The night I was wheeled into the hospital room after my mastectomy was the only snowy eve that winter. My neighbour in the bed next to me kept incanting the names of the nuns she knew from St. Ann’s. I recognized the name of one of them as she is a reiki master a dear friend had studied with. I spent that night drifting in and out of sleep, the names of the nuns swirling about the room like the snowflakes drifting outside. I was later to meet Sister Eileen and had the great honour of going to her home for a healing. I told her the story of how she was with me that winter’s night. 

This has been a tricky time of year for me, even before my mastectomy. I lost my Dad on Christmas Eve at home, in front of the tree. It was not unexpected, other than we thought we had more time. We listened to one of his favourite artists, Loreena McKennitt, as he made his transition from this world. 

Dad was my biggest musical supporter. I think he desired a musical career for me more than I wanted it myself. After he passed I buckled down and wrote The Whiplash Curve, determined to make something of my music. 

I’ll always be proud of what we achieved with that recording, but touring and hustling and finding an audience for it was not to be, as I was diagnosed with cancer, just like my Dad, soon after its release. Once I got through the months of gruelling treatment I set to work resurrecting my project and conceived of re-launching with a video for Oh My Heart. I had something to reveal in this video. A scar that let the light in. 

We filmed some of the scenes in a dance studio located in a beautiful old church. To sit around half-naked in a spiritual place with about 20 crew and volunteers while my mastectomy scar was painted in gold leaf took some courage! I’ve never been that much of an exhibitionist. This was my moment of acceptance of my post-surgical body. 

I find I’m thinking about these things a lot lately because life and music are so cyclical. I’m singing with a choral group called Ensemble Laude these days. It’s an amazing repertoire of medieval, Nordic and contemporary Canadian works. And wouldn’t you know it, our big winter concert is taking place in the very church where I had my moment of acceptance. The place is incredibly dear to me now. We’ve had a couple of rehearsals there over the last week. Every time I step through the doors I am filled with heartfelt thanks… to still be alive, to have learned a lesson in kindness towards myself, to be singing such profound music of utter beauty which my Dad would have loved, but be singing it without needing to prove something to him. Singing in Latin, these pure-voiced songs of Ursuline nuns, feels like a fitting devotional to honour a certain Sister who will be in the audience as I raise my voice up with Ensemble Laude in deep gratitude.

More info about our concerts in Victoria, BC on Dec 16th and 17th can be found here: www.ensemblelaude.org.

Wishing you peace and contentment this holiday season. Ever in the light...

xoxox,

K

By now I’m sure every music lover has heard the news. Leonard Cohen died yesterday. I once had a bio that had the words “Leonard Cohen better live forever”, but despite my attachment to this elder statesman of song, I’m having a hard time conjuring tears at his passing. Tears seem to come to me out of frustration or fear these days. Maybe I’ve lost too many loved ones, and too many fellow cancer fighters. Maybe the well is just too dry in 2016 – the year of lost idols. Grief is now a heavy, hollow thing and strangely dry given a watery nature.

Or maybe it’s something else? Maybe I’m holding on tightly to the idea of death being another beginning. I’m in a state of unsettled unknowing that’s more consuming than the sadness I feel. And besides… Leonard Cohen’s passing is not a tragic or unexpected loss. He knew, he gave us warning, he kept creating for us up until the end. 



When I was 17 a bought a rather large sailboat on a romantic whim. I had the means due to an inheritance that felt like it came out of nowhere, and I had this idea in my mind that I wanted to be a sort of ‘Suzanne’. “She feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China”, was me in my little galley with my floating propane stove, my copper kettle and my Blue Willow teapot making tea for any passing stranger who seemed interesting. 

I’ve been playing that song for years at gig after gig, closing my eyes and conjuring those days… not much aboard but my books, my guitar, my cat and my teapot. But does a songwriter really need much more? I, in fact, wrote an ode to Suzanne called Our Lady of the Harbour, imagining what she would say if she had a chance to reply to Leonard. 

Years ago I fell in love with a version of Hallelujah by an artist named Jeff Buckley. I was devastated when he died far too early in life after drowning in the Mississippi. And then, I battled a near drowning of my own. I couldn’t believe I made it out of that situation alive and was consumed by confusion as to why he drowned and I didn’t. A week later I sang a bride down the aisle to Hallelujah, this time trying not to cry out of gratitude and the beauty and mystery of it all. 

I’m so glad I got a chance to see Leonard Cohen in concert when he passed through Victoria a few years back. I had the sense then that it might be a last chance type situation. We couldn’t expect him to tour forever… and despite my demand in my bio, we couldn’t expect him to stay here with us forever either. 

I admit I’ve been avoidant of his latest release. I’m not ready for the final words. I know they will be there waiting when I’m ready. You Want It Darker. I don’t, I really don’t. Not right now. I hope you are basking in a brilliant, eternal light. 

Rest in peace, Leonard Cohen. 

Xoxox,

K

Hello from soggy Vancouver Island, Lovelies!

It may be wet and blustery outside, but it's cozy here at the desk my grandfather built with Amos the cat snuggled beside me.



I came across a quote the other day... "Being happy at home is the ultimate result of all ambition." Well, since I wrote my that post a couple of weeks ago about relinquishing some of my ambitions, I've been feeling much happier at home. Maybe all I've been determined to find 'out there' is already here.

And creative ideas are starting to flow once again!

I guess there are just times you have to stick by your inner voice and do the thing, even that thing is the opposite to what you're conditioned to do. I'd love to hear your stories about how you've pulled the plug on something that felt wrong in your life. Did you feel liberated? How has it worked out for you? What's making you happy at home this Autumn?

Sending you much love,

Kristia

 

To butcher a lyric by Leonard Cohen, I’ve been working in the places I used to play. 

I’m turning 40 in a few days, and after a rough week on the music biz front, I realize I am done. Not done with music, mind you. I’m finished with being a professional. Where does that leave me? I can’t become an amateur after all these years of dedication to my music. The idea of it ‘just being a hobby’ doesn’t sit right, either. So I’ve decided to pursue music as an ‘unprofessional’. 

I’ve got another career outside music that is so much easier on the soul. I use a lot of the same skills in that career that I use in my music career. Marketing, video production, recording, graphic design, social media strategies. And you know what? I’m valued and compensated for my time. 

As an independent artist, I’ve done all these tasks and more… I probably spend 10% of my music-related time on the music, and the rest is on this weird loop of digital hustle. The numbers just don’t add up. I’m spending all this time and energy and money to convince an over-saturated market to buy a $0.99 download.
 
Seems a little silly, to reflect on it. 

But as a musician who has taken my career seriously, I wanted to be seen as professional. I wanted to present myself correctly so that I could find my ‘target market’ in the digital world. I’ve gone to conferences, taken courses, and attended webinars. I read articles daily and I followed systems and strategies to the best of my abilities.
 
But none of this is the magic. None of this is moving. None of this connects me to source energy and transports me to feeling like I’m one will all of humanity. Sounds a bit woo, I know… but when I hit certain notes, even if I’m singing to a couple of people, I feel all of that. And I feel CONNECTED. That is something I never feel when I’m promoting myself online. 

Life is short and I’ve brushed up against my mortality too many times in my 30s. I’m starting off this next decade by accepting the fact that deep-down, I do not want to be a commercial artist. I’m going to make music still…  make no mistake, but I’m no longer going to pretend that distractions like Twitter are in any way integral to what I create. (I left the Twitter-sphere today! I'm feeling such freedom from that!)



It is autumn now… and like the leaves, the unimportant is falling away. It's such a beautiful season for turning inward and reflecting on what gives our lives meaning.

Xoxox,

K