Watch Me Fly ~Then & Now

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When I first realized that I had the ability to transform my life, my emotions, and my perspective into songs, I was filled to the brim with joy.  I remember how free I felt.  Free and vulnerable.  Exposed.  It was like everything inside of my soul had finally found a way out and there was nothing weighing me down.

I wanted everyone to feel this joy I was feeling.  I had created lyrics and melody to some instrumental tracks a co-worker at the time had shared with me.  Taking what I had written into the studio and recording it took this joy to a new level.  Like a child showing you their artwork so full of pride and assurance that you will love it, I played these tracks I had recorded for everyone who would listen.  Most people had positive feedback, some were less enthusiastic than I was but still I felt encouraged to continue.  However there was one critique that stuck with me.  When I heard the following two sentences regarding my music everything shut down for a moment:

“Who are you going to market this music to?  White folks won’t get it and black folks will never accept you.”

Wow.  It caught me completely off guard.  I had never put a race or color to what was spilling out onto the paper.  It had never crossed my mind that what I was recording would be disregarded because it wasn’t “white enough” or “black enough”.  Marketing my emotions to a specific audience was foreign to me.   I was confused.  I was hurt.  And then I was mad and motivated to get above it.  So I did what I had learned would set this free and allow me to take back my power.  I put it on paper.  I sat down on my deck and wrote from start to finish, the piece that would eventually become “Watch Me Fly”.

That was the summer of 2003.

It stayed in my journal for several years.  It stayed there through my 5 years in the band Intuition which I co-founded.  It was still there when the band ended in 2008.  It didn’t come to life until after I started working with Maurice Carroll of Stinkiface Music that same year.  Even then I wasn’t sure I wanted to record it, but toward the end of a session with Maurice he asked me what song was next.  Reluctantly I sang my idea for the song to him.  I told him how it was supposed to feel and the emotion behind it.  He immediately started putting keys down, lengthening the original hook and adding sitar and a marching drum.  It fit.  It was dreamy and strange.  It was late and I was raspy when I recorded it but I remember it all clearly.

But now, Watch Me Fly was finally a real song and I was free from the sting of the words that inspired it years prior.  I took those words, let them hurt me, released that hurt on paper, and then set it free in the music.  It was mine now and instead of pain, I transformed it into something that would again bring me immense joy.

The song was released in the summer of 2009 as a single and then in September of that same year it was the title track of my EP when I signed as the first singer/songwriter with Stinkiface Music.

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Over the last 5 years this song has become my “title track”.  It’s my personal mantra and applies to many situations I encounter in life.  More importantly it has connected me with so many people who have reached out to me via email, social media, and in person to let me know that this is their song too…that they listen to it every day, it tells their story, it helped them rise above, and that I have written what they couldn’t express on their own.

Eleven years after being told that no one would get my music and I wouldn’t be accepted I received the best compliment of all.  Someone told me, “I listen to your music and I know that I’m not alone.”

This year I wanted to take “Watch Me Fly” to another level and possibly reach a new audience.

I handed this idea over to Baltimore house music producer/DJ N’Dinga Gaba.  After we had some success in the house music world with our song “Feeling Fine” in 2013, I knew he would be able to give it new life.  N’Dinga suggested we do a “Watch Me Fly” EP.

My connections to South Africa had grown immensely with the word of “Feeling Fine” getting around and my collaboration with N’Dinga who is originally from Central African Republic.  There is a distinct sound and style that is coming out of this part of the world.

Over a year ago, my Facebook friends from AudioArque Records, Troy & Trevor in South Africa had already remixed the song with a unique tribal approach in their “Jungle Soul Remix”.  They had truthfully remixed this for me “just because” and we weren’t sure how it would be released.  But once an EP was decided upon I knew this would be a part of the package and I had held on to their version until the time was right.

Deep Sentiments, also from South Africa, came along a little later when I had started talking on Facebook with Tshiamo from the group of producers.  They put a broken, laid back, sexy spin on their remix, “Deep Sentiments OPZ Vocal View Remix”.

Both the AudioArque and Deep Sentiments versions have the original vocal from the 2009 song.

I went back in the studio with my “Watch Me Fly” co-creator Maurice aka MoRece to put down a different vocal for his new version, a haunting remix with a different hook adding Iris Craig’s gorgeous voice on the harmonies.  Yet another vocal track was recorded for N’Dinga’s remix and he also brought in UK DJ/Producer D-Malice for his version of the song.

So here we are!!

Today, December 15, 2014,  N’Dinga’s newly launched label Global Diplomacy Productions is releasing my very first house EP “Janice B. Watch Me Fly ~ The Remixes” with contributions from N’Dinga and UK’s D-Malice, South Africa’s AudioArque Records and Deep Sentiments, and the original producer of the song, Maurice Carroll.  Check it out on Traxsource!

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No matter what version you prefer my wish is that the the song will continue to send a message of hope and empowerment to everyone it reaches.  No matter how well it does on the house music charts I can tell you that the amazing love and positive feedback I have received because of this song keeps my spirit at the top of the charts.  Every time I hear it in any version I am reminded that I can transcend anything that life throws my way.   With a song I have the power to keep rising.

Watch me…..

Janice B.

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The Yellow Bead

**Note..I wrote this blog a few years ago when my friend April Sims  asked me to do a guest blog for Black History Month.  I recently saw a news article that was giving statistics about what races were more likely to have friends outside of their own race and I felt a little sad that someone actually felt there was a need to research that.  It reminded me of this blog I had written and how adopting trans-racially has made me look at my world quite differently than I did before…even with a circle as colorful as mine was before my son came along. 

The Yellow Bead 

(Alex in his Korean Hanbok *photographer: Thomas Aaron)

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I sat with my paper cup in one hand and a pile of multicolored plastic beads in front of me waiting for the next statement.  The adoption class teacher said, “Most of the people in my church are…..?”.   I struggled with this because my church is very racially mixed.  But reluctantly I picked up a white bead and put it in the cup.  I had to admit that MOST of the people at my church are white.   I looked down in my cup at the white, black, and brown beads all mixed together in fairly equal numbers.  I was pretty happy seeing that I had such a colorful cup.   The key word of course is “MOST”.  I’m white.  So “MOST” of my relatives are white.   Question after question….”most” of my friends are…, coworkers are…, neighbors are…., etc.     But despite how diverse my circle is, there wasn’t one yellow bead in the cup.  The yellow bead would soon be my son.  He will be the only Korean relative, the only Korean neighbor, maybe the only Korean friend in his class.  I won’t see him as anything other than my beautiful child and my love for him transcends the color of our skin.  But I know the rest of the world isn’t always so loving.

This exercise opened my eyes to how my son would feel in my world and how I take my skin color for granted.  And that no matter how open minded I am, no matter how many brown and black beads I have in my cup, I’m still a part of the majority of the beads.   And quite honestly no matter how often I may be the only white person in the room, at the end of the day I can go to my parents’ house, go to my church, flip through a family photo album, and I will be surrounded by people who look like me.  I won’t be the only white bead.  My son will NEVER know what that feels like.

When April asked me to do a guest blog during Black History Month I thought of so many topics I could blog about but every one of them came back to race and how we view each other.   So many conversations I have overheard or unfortunately had to endure simply because the people talking assumed since my skin was the same color as theirs that I also would share or tolerate their ignorance.  Or in contrast since I am “down” with African Americans that the derogatory comments about white folks won’t offend me.  “You’re not really white Janice”.  I’m not?  I’ve heard white and black people speak of each other as if we are of a different breed.  As if we aren’t all humans.  Some of the things I have heard are pretty disturbing.  I don’t need to recount them all.  It’s disappointing.  I recently heard someone say, “Why do THEY need a whole month for Black History?”  I always cringe at the “us” and “them” mindset no matter who it’s coming from.  Sometimes I will speak up and defend the truth but let’s face it, sometimes you are just wasting your breath.  Some folks just got a whole cup full of white beads.  These folks probably don’t want to hear that the truth is until “THEY” have more than just a chapter or a mention in “YOUR” history book then there will always be a need for Black History Month.  I never really understood why history isn’t just history.  I’m not preaching or looking for approval…that’s just the truth.  And here’s a good one….since the human species originates from Africa then we are all related, right?  It’s OUR history, right?  (I’ve learned that some folks with all white beads (and some with all black beads) really hate that little factoid.)  But hate it or not that is a fact.  I shouldn’t even have to explain that.  That should be common knowledge.

I am a child of the 70s.  I remember growing up with the very cocky notion that we might be the ones to make a change in the world when it comes to race relations.  We might be the ones who will look at each other and see how much we are alike and not just how different we look, yet still be able to celebrate who we are.  After all, there we were sitting next to each other learning.  There we were going to dances and proms together, playing sports together on the same team, riding the bus together, graduating together.  We saw adults dividing themselves and we laughed at how narrow minded they were.

But now I’m an adult and we work together, shop together, worship together, create together, LIVE together.  And 30 something years later despite all the black and brown beads in my cup we still have so much to work on.  We still aren’t looking at each other and seeing the similarities.    I’m disappointed in us.  Not “THEM”….”US”.  All of us.  The bottom line is that even after all this time we still haven’t gotten it right.  We are appalled at the idea of the “Whites Only” establishments that wouldn’t allow black people to sit at their lunch counters.  It truthfully wasn’t that long ago.  And there are a lot of people who still draw a very distinct line between themselves and other races.  They are very comfortable in their ignorance.   I know this blog isn’t going to solve that.  I just know that the missing link is the knowledge and acceptance that we are all one in the same and that somehow folks have forgotten that or just never learned it to begin with.  I have to accept that although I was so sure my generation would change things, I really might not live to see that world.  But I have faith that there are a lot of people out there with multicolored beads in their cups.  And I know the love in our circle is powerful and growing.  And I hope that one day it won’t be odd for some people to learn that my son is Korean and his uncle is African America, his auntie is Mexican, and we are all a family.  We all belong to each other.

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”  ~Mother Teresa

Love and Light,

Janice B.

More about me: http://www.janicebmusic.com

Sticks and Stones

He was a pimp.   Not the first one I had dealt with for sure.  He had a superior attitude, loud, rude, with several women tagging along with him.  The women were strung out, incoherent, dirty, and dressed in provocative clothing.  Obeying his every word. 

This was a million years ago yet I remember it vividly.  I clearly recall the store full of customers on that Saturday night.  I was the manager on duty at a  clothing store in Landover Mall.  People reading this probably won’t know about Landover Mall.  All I can say is it was a colorful shopping mall with all kinds of people passing through…good honest folks and then the folks who were trying to steal a whole display of leather coats all while smiling and talking to you.  Drugs, shoplifting, fights.  Never a dull moment.  You had to be on your game.  So anyway…back to the pimp.  He walked in the store and I was working behind the counter with a long line of customers.  My staff on the floor glanced at me knowing they needed to be alert.  So far so good.  He seemed harmless.  Arrogant.  He was talking loudly ordering his women around.  They picked out some things to try on and went in the fitting room.  I stood behind the elevated counter ringing up customers and keeping my side eye on the pimp. 

He stood in the middle of the sales floor talking loudly to himself and kept glancing at me.  Then he pulled out a cigarette and lit it up.  He looked straight at me while he did this because even though back then you could smoke in the mall, you couldn’t smoke in the stores.  I guess it was a test.  He was waiting to see what I was gonna do.  I excused myself to interrupt the customer I was helping and then I said out loud… “Excuse me Sir.  I’m sorry but you can’t smoke in my store.”  Everyone in line stopped talking.  LOL  I remember that clearly.  Everything stopped except for the music playing.  Of course I remember the song..I’m a scorpio..hello!  It was Doug E. Fresh’s “The Show”.  LOL! 

He looked right at me.  I knew he wasn’t expecting me to say anything to him and he definitely wasn’t happy.  Then very loudly he yelled  “BITCH!  I GOT WHITE BITCHES LIKE YOU WORKING FOR ME!!!”  It sounds silly now.  But that is what he said.  It was like a bad movie.  LOL  There was a collective gasp in the line at the counter.  Everyone looked down or anywhere besides at either of us.  I never flinched.  Me.  The only white “bitch” in the room at the moment I suppose besides a few of his women in the fitting room.  And here I am telling a pimp what he can’t do.  I never changed my expression.  I replied calmly, “Sir I’m sure that is true,  however you still cannot smoke in my store.  Would you like for me to call someone to show you out to where you can smoke?”  Silence.  He looked at me and kept smoking.  He looked at the mall security guard who just happened to walk by to give me a wave and see if we were cool…and then he mumbled something and walked out of the store.  I continued to ring folks up and act like nothing had happened, talking to people in line and keeping it moving.  It was still way too quiet.  The man next in line said, “You handled that REALLY well.  That attitude is gonna serve you well in life.  You are gonna go far.”  I remember that clearly.  That African American man with his kind round face telling me about myself and where this little incident was gonna take me.   At the time I was very young and it really didn’t seem like anything but another crazy Saturday evening.  But now I really understand…

As a songwriter and lyricist I know the power of words.  The hurtful ones thrown at someone effectively can break a spirit, shatter a dream, ostracize, demean, and do a lot of damage to a person’s self esteem.  In turn, one kind word can make a horrible day suddenly become hopeful.  A positive word can encourage, motivate, heal, and sometimes even save a life.  To me, name calling is the last weapon in someone’s arsenal and when they resort to hurling insults I know they have already lost whatever game they are trying to win.  I think this is why political advertisements always turn me off.  If you can’t effectively tell me what you need to say without bashing someone else then what you are saying isn’t worth listening to.  It is childish but some adults do this all of the time.  She/he is fat, a whore, a bitch, ugly, stupid, etc.  And with the internet allowing people to hide behind their profiles with no face to face confrontation it’s even easier to be a bully.  Even though we are hopefully above all of that..hearing a harsh word like that about you can still sting.  Even as a grown woman.    

So fast forward from the pimp incident to present time and the reason I am writing this blog.  I just recently I discovered I have a few “haters” out there in cyberland.  I’m not a fan of the term “hater” but we’ll go with it for now.  I’m not even sure it’s me they hate.  It could be someone in my creative circle.  But let me elaborate…

It started the day my husband was in the hospital for his heart procedure.  I was already stressed out and trying to stay above the chaos when I got a notification on my phone that someone had commented on a page of mine on the internet.  It was someone who had apparently looked through all of my content, photos, video etc.  They said I was old, fat, couldn’t sing, the songs were boring, I must be sleeping with my producer, etc.  Damn.  What the hell??  I’m not gonna lie.  I was shocked and it definitely hurt a little.  Who is this and why all of the sudden?  Then I realized after checking it out that this person had created a fake profile and was going around to all of my pages making comments.  Some of my content on the pages was over 4 years old.  So why was this happenening all of the sudden??  I don’t have anything new going on that would warrant such comments.  While it made me angry I just deleted it and dismissed it. 

It was quiet for a while then a few weeks later there was a sudden onslaught of fake new profiles and awful comments.  Some really bad accusing me of all types of things that I won’t list here.  They said I was fat, looked pregnant, had wrinkles, must be over 50 years old, and an awful singer.  They made comments about my race, my hair, my voice, the songs, my horrible close up shots, my chin, my body, my band members, etc.  Jeez.  Why was this happening?  I couldn’t think of anything that had happened that would cause such nastiness towards me.  I hadn’t had any bad words or hard feelings with anyone that I was aware of.  I try to send a positive message with most things that I do and I seem to be gaining a small but very cool fanbase of awesome people.  But these guys weren’t playing around.  They were clearly on a mission to try to tear me down.  And all of them were new, fake profiles created that day with no other history except for bashing me.  It may have even been the same person since they misspelled some of the same words, etc.  But now they were clearly doing name searches on me.  Pulling up anything that had my name on it and leaving nasty comments.  But why?? 

I probably won’t ever know why.  It’s amazing to me that even today, as a 40 something mom, wife, singer, songwriter, etc…there are still people out there who want to tear me down.  I am not some big popular artist.  I am not competing with anyone.  Geez, half the time I am a mommy trying to make ends meet and do this music thing and find some time to rest when I can.  So to know someone is really going out of their way to hate on me is crazy.    But I know there is a bigger picture here.  This mindset…the people who go out of their way to belittle you and try to make you feel inferior and worthless..these are the “bullies” that we teach our children to ignore.  It’s easy to say “just ignore it”….even “it gets better”.  That’s easy to say when you aren’t the one being constantly ridiculed and belittled.  It wears on you.  It is hurtful.  It is unfair.  I’ve dealt with it before.  Jealous people, bullies, people trying to keep you out of their circle, squash your dreams.  But it’s at these moments that it’s even more important to stand firm in who you KNOW you are.

“It doesn’t matter what name you call me….what matters is the name I answer to.”     

People look at you and they see what they want to see. And you look in the mirror and you see what YOU want to see. Sometimes they don’t match up.  To that pimp that night I was just another white bitch.  Someone he was going to overpower.  But see I KNEW who I was. I didn’t need to act out. I didn’t need to get angry.  This is me. And I have found that when I am confidently standing as me…who I am….there is nothing that can hold me back. There is no one who can break me down.  There is no name you can call me that I haven’t risen above before and I may have even at one time looked in the mirror and believed  some of those things about myself.  But it has never stopped me.  Even when it hurts I press on.     

I know that people who act out like this are hurt.  They have also been bullied and hurt before and have never learned how to rise above it or change it.  (Thank you Raven for that insight)  Or they feel small and need to tear someone else down to feel powerful and a part of something.  It takes a lot of effort to create several fake profiles and spend your time looking up Janice B. only to leave comments that for whatever reason you think will hurt me or stop me from going after my goals.  In a sick way I suppose it’s a compliment.  You have to care a whole lot to put that much passion into hate.  My producer MoRece said once that people only start buzzing when there is something there to buzz about.  I know that is true but like I said in a recent Facebook status, I’ve never claimed to be young, wrinkle free, skinny, or a phenomenal singer.  I’m just doing what I love and being who I am.  I don’t need to hide behind a fake profile and hurt folks to feel powerful.  I stand strong in who I am no matter how imperfect that may be to someone else.  I know it’s probably best to just be silent regarding these incidents but that’s not my style.  I don’t hide.    If these people want to keep hurling sticks and stones at me I will just catch them and add them to this big mountain that I am climbing.  I will reach the top and continue to rise.  So I thank them for the extra lift and pray they find something in their lives worth climbing towards besides trying to pull me down.  I also thank them for the extra attention to my pages.  All of those extra hits are great!  🙂 

As for the pimp that night, he came back in the store still talking loudly I suppose to compensate for the fact that he didn’t shut me up.  He got in line with the women.  We rang him up and he took out a wad of one hundred dollar bills and threw money on the counter towards me.  But he didn’t look at me.  And he didn’t speak to me.  One of the women reached up to take a flyer off of the counter and he smacked her hand and told her to put it back.  I felt kind of sick inside.  As a woman, a mother, and a human being I now wonder what kind of abuse one had to endure to get to that level of despair and self hatred…I wondered that for both her and for him.  I pray I never come to understand that. 

I recently saw a quote in different variations on the internet but I’m not sure who said it or how the real quote is worded (if you know please tell me!).  But I will share it as best I can since it’s really fitting for this situation…..

“Remember that if people are trying to pull you down it’s because you must already be above them.”

Many thanks to the wonderful friends and fans in my world who take the time to send me a positive message, a kind word, and just something to let me know I am moving in the right direction.  For every negative comment I may receive I have so many more messages of love that you all continue to shine on me.  I choose your light as my focus and we are rising together!!

Love and Light,

Janice B.

**photo credit D. Taylor Images

Aiming the Gun, Taking a Life (My thoughts on the Trayvon Martin case)

I used to keep a gun in my house.  A revolver. 

I knew how to use it even though I hoped I would never have to.   Even if someone was breaking the door down I would hopefully be able to escape without having to shoot someone.  But the fact of the matter is when you own a gun you have to also own the fact that you might be responsible for taking someone’s life.  Some people think that sounds easy given the right circumstances.  But most people who think it is easy, people who think that they could easily shoot someone who was trying to harm them or their child, for example, have most likely never even held a gun.   They have no idea what the decision to point a gun and shoot someone brings with it.  It should never be easy.  

I am familiar with and have respect for guns because I grew up with them.  My father was a DC police officer and later homicide detective.  He also used to hunt for food.   We had guns in the house.  I knew where they were.  I knew how to use them.   My father instilled in me that guns are dangerous weapons and that thankfully he had never had to take someone’s life as a police officer.  He said that a good police officer should go their entire career praying they never have to take someone’s life.  And that it was a burden that no one should ever have to carry.   But he also said that you never ever pick up a gun and aim it at someone, human or animal, unless you are ready to accept that burden.  If the possible harm to you is greater than the burden of taking that life then you will have to live with that choice even if you feel justified in making it. 

I’m talking about guns because I wonder what was going through the mind of George Zimmerman the night he chose to aim his gun and shoot Trayvon Martin.  Like pretty much everyone I know, this case is weighing heavily on my heart these days.   It seems the details of that evening keep changing as more witnesses emerge, so even as I type this there may be new developments.   But going from what I know now I’m curious about the mental state of a grown man out in his car, carrying a gun, looking for “suspicious” people.   I’m curious as to why a 17 year old child of any color walking down the street in his neighborhood would appear suspect.  And like everyone else I wonder what in Zimmerman’s soul made him believe that he could go out that night with a gun, cruise the neighborhood, stalk this boy, antagonize him, and take his life?  Who gave him that right?  Did he understand the weight of that choice? 

I know we are all outraged about the actions of the Sanford police department that night.  Even if Zimmerman was being attacked and beaten when he decided to shoot that gun he should have still been detained for questioning until the facts emerged.  “Stand your ground” law or not….basic common sense procedures were ignored.  And given the fact that they KNEW he was following the boy.  They KNEW he was going after Trayvon.  It was clearly premeditated.  If he had stayed in his car and reported the “suspect” this would have never happened.  A child would not have been shot and killed.  Black, white, asian, whatever.  The police failed us.  I know people are pointing to the racial aspects of this injustice making it a black vs. white issue.  I don’t know if the police were racist and I’m not even sure that Zimmerman is white.  But quite honestly I’m saddened that this is becoming a race issue.   Because even though there could be a racist motive here, WE as human beings need to be united in this.  

This is about humanity.  This is about valuing another’s life like you value your own.  The truth is, Trayvon is my son.  He’s my brother, my child, my friend, my coworker, my neighbor.   How many times have I gone out in the rain or cold to get the mail wearing my husband’s hoodie pulled tightly around my face?  You can’t tell my race or my gender.  You can’t tell if I’m “on drugs” or planning to commit a crime.  And what if my neighbor is not mentally stable and decides to shoot me because I appear suspicious?  What if it’s my son as a teenager walking home from school?  What if it was my producer MoRece who walked down Calvert Street in the rain wearing a hoodie just to come to my show at the Baltimore Book Fair to support me?   Truth is it could be any of us.  Yes Trayvon is OUR family.  

But here’s the difficult part.  Zimmerman is our family too.  He’s someone’s child.  We may be sickened by his actions and feel hatred in our hearts for what he did, but he is still a human being.   Since his actions were handled improperly and he wasn’t detained by the police we don’t know yet what his story is.  We don’t know if he is sick or what his state of mind is.  But whether we like it or not he is one of us.   He’s that person who clutches their purse closer when a group of young black men walk by.  He’s those people who hate the Korean ladies in the nail shop because they just know they are talking about them.  He’s just like that uncle who doesn’t trust white people or that cousin who says “there goes the neighborhood” when a black family moves in.  He’s just like those of us who judge by the exterior or by the prejudice we have formed in our hearts instead of looking at each person as a unique individual.  He’s those of us who still don’t see that we are all in this life together.  There is no black or white or asian to that.  We were created by the same force.  We were put here for a reason.   This is who we have become.  And only WE can change it.  I know this blog won’t change much.  But this is so heavy on my heart that I felt the need to say something.  I continue to see the racial division on social networks over the Trayvon case and others like it.  I continue to see the black vs. white and “us vs. them” mindset and it makes me sad.  For whatever it’s worth, I pray we can rise out of this together.     

I no longer own a gun.  Before we adopted my son in 2009 I removed it from my house and gave it back to my father.  I know that while I AM able to shoot someone to protect myself or my family, I also know that as a mother I am NOT able to carry the burden of taking the life of another mother’s child.  I’m a different person now.  I know I don’t want to ever have to make that decision.  I live with peace in my life and in my heart.  My father taught me well.  

As for my father, the retired police officer and former hunter…..he now feeds the deer from his back deck.  He is 83 now.  He has names for them and saves up old bread so that he and my son can feed them when we visit.  He no longer hunts.  He told me he doesn’t think he has it in him anymore.  He has changed.  

Me too Daddy.  Me too. 

Love and light….

Janice B.

Letting Go and Falling Free…

“The only constant is change, continuing change, inevitable change, that is the dominant factor in society today. No sensible decision can be made any longer without taking into account not only the world as it is, but the world as it will be.”
— Isaac Asimov

Ahhhh  change.  Lots of folks fight hard to avoid it.  They hold onto bad situations out of “comfort” and fear of the unknown.  Fear of what will happen if they let go and move on uncertain of what tomorrow will or won’t bring.  It might be a relationship that isn’t working but hey it’s much easier to hold onto it because the alternative is being alone.  Or maybe it’s a project that someone won’t give up on because they’ve put too much time and money into it even though it’s becoming a complete disaster.  It can also be someone’s appearance.  They are desperately trying to stay “young” and refuse to accept Mother Nature’s little touches on their skin and figure.  And some folks are just plain stuck in a time warp.  They retain the “look” they had at the highest point of their lives.  You’ve seen them…the ones who still have the same style of hair and dress they wore in high school because that’s when they were the happiest, the most popular, etc.

I will admit that in the past I have been there many times.  (except for the hair…that changes all the time lol)  I’m someone who doesn’t like to give up on things.  When I put my whole heart into something it’s very difficult for me to let it go and move in a different direction.  I feel guilty; I feel like a failure, I feel like a fool.  And in the past I would rather feel all of those things than face the possibility that letting go might bring something better.  Taking that leap is some scary shit.  The fall might kill you or it might be exhilarating and change you forever…but nothing happens till you take that first leap.  Over the past years I have learned that in order to grow as a person and an artist, I have to be willing to step out on blind faith and follow my dreams.   When I do what brings me joy everything else falls into place.   I left a job that was paying me well but draining the life out of me.  It was scary at the time but it wasn’t scarier than thinking about how sick I would be if I stayed.  No amount of money was worth it.  I was also in a difficult position with a musical decision a long time ago and I had to decide was I going to stay there and try to make it work or move in a different direction and trust that no matter what happened I would embrace the changes ahead.   A new friend I had met through this musical family at the time asked me why I was holding onto something that clearly was bringing me no joy.  And she reminded me that I won’t ever find that joy until I let go of the things that are holding me back. “You don’t need this.  Just let it go.” I believe were her exact words.

I chose to move forward.  It was challenging.   I lost some “friends”.  I lost a band.  I lost the only musical connections I ever thought I could have, I lost a little bit of who I thought I was.  But the better side of the coin was that I also lost self doubt, I lost that knot in the pit of my stomach after every band rehearsal, and I lost the need for approval from people who were only giving me negative energy in return.  And in this process I gained so much.  I met new musicians, new friends, created new music.  I became a solo artist.  ME…Janice Alexander Buerkli…now Janice B.…a freaking solo artist!  It didn’t happen overnight.  It wasn’t easy.   I remember when I first started posting the songs on MySpace that my producer MoRece and I had created.  I remember getting some negative comments from some people in my musical past that I had moved away from.  I heard some ridiculous shit.  And I admit, at the time it made me angry and it hurt.  And I remember MoRece saying “They are only talking because YOU are making moves…you are creating a buzz.  It’s not a bad thing.”  And he was right.  These folks didn’t think I would keep moving and when there was tangible musical proof that I was, they got uncomfortable.  It sucked but it was a part of the process.   Lord I don’t look back often but when I do I cannot believe how far I have come and how much I have changed.  And I’m still evolving.  I’m still learning, still writing, still creating.  It’s amazing.

Fear used to hold me back.  I had a lot of personal phobias that stopped me from doing the things I wanted to do.  But quite honestly there is very little I am afraid of now.  That is one thing that taking the leap of faith will give you….fearlessness.  Even the difficult things that happen to me I know will result in something joyful.  Every heartache, loss, breakup, disappointment had a purpose.  I like to create a timeline of joy in my mind.  For example if I hadn’t gone through “A” I would never have met “B” and “C” would never have happened.  And “C” rocks!!  🙂  Everything I have today that brings me joy is a result of all of my experiences, good and bad.  I know that I have to keep my eyes open, look for the joy and keep moving forward. 

Now when I am at a crossroads I tell God I’m ready, I let go, and I soar toward what beauty lies ahead.  It sounds silly, I know.  I didn’t believe it either the first time I did it.  But it has never failed me.  You should try it.  Just let go…..

“Slowly..letting go and falling free I’m soaring…taking in the beauty of this flight…and lifted by the light that I’m feeling inside..watch me fly…” ~Janice B. from the song “My Life”

*My new CD “My Life” is available for download for $8.00 on my page at the Stinkiface Music Website.  Here’s the link! http://www.stinkifacemusic.com/janiceb

Love and Light,

Janice B.