange subway knapsack, figuring that I'd be able to sing for barely an hour before having to get back and take the kids to a dentist's appointment after school.

Did I mention that cup of tea?

I left the house, navigating the lake of melting snow that has taken over our backyard, balancing carefully along the two-by-four we've positioned over the largest puddle so we can get to the car. Someday maybe we'll get our backyard properly landscaped. (Did I mention that money-making career?)

Having successfully made it to the car, I discovered that my husband had left the lights on this morning, so the battery was dead.

Now, this could have been my cue to go back inside, call it a day, and make that cup of tea. Or, heck, have a glass of wine!

But there was Brenda to think of. Brenda, the indefatigable aerobics instructor. Brenda, who inspired my song When I Walk I Run . Brenda, who...oh, never mind.

I slammed the car door shut, hoisted up the backpack (with the 10 lb amp inside) and started walking.

And, indeed, soon I was also running--to catch the Pape bus.

Needless to say, I was relieved to see that my favourite spot--the narrowest, humblest rectangle in the whole subway system--was unoccupied. I set up quickly and started to play, figuring I'd grudgingly put in an hour and be able to say I did.

And then a funny thing happened.

I started to feel better.

I forgot about all the other things I have to do. I forgot how tired I've been feeling lately.

Last night I skipped my regular open mic, feeling as I was about as un-Groovy as I could possibly feel.

But this afternoon, I started to feel groovish after the first few bars of my first song, when the first donation came.

It was calming and freeing to sing for the man who was reading a manuscript on the bench when I arrived, and who lingered for three more songs after he was done. It was fun to run into old friends and try out new songs.

It was good to open the guitar case and invite assistance. It was good to say "thanks".

An hour later, after I'd earned a record $62.89 (two CDs there, and yes, this is proving to be a much better distribution model than any online or retail outlet) I felt positively...positive!

For the first time in about a week, I wasn't feeling sorry for myself.

+++

So, what needed to be done to get out of the trenches?

First, show up. Second, give something. Third, accept support.

And let's not forget the balancing act with the two-by-four over the icy lake (note to self, learn "Bridge Over Troubled Water"). And that brisk walk and run.