Sitting down to write has been a challenge lately, even for something as mundane as an old-school-blog-style album roundup. Shoot, even gathering the focus to listen to a full album was tough. That’s March for you!

But we did it, we got through the long cold winter. Daffodils are blooming and the trees are budding and it’s still off and on chilly where I am but we’re going to be okay. 🌷

I don’t have a great preamble, so here’s a few albums that got me through that last month of winter slog. We’ll get back on track in a few weeks. I’m kind of in a music slump right now, so if you have some spring dopamine albums to recommend, I would love to hear about them in the comments!

Leave a comment

Mumford & Sons - Prizefighter

Sounds Like: The banjo-y folky Mumford we loved in 2012, but make it a little bit wiser and little more weathered.

First Impressions: I didn’t connect with this right away when it released in February, because I guess the last few records have been a little hit or miss for me. But then with more time I realized it was actually a record that had to grow on me. The sounds are nostalgic, but the songs themselves feel grown up, lived in, and true in a different way. (You don’t have to be a parent for “Conversation with My Son” to hit you in the feels.)

Discovery Source: I’m a millennial folk girlie that had Sigh No More and Babel on repeat in my Honda Civic’s CD player, so…

Marie Druelsselhuis - A Little Quiet at First

Sounds Like: Wistful, gentle, sad girl piano songs for a rainy spring day (a compliment!)

First Impressions: Sometimes you just need a little singer songwriter folk for company while you work. Marie is a classically trained pianist, which shows up in her music for sure. And these are gentle songs about the emotions and experiences of growing up. Reminds me of artists like Jensen McRae and Lizzy McAlpine. I am here for this new generation of young women songwriters!

Discovery Source: Chris sent me her song “January" and I kept going from there.

Khruangbin - A La Sala

Sounds Like: Groovy 70s psychedelic funk and sun-drenched vibes

First Impressions: This was one of those artists I wasn’t super familiar with, but Chris was playing this album in the background a bit at home until it felt easy and familiar. I wasn’t really deep listening, but one day I put it on while working and really enjoyed a closer listen! It’s a solid work from home album when you need just a little bit of energy to get through the day.

Discovery Source: Also Chris. And we found it on vinyl at the Providence Flea!

Side Notes

ELITE EASTERTIDE MUSIC!

Listen, times are really heavy, and this winter into Lent into spring left me feeling pretty emotionally drained. (One day I abruptly asked Chris, “lol do I seem extra depressed lately?”) I think this might have something to do with the general struggle to sit down and put any kind of writing together.

On Easter morning, I was heading to an early church service and needed something hopeful to listen to, and I remembered that John Mark McMillan’s 2020 album Peopled with Dreams is an elite Easter record for weirdo mystics. I think a lot of his music hits especially well this time of year, but I remembered listening to these joyful songs with their weird lyrics and funky R&B sounds in the early days of the Covid pandemic.

My liturgical friends that like to party will point out that it’s still Eastertide til sometime in June, so it’s not too late to re-discover this gem. It sounds like defiant joy, and who couldn’t use that right now?

Some other great Eastertide albums: underrated hidden gem Death in Reverse by Jeremy Casella and, of course, Andrew Peterson’s much beloved Resurrection Letters Vol 1 and Vol 2.

SWITCHFOOT CONTINUES TO HELP ME COPE!

I have unironically loved Switchfoot since I saw them play a sweaty outdoor festival at Busch Gardens in Tampa sometime around 1998. Most of the CCM stuff I loved in high school, er… doesn’t hold up, but now that I’m in my middle age, “Company Car” makes a new kind of sense, and Nothing is Sound continues to be unfortunately relevant.

Their last few albums have been pretty hit or miss, but this new single “Wake Up, Mr. Crow”? I am seated, as the kids say.

February was a lot! This is not a poetic post!

I’m still working out how to rename and shift direction on my Substack, but hey, at least this music series I promised you gives me a monthly writing appointment!

Welcome to the February 2026 edition of Listening Notes: 4ish new or new to me albums1 that I enjoyed enough to listen to more than once, plus a couple of bonus thoughts about music-themed cultural events from February. Let’s get to it.

John Van Deusen - As Long As I Am in the Tent of This Body I Will Make a Joyful Noise Pt. 1

Sounds Like: Indie rock devotions and psalms for sad artsy bois (this is a compliment)

First Impressions: Sometimes, in the depths of winter blues and a cynical grumpiness I am not proud of, I think I’m done with listening to any album labeled as “worship music.” Then the exceptions come along, and I am reminded of the wild creativity happening on the genre’s edges.

I’m already breaking the rule of Listening Notes because I think I’ve only gotten through this 18 track journey once front to back, but it’s too dense, strange, and lovingly crafted to not get a mention. It feels like a cross between John Mark McMillan’s most freewheeling mystic rock and Jon Guerras’ most tender, intricate compositions. The liner notes on Bandcamp say this record was made out of intense devotion and deep depression, and I believe it. An intense listen I want to dig into some more.

Discovery Source: I’d heard a lot of buzz, but ’s personal album of the year endorsement nudged me to finally put in the time and listen!

Colony House - 77 Part 1 and 2

Sounds Like: Windows down, radio loud, singing along with someone you love because life is hard and also a miracle

First Impressions: Colony House is an absolute delight. Sunny rock and roll that holds the beautiful tension between youthful joy and a grown up world weariness. I somehow missed part 1 last year, but corrected that oversight when part 2 came out. No extensive notes here. Just fun, uplifting rock songs about getting older and holding life close.

Discovery Source: Followed them since their debut, including some previous projects by the Chapman bros.

The Lone Bellow - What a Time to Be Alive

Sounds Like: Easy listening, folksy Nashville alt-country from another time in sparkly cowboy boots

First Impressions: Listening to The Lone Bellow always feels little like stepping into another era. They thrive in lush harmonies and twangy instrumentation, and their emotional chorus builds feel like levitating. The new record has an easy listening familiarity, and maybe that’s why it took me a minute to warm up to it. But on repeat listens I think I hear something different I can’t quite put my finger on, maybe a little more of a retro country sound. Anyway, love them, always worth a listen, and absolutely worth a live show if they come your way.

Discovery Source: Another artist I’ve followed forever! This was not a month for trying new things and that’s okay.

U2 - Days of Ash EP

Sounds Like: U2 tapping back into their classic punk rock political roots

First Impressions: Well, I didn’t have a U2 goes old-school EP on my 2026 bingo card, but I’m not mad about it. I put it on my headphones at work and felt the catharsis in “American Obituary” and “The Tears of Things.” It’s earnest and urgent and I’ve always loved that about them. Supplement with this episode of The Subtext podcast exploring the question “When Did U2 Get So Political?” (Spoiler: the answer is 1980)

Discovery Source: “U2 dropping a new EP called “Days of Ash” on Ash Wednesday?! Let’s gooooo.” — , texting me at work to share the good news

Side Notes

THE BENITO BOWL!

It is a known truth in our family that Jen doesn’t care about the Big Game, the NFL, or the commercials. And yet, Jen does love buffalo chicken dip and the halftime show. Doesn’t matter who it is, she will look it up on YouTube on Monday morning and fall into a hole rewatching her favorites.

This year, we already had the antenna hooked up for the Winter Olympics,2 so we turned on the broadcast to catch the Bad Bunny show people were pre-fighting about and… y’all. For a week straight, I couldn’t think about this without tearing up, imaging the families who might have been watching, scared to leave their homes because of ICE raids, and for 13 minutes feeling celebrated. If you missed it, give in to the joy.

CHARLI XCX GOING HARDER THAN SHE HAD TO FOR A MOVIE SOUNDTRACK!

Actually watching Wuthering Heights is not my personal journey, but I like pop music and Charli xcx is interesting! So I listened to Switched on Pop’s deep dive of the soundtrack3 then gave it a shot. Only one casual listen, so it didn’t make the Listening Notes cut, but “House” is the precise goth energy I associate with the book. I am also a sucker for the lush, dramatic (but also creepy) 80s vibes in “Chains of Love.” Stay weird, Charli!

For the first time in maybe a decade, we got over a foot of snow at my house. A week and a half has passed, but it’s still everywhere, piled up by the road, packed into the walking paths, towering and filthy in the corners of parking lots. One day I drove my dog around for an hour trying to find somewhere, anywhere that she could walk without getting stabbed in the paws with rock salt or buried to her neck. At a park near my house, I tested a patch of snow with my boot and stumbled in snow up to my knees.

Writing these days feels a lot like trudging through that kind of snow. The cold leaves aches in my body, and the news leaves aches in my heart.1 Writing about anything else feels empty at best, tone deaf at worst.

So when I feel blocked, I pay a visit to my past self. I dig up the archives of my old 2010s blog and remember what it was like to just put things out there and write on the Internet for the fun of it, for no reason but self-expression and telling people about cool stuff I’m into.2 Occasionally I see people on here call Substack a blog. Nothing’s really stopping us from bringing that energy back, right?

Here’s another thing that is happening: I am exploring music again. Conventional wisdom says your taste freezes sometime in your 30s, and I could feel that happening. I didn’t have a long commute to immerse myself in CDs burned from iTunes purchases. I wasn’t working in radio or writing for music websites. I wasn’t hopping over to the record shop on my lunch break or going to lots of shows or talking to friends about music.

And that’s just personal. That doesn’t even account for how the streaming revolution upended how we make and consume music, especially for indie artists, or the way discovery algorithms lock us into a neat profile and only introduce us to more of the same thing we already like.

So I’m curious, how does one discover new music in their 40s? For the past couple years, I’ve been figuring it out. One of my favorite ways will always and forever be good ol’ word of mouth — the year end list, the random substack, the paying attention to what people I know love.

As I dug back into the old blog archives, I found a series I wrote in 2012 called “Opening Notes.” Nothing fancy, just a roundup of a few albums I listened to that month with some first impressions and how I found them. I didn’t make it past April, but I kind of enjoyed the little time capsule of 2012 Jen’s iPod library.

This is a very longwinded way of saying in 2026 it might be fun to bring that back. Just with a little tweak to the name because I’m not sure why I called an end of the month round up “Opening Notes.”

Listening Notes is a (hopefully!) monthly column where I share 3-4 albums that delighted me, surprised me, and/or held my attention last month. The only rules are 1) it’s new or new to me, and 2) I have listened to the full album, start to finish, multiple times.

Also, let’s make it a group project! What were you listening to in January? Let me know in the comments. I favor indie/alternative, folk, and some well-crafted pop, but I’ll try almost anything at least once. :)

Leave a comment

Mon Rovîa - Bloodline

Sounds Like: A warm hug of Afro-Appalachian folk about the places that make us and the horrors and beauties of the world.

First Impressions: I’ve loosely followed Mon Rovîa since seeing him open for Gregory Alan Isakov a couple years ago. This full length record has an understated folk sound, but a deeper listen reveals a reflection on his identity as a Liberian child adopted and raised in America. There’s darkness, trauma, hope, joy, and freedom, and it deserves multiple close listens. But you can also have it on for a peaceful winter vibe if that’s what you need.

Discovery Source: Recommendation from my friend Amber. Listen to your friends!

Aaron Paris - LOTUSLAND

Sounds Like: A neo-classical score for a strange little solarpunk movie or something Ghibli adjacent

First Impressions: This was a whole work vibe last week. I don’t even know how to explain it because sometimes it feels like classical background music, then it’ll drop in some electronic flourishes or a glitchy turn of sound that delights a part of my brain. Short and unobtrusive enough you can put it on repeat while working, but spacious enough to lead down interesting new paths.

Discovery Source: A random Substack post in my Notes feed with winter music recommendations? The happiest accident. Like the feeling of hearing something weird in a record store and taking home your new favorite.

Paper Lady - Idle Fate

Sounds Like: Some alternate timeline where Taylor Swift fronted a grungy 90s dream rock band

First Impressions: I don’t know, it rocks and it’s fun and they’re from Boston and I really would love to know more about my localish music scenes. There’s that homemade indie band feeling, dreamy and melodic, with some great builds and intense moments. Past Jen would’ve loved this. (Also, the Geocities vibe of their website warms my elder millennial heart.)

Discovery Source: , a Substack that feels like it was made in a lab for this weird time of my life.

Radiohead - Hail to the Thief

Sounds Like: Radiohead found their guitars again and raged against the machine

First Impressions: I could write a whole essay about how I committed to liking Radiohead so I could be a Cool Music Guy™️. But I actually did come to love some of their albums and still think they’re interesting! Somehow, I missed this during my deep dive. I’ve been feeling a renewed interest in early-aughts political protest music lately,3 so now is just as good a time as any to check out an album that starts with “2+2=5.” Probably a mid-tier for me, but a fascinating transition from the cold electronics of Kid A/Amnesiac to one of my longtime faves, In Rainbows.

Discovery Source: My deep well of angst and a gap in my listening history

And a Bonus: Live Music This Month

January 29 at the Providence Performing Arts Center

I don’t have blurry concert photos for you, but wow, did I need to go hear some live music. January was a long, cold, emotional month. But sitting in this old theater, listening to simple folk music harmonize with the intricate beauty of an orchestra healed a little something in me.

Happy New Year! 2026 still doesn’t sound like a real year, yet here we are. After a solid week of post-Christmas hibernation, a friend came over to ring in the new year watching the Stranger Things finale and drinking mocktails. We woke up to a fresh coat of snow.

I suppose this has always been the vibe, but more than ever I just don’t have interest in setting a bunch of goals to crush the new year.1 But I do love this slow space to look back on the old year and say goodbye. Sharing a few notes here is one little practice that helps me name the good things and look ahead.

Let’s get to the annual wrap up post, shall we?2 Notes on what worked and, of course, my favorite books, film, TV, and music of the year. It’s a long one, so if you’re reading this in your email it might cut off. Click over to the website for the whole thing.

What worked for me in 2025:

1. Saying yes to travel for milestone birthdays and hanging out with people IRL! I visited my sister in Florida and my pal Ashley in NC, then went to Nashville this fall for my 11th (!) in-person Hutchmoot. It was… a lot of flying for me. (Favorite airport? Providence forever. Airport I hope to never visit again? Reagan in DC, good Lord that was stressful.)

2. This underseat carry on bag I found at TJ Maxx after my old beloved suitcase broke. So roomy! Also, bringing the Kindle instead of a book for inflight reading. Southwest charges for checked bags now and I am resisting.

3. Repainting our apartment with lots of color! One experimental accent wall turned into to redoing half the rooms, and now we’ve got inky blue, meadowy spring green, oceanic blue green, and earthy burnt orange where neutrals used to be. It’s amazing.

   

4. Deleting endless scroll apps for the summer and hosting Summer Art Club here. This is not yet another Substack post telling you to get off social media. This is just me saying hey, this year felt existentially chaotic, and sometimes it feels good to slow down the input.

5. Learning to play Wanderhome and joining a recurring campaign with creative friends. (Think D&D but we are all woodland animals and there is no violence or math.)

6. Baking bread, now that I know it’s actually not the hardest thing in the world. I’ve been using the NYT Cooking no-knead recipe with good results.3

Some Favorites of the Year

(in no particular order)

Books: Turns out this year I was leaning toward novels of the lighter, fluffier, or funnier variety. I did read Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow last winter, which I mostly enjoyed. But really this year belonged to books like:

• Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson: Found a used copy on my trip to Florida and this was an absolute delight. Loved the whimsy and the feeling of being part of a bigger world without being a series.

• Zero Stars, Do Not Recommend by M.J. Wassmer: A guy goes on vacation and the sun explodes, leading to the breakdown of order at a tropical resort. But it’s way funnier and weirder than that.

• Record of a Spaceborn Few by Becky Chambers: A story about community and home, about who leaves and who stays. Cozy sci-fi doesn’t seem quite right because hard and terrible things happen in her worlds… maybe empathetic sci-fi is perfect.

• The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst: Normally, calling something a “Hallmark rom-com fantasy” wouldn’t grab me, but did I mention 2025 was chaotic out there? 😅 Just a really sweet little found family fantasy story, with a sprinkle of romance.

• Gideon the Ninth / Harrow the Ninth by Tasmyn Muir: A fantasy reading friend recommended it to me so many times I decided to give it a shot. According to my reading journal notes: “absolutely bonkers gothic memelord horror science fantasy. I have no idea what I just read and book 2 is on hold.” It’s gross and strange and funny and goth as heck and so, so disorienting. I can’t explain it and I’m reading book 3 soon.4

• Draco Malfoy and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being in Love: Thanks to The Popcast, YES I READ A DRAMIONE FANFIC AND HAD A GOOD TIME. (It is spicy, you have been duly warned, please mind the tags and author notes.)

• Also read and enjoyed: Gilded and Cursed by Melissa Meyer, the rest of the first Mistborn trilogy, Divine Rivals and Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross, and another re-read of The Lord of the Rings, in which I realized just how many iconic lines are from the movies and not the book.

Once again, I barely read any non-fiction, but here are a couple recs anyway:

• I’ve Got Questions by Erin H. Moon: Many years ago, when I felt like my faith was coming apart, I found a good companion for the journey in Rachel Held Evans’ debut. I’d love to think that I’ve Got Questions could be that book for lots of people now — gentle, funny, compassionate company when you’re on a rocky spiritual journey.5

• The Showings by Julian of Norwich, translated by Mirabai Starr: Hanging out with my fave medieval mystic again. Second read, new translation to me. I really love it when a contemporary spiritual translator can breathe fresh life into old texts. I’m still slowly savoring this one, with The Drawing of this Love by Robert Fruehwirth as a companion read.

Films: If I make any resolution for 2026, maybe it’ll be related to watching more movies? I dunno. But here are some I’m still thinking about:

• Wake Up Dead Man: A new Knives Out whodunnit is always a good time, but wow, there’s so much to chew on here. There’s still comedy in skewering the ridiculous ensemble cast of suspects, but the centering the story on Fr. Jud gives the film a compassionate, complicated heart.

• Superman: I’ve never quite been able to get into Superman movies, but maybe it’s because most the reboots of my generation have been dark, moody and gritty? James Gunn’s new version is so full of life, color, humor, and kindness that I couldn’t help but love it.

• Hamnet: Gorgeous and devastating and powerful. I may never recover from that final scene.

• Frankenstein: A glorious adaptation. Visually stunning, true to the original vibe of the book, but a surprising and satisfying approach to the ending. (appreciation to my sister quietly whispering “nope” during the creature assembly scene lol)

• Kpop Demon Hunters: A highlight of the summer was getting Korean takeout and long distance watching this with my sister and texting commentary back and forth.

TV: I didn’t watch a lot of shows, but there were some standouts.

• Shrinking: I laughed so much and felt so much.

• Silo: The post-apocalyptic mystery thickens.

• Stranger Things 5: I have heard the grumblings about acting and plot holes, but I don’t care. The final episode wrapped the character arcs in such a satisfying way.

• Andor: Not the escapist goofy Star Wars we want, but the antifascist Star Wars political thriller we need.

Music: Okay, now we’re in the longest section, because this was a year of wide exploration for me. Some albums that stood out and are worth revisiting:

• Andy Squyres - Miracle Service & Sacred Vows: Two little EPs that can carry the weight of albums triple their length. Hype for part 3 to come out this year.

• Djo - The Crux: Friend rec! (Thanks Hannah!) I didn’t have Stranger Things Steve making one of my favorite records of the year on my bingo card but here we are.

• Bon Iver - SABLE, fABLE: Justin Vernon embraces joy and sheds the sad boy making weird music image and it’s wonderful.

• Tyson Motsenbocker - Modern Worries: Feels like a singer-songwriter album for all of us late 30s-40s people who are tired and over it. There’s a song on here called “I Don’t Want to be on the Internet Anymore,” so that’s the mood.

• AMXNRADIO - The Profound Foolishness Of~ : For anyone who kind of wants a take on modern worship that’s moody and ambient and weird.

• Jensen McRae - I Don’t Know How But They Found Me! A lyrically dense singer-songwriter pop breakup album for fans of Phoebe Bridgers and vintage Taylor Swift.

• Oklou - choke enough: Arty Y2K electronic vibes that I keep coming back to for the quiet nostalgia and cool sounds. (HT: New Bands for Old Heads, a Substack that sometimes helps me find new things when I’m stuck.)

Some honorable mentions: Jacob Collier’s spare yet intricate The Light For Days. Fielder’s self-titled folky duo debut. Hayley Williams’ sprawling and edgy Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party. Lady Gaga’s return to dance floor bangers in MAYHEM. Mumford & Sons’ return with Rushmere. Sam Fender’s People Watching to scratch the part of my brain that loves big rock n’ roll energy. And though I didn’t listen to the whole album much, there was a moment this summer when I was super into “Old Tape” by Lucius.

This year’s music log playlist is 4 and a half hours long, which is absolutely ridiculous. There’s pop and rock and electronic and folk and indie CCM and worship all in here. If you want to sift through the chaos, have at it and see if you find something you like.

I want to tell you about the movies I saw a little over a week ago, about crying in the final moments of Hamnet, about the unexpected beauty and grace in Wake Up Dead Man.1 I want to tell you how surreal life feels when your community has lived through a mass shooting,2 how strange it is to see maps of streets you’ve come to love and the city so many friends call home making international news. I want to find words for the anger and grief I feel when I see that, by some counts, this year is ending with almost 400 mass shootings in the United States.3 The case is closed, but it doesn’t feel like a relief, not yet. At the same time, I wish I could highlight all the ways people keep showing up for each other, not just first responders and law enforcement, but café owners and bus drivers too.

It’s a lot. And it’s all tangled up with the mad dash to the end of the year, with quiet snowfall and Christmas shopping, last minute details and getting a long overdue oil change.

///

There are just a handful of days left until Christmas, but I still wanted to share my Advent playlist for those of us who still need a little space.4 I’ve been tweaking it all through the season, and once the list came together, I found these songs a helpful companion in a particularly heavy season.

Last night, we had a few friends over for a winter solstice dinner, and toasted to a brighter tomorrow. May it be so. And may we take the time we need to catch up to the light. 🕯️

The bare bones of trees scrape against the sky
Heavy and cold, holding memories of snow
The sun disappears a little earlier each night
And I let out a breath, let my old self go

It’s heavy and cold, holding memories of snow
I can feel the year hurtling toward its end
And I let out a breath, let my old self go
I’m trying to see winter as a friend

I can feel the year hurtling toward its end
Another cycle of seasons in this one finite life
I’m trying to see winter as a friend
Patient and present as a midwife

Another cycle of seasons in this one finite life
Could I gather the gifts and walk into the dark
Patient and present as a midwife
Waiting to see what new life is born?

Could I gather the gifts and walk into the dark?
The sun disappears a little earlier each night
Waiting to see what new life is born
Where bare bones of the trees scrape against the sky

🖊️ (Belated) NovPAD Week 3 Update - 2 out of 7 days?

This is the annual point of NovPAD where things just sort of fizzle out thanks to Thanksgiving and work deadlines and generally losing momentum. It is what it is! But for Week 3’s Form Friday (cyclical forms) I finally tackled a pantoum.

It’ll need a little polish to feel done, but there’s something there. For those of us well north of the equator, November feels like hurtling headfirst into the long dark. Consider this a little poem of preparation.1

I already have a week 4 poem to share before the month is out! Here’s your annual reminder that NovPAD is not a contest. Whether you write 30 poems or 2, you did the thing! 🌟

Sure,
there are Dunkin cups
in the gutter, and the
light pollution blocks any
hope of seeing northern lights,
and the kitchen window view
is three houses, a bus yard,
and Golden Arches in the distance.

But imagine walking 
to a coffee shop 
or the grocery store 
or the mechanic 
when your battery dies
for the third time in a month,
and see what’s there at a
ground level, human pace.

Find a little free library 
on the side of a busy road
stuffed with bookmarks and novels.
Catch a world tour whiff 
of small takeout spots 
(Brazilian, Domincan, Korean),
spices and cultures and
deep fried something.
Hear a fleeting beat 
from an old car radio
playing reggaeton or hip-hop.
Pass the rundown houses
with tiny ground floor
hair salons and appliance shops.
Pause under the trees at a baseball field.
Notice the strange derelict beauty 
of wildflowers in an abandoned lot, 
and a scribble of graffiti to say
“I am here.”

🖊️ NovPAD Week 2 Update - 4 out of 7 days

This one was for the prompt “cities” and came from scraps of an abandoned essay I wrote the week I found myself walking home from the mechanic for the third time in a month.

I love to write a nature poem and, like I said last week, will drive a full half hour to take my dog for a walk somewhere outside the city, away from cars and noise. At the same time, cities have a beauty of their own, and a lot of interesting things to notice. So here’s a little love note to Fall River and city life in general.

This came out in a big long stream of consciousness brain dump, then I chopped off the opening and closing sections. I read it on a Poetry Pub Zoom call a couple nights ago, and when I said I was sad to cut the part about how I can kind of see a McDonald’s sign from my bathroom / kitchen window, said “oh no put that back or write another poem about it.” So the new first stanza is me returning some of the weird little images I was sad to cut. Thanks JJ!

It’s a little too cold for 
early November in the woods.
Oaks and elms already giving
up, already flaming out,
letting go. And everything
already feels heavy, but here
I can let go too. Suddenly
a lo-fi car radio cuts the
stillness with a 1992 hit:
“I won’t cry for yesterday…”

(Sing along if you know it.)
Later I’ll look up the video
and lyrics to write this poem,
wonder why they chose that hat
for a bride in white (of course,
it was the 90s, you know).
But the woods, the woods
The scattering bluejays, the
crunching of twigs, the radio —
there’s an ordinary world

out there. Terror and beauty,
the rage of weak strongmen,
the kindness of small talk.
Maybe I can step outside my head
long enough to feel the wind,
to be free, like my terrier
romping in the leaves, bowing
to a skittish spotted blue dog
she meets on the trail. I’m tired.
Somehow I have to find

a measure of peace, a laugh.
We are all travelers here,
all ordinary. We are bound
to each other, to the woods,
to the birds, to the dogs,
somehow yes, to Duran Duran,
in that space where a busy road
bumps against the wildness.
Now I can breathe easier.
I will learn to survive.

We’re a little over one week into November Poem a Day, and I think I just might feel those atrophied poetry muscles waking up again. In Week 1, I managed 4 out of 7 prompts, all a little bit decent start in their own way, but this one was the most fun in all its stream of consciousness.

Last week, I took Malika for a walk at a nearby wooded trail. Do I need to drive my dog 20-30 minutes every other day to get a good sniff walk when we have a perfectly okay neighborhood route? Probably not. Does it bring me joy to get out of the city for a bit and be under the trees, even if it’s just a pocket of nature preserve? Absolutely. (This is one of the gifts of working from home.)

Anyway. The thing is, sometimes these little nature pockets are right next to houses, and sometimes you are walking on the trail close to said houses and catch their music playing loud, and it feels so weirdly out of place, but you are supposed to be writing poems this month and the prompt is “found poetry,” and you whip out your notes app.

That’s it. That’s the story. I’ve wanted to try writing a glosa1 again for a while. I have one in my first book that uses lines from T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, from when I was a younger ✨intellectual✨ poet. Who knew a 1992 Duran Duran hit about grief would be my glosa breakthrough?

October has always been one of my favorite months. Yes, even before I lived in a place with apples/pumpkins/colorful leaves autumn, or before I leaned all the way into spooky season.

This year October looks like tromping through a Renaissance Faire with friends, a day trip to Walden Pond, lighting work candles on rainy days, and buying the fancy pumpkin spice coffee creamer because it’s cheaper than coffee out (but still getting coffee out anyway).

This year it also looked like traveling down to Nashville for my 13th Hutchmoot. Catching up with 20+ year friendships and starting new ones. Sitting in the silence of a pop up art gallery and skipping plenary sessions for long hallway conversations. Playing with art supplies and crying a little at hearing my favorite Rich Mullins song played live for the first time.

And then there’s the poetry open mics, a beloved Hutchmoot tradition for me now and always an honor to host.

Now November is on the way, which means Year Number I’ve Lost Count of attempting the November Poem a Day challenge! My friends at The Poetry Pub and I collaborated on a fresh list of prompts that I’m pretty excited about. Come write along if you want?

I’ve done this over a decade and have never hit all 30 prompts. So no promises for a flood of poems, but I’ll do my best and share my favorite drafts here along the way. Writing is a little more fun in community, so here’s a couple places you can join in:

• Still on Facebook? The Poetry Pub Writing Community is where it all began! Chris and I started this group back in 2018 just to write poems with a few friends, and now it’s one of the few things that compel me to keep my account open, ha. We’re accepting new members til the end of October, then we’ll disappear into the shadows as a private group to keep things safe and cozy. My pals and host virtual open mics from time to time, and we’ll have a daily NovPAD thread where you can share your poems!

• For the Facebook-avoidant among us, runs a spinoff Discord server called, adorably, Poetry Pints. Ashlyn will be running the challenge over there with the same prompts. Smaller, even cozier, and… it’s not Facebook! Here’s an invite link that will be open for the next 7 days. (If it doesn’t work DM me and I can send you a fresh link.)

It’s hard to be a person out here in the darker half of the year, but poetry helps. And friendship, and silliness, and homemade costumes, and letting yourself be a basic pumpkin spice girlie once in a while.

The year was 2005. I was a junior in college, and it felt like the world was both beckoning me to a wide open future and coming apart at the seams.

We may joke about the “dumpster fire” of recent years, but I feel like the fire sparked long ago. I just didn’t notice the smoke until the turn of the millennium.

I was finally old enough to vote in a Presidential election. Twitter and iPhones didn’t exist yet, but I was just starting to notice the ugliness of partisan politics. The wounds of 9/11 were fresh and raw, the War on Terror was just beginning, anyone with cable TV could pick their 24 hour news cycle poison, and I spent my days commuting between my small town bubble, my Christian radio job, and my university classes in Orlando.

Also, the certainty I used to feel in my faith was beginning to crack. Just a little.

If anything, I needed music to capture the vague despair and fear and anger in the air and spin it into hope. I needed Switchfoot, a band I’d casually enjoyed since high school, and a record called Nothing is Sound.

Of all the bands I loved in high school (the time of life that supposedly shapes your musical tastes forever), there’s something about this band that continues to stick.3 If you listen to their early work — especially 1998’s New Way to Be Human — you find some pretty philosophical songwriting under the carefree surf-rock sounds. Skip ahead twenty years to 2019’s Native Tongue, and you find relentless hope in a world that seems to be perpetually on fire.4

For me, Nothing is Sound might be their greatest achievement. It came just two short years after they broke big in the mainstream, but it was considered a commercial flop. Instead of peppy melodies and self-aware anthems, the sound took a darker tone and the lyrics dwelled on empty consumerism, disconnect, loneliness, and war. It’s Psalms and Ecclesiastes and Lamentations all at once. And somehow, in all that, it lands on hope in the end.

Permission to be angry. Permission to lament. Permission to, in spite of it all, not lose hope.

Just what a quiet, uncertain, and confused young woman in a lonely world needed.

I want more than my lonely nation

The album opens with dirty guitars and an introduction to an unnamed character: “she turns like the ocean / she tells no emotion… she’s been breaking up inside.” I’m only now realizing how 22 year old me, growing up and discovering the complicated ache of the world, might have recognized herself in this nameless “she.” The aggressive, dark-tinged rock hints toward a rage under the surface. The lyrics address a weary loneliness, frustration, and longing to see the world set right.

Two years before, this band declared “We want more than this world’s got to offer,” and it felt like a fist-pumping empowerment anthem. But here, the desire takes on a whole new urgency: “I want more than my desperation / I want more than my lonely nation.”

But how can the world be set right when the people tasked to care for it appear to tune out, chasing after empty pleasure?

We’re just numb and amused
We’re just used to bad news and
We are slaves of what we want

Or consider this line from from the lead single “Stars”

Stars looking at a planet
Watching entropy and pain
And maybe start to wonder how
the chaos in our lives can pass as sane.

Then there’s the Bob Dylan-inspired rumination “Happy is a Yuppie Word.” As the specter of war loomed large and the economic prosperity of previous decades came to an end, this song meditates on the failure of empires and empty consumerism, tapping into the well of full-on Ecclesiastical lament:

Everything fails
Everything runs its course
A time and a place
For all of this love and war
Everyone buys
Everyone’s got a price
But nothing is new
When will all the failures rise?

And so the story goes. “Nothing is new,” says the author of Ecclesiastes, and “Nothing is sound!” screams a rock band’s singer into the pain. Nothing is steady, “nothing is right-side right,” and when I hear these words, I’m once again sitting on the university quad, wondering about the future and the pain of war and the violence of words and talking heads on TV news.

And even now, nothing is new, is it? The second-by-second social media news cycle. The pundits escaping the boundaries of cable news and pontificating from my phone. Even Instagram squeezing pristine influencers and finely targeted ads between pictures of friends and their kids and their vacation photos.

I can’t help but think “Easier Than Love,” a song about commercializing sex to distract from loneliness, is an apt lament for the disconnection and perfectionism of the Instagram age: “It’s easier to fake and smile and brag… it’s harder to face our souls at night.”

More than ever, I understand the unbridled roar of a line like “I pledge allegiance to a country without borders, without politicians.”5

Nothing is new indeed.

But these scars will heal

If there’s one thing that has marked these songs for so long, it’s this: joy is inescapable. Somehow, even as they rail against the empty promises of a materialistic American Dream, there’s a hope that can’t be suppressed.

You hear it in the album’s most joyful track, “We Are One Tonight,” an anthem of solidarity that would almost feel out of place if it wasn’t such a necessary counterpoint “And the world is flawed / but these scars will heal,” the song declares against all odds.

Somehow, in the midst of fear and fighting and loneliness, healing waits. There’s still beauty, still sunlight limning the shadows, still friendship and love and waves to catch and songs to sing.

When I listened in my early-twenties angst, I might have overlooked the more joyful songs. When I listen today, I cling to them.

“Daisy,” the album’s closer, brings it all full circle. We began with a woman who is “breaking up inside,” and we end with a gentle invitation and an affirmation. I’d like to think these two characters are the same person:

Let it go,
Daisy, let it go
Open up your fist
This fallen world
Doesn’t hold your interest
It doesn’t own your soul…

We can’t escape this world. We can rage against injustice, interrogate our desires, sit in our loneliness, and keep our gluttony in check. We can choose to numb out and be just another consumer, or we can be fully alive in the world as it is.

If I had any quibble with these lines today, it would be that this fallen world does have my interest, as I imagine all it can be. It’s a promise and a shadow of the world to come… and well… “the shadow proves the sunshine,”6 doesn’t it?

But no, it doesn’t own my soul either. Sometimes I just need the songwriters and poets to remind me.

Read more

Read more

Quick housekeeping note: there’s a poll running on Discord now to set a date for our wrap up call later this month! Would love to have as many folks as possible join, so please be sure to go vote!

Read more

Read more

If you need a place to work through some of this in community, the Summer Art Club Discord is a great place to do that. I’ll drop the invite link again at the bottom of the post if you need it! Rooting for you. 💛

Read more

Mark your calendars for THIS Thursday, July 17th at 8pm ET. We’ll have a mid journey check in on Zoom, and I’d love for you to be there if you can! All the info is at the bottom of the post.

Read more

Read more

Subscribe now

Read more

Subscribe now

Read more