Do you remember when we used to say goodbye?
When we would hold together the things we loved – some stale, still and dead – we would balance them on our outstretched palms and watch as the wind picked them up and whipped them back to life, far beyond the range of our vision and perhaps, by some unfathomable grace, still within the reach of our fingers.
I remember. And I’ve missed it.
I’m going to be taking a break, perhaps a very long one. I’ve never loved my life more than I do right now, but the voice I trust above all others has been whispering to me again for the first time in years, and a couple months back, I made a promise to the moon (and the moon, I believe, made a promise back to me.)
After November 11th of this year, I’m going to stop touring for at while. At least a year, perhaps longer. Not because I’m sick of what I do (I can’t dream of a more blessed way to witness this world) but because I trust that voice, and because I have made a promise to the moon.
Before I go, I’ll be playing a lot of shows.
In the next eleven months, I’m traveling almost everywhere I’ve ever played before, all over North America and Europe and visiting New Zealand, Australia, Mexico and Russia. I’ll also be doing a number of small, special events near my hometown of Seattle. The year will end with a West Coast tour around Halloween with friends and a big final concert (with even more friends) on November 11th at the Moore Theater in Seattle.
Details and dates will all be posted soon. I’ll try to avoid spamming this list too much, so if you care to keep up with the minutia of my life and movements, please follow/like me in one of these places:
Or, just keep your ear to the ground…
It would be a shame to end this note with Twitter and Facebook links. So I’ll leave you with a poem, actually more of a prayer, that I read at the wedding ceremony which kicked off this eleveny year for me:
i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any – lifted from the no
of all nothing – human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
If the rest of this year proves to be anything like these first eleven days have been, I’m in for quite a ride. I hope to see you on it out there somewhere.