I’ve really slowed down in a lot of ways lately. Less writing, less music, less pressure to produce. The change in weather (sun) and time (spring) is making me feel a lot more balanced (less depressed) but I’m not sure if I’m really done wintering quite yet. I used to put out music at a predictable and abbreviated clip, but I’m feeling way less pressure (from within) to keep that pace up. A lot of ideas are germinating, and I’ve started a few collaborations, but speed of production is just really not top-of-mind lately.
What has been occupying my mind is the question of place; am I in the right one? Is the community of the Bay still a home or have I lost the plot a bit? Am I a musician or do I want to return to baking? Where is the best place to put my body to help others, invest in community, make a life, find a person? A lot of “if’s” and “where’s” are bouncing around my head lately. Is a community a community, of support and exploration, or a bubble/ a trap?
At the beginning of the year I mentioned wanting to dip my toes back into a long-standing project. I’m not sure if I’m quite ready to elucidate, but I will share with you one of the steps I’ve taken toward that leaky old pipe dream.
After being a baker for about 14 years, and pausing in the last few years to learn about other kinds of work, I finally hosted my own pop-up. I made sweets and a few savory snacks at a local wine bar on Valentine’s Day - and I fully expected to fail and have everyone hate everything I made. It’s so strange how even years of experience can feel like a costume or a lie; I’ve been trying to pick apart the imposter syndrome that follows me around like Eeyore’s tail. Of course, some of the things I made could have been better, and I learned a lot. But, in general, people just… had a nice sweet little time. It was Valentine’s, there were flowers, there was wine, and it just wasn’t… so serious. It makes me wonder why I really torture myself with doom fantasies so often.
I think that Neal Allen and Anne Lamott might suggest that the inner critic is there because, at one point (ancestral or just adolescent) it served a purpose; it protected me from some threat or warned me against potential disaster. But now, as a woman of 32 with at least a few more mental capacities than 22- or 12-year old me, that creature is really more of a joy-killer than it is any kind of guide. It is, however, an extremely adept negotiator.
It’s really hard for me to even set apart its voice or mannerisms, I’m so used to being accompanied by all of that doubt and worry. Maybe that’s the first battle to fight before deciding where to put my body or my dreams or my work ethic? I’m still working on that puzzle.
For now, I am really happy making nice things for people I care about, and honing the dream every day (I spend a lot of time on Pinterest).
A few other things worth note:
Joni Mitchell is back on spotify. Hallelujah, my playlists are relevant again.
I would like to start doing a bi-monthly or more regular post on Sundays, called CHURCH… it’s not about God… Are we intrigued? Are we curious?
I’m playing tonight in Berkeley if you happen to be around and want to come. <3 Thanks for reading all this.
xoxoMK
EDIT: apparently my link to the show didn't work hehe. Show is March 23 at Art House Gallery 2905 Shattuck Ave Berkeley, 7pm!
I've been a chef for decades, and I'm finally realizing that I'm pretty good. I have a lot to learn about baking however.