Had someone asked me a few years ago where I wanted to vacation, I never in a million years would have said, “Yankton, South Dakota, on the Missouri River”. Yet, over the years of playing here, making friends, and spending reflection time near the water, it has become one of my favorite places to be. It was absolutely wonderful to wake up in the morning, make coffee, do a crossword, blog a bit, and look out the window at the chipmunks playing tag…and all while wearing no pants. It is truly a sign of feeling safe, at “home”, and relaxed. Honestly, the best I’ve felt in three weeks. Once I finished up my work, I decided to pour on some sunscreen, don my “beaver bikini” that I purchased in Alabama one year ago, and go soak up the sun at the river. Jared wanted to get some more work done, and we both were grateful for the space to be able to do our own thing…for a bit.
I walked to the river bank (which, coincidentally, was a few miles down river from where we wrote “I Like You” in 2018, when I was plagued by mosquitoes and thought the end of the world was near) and found an isolated spot between two jetties that was just perfect for a gal with a towel. I could hear kiddos swimming in the adjacent inlet, and occasionally, a speed boat would pull some flailing and laughing teens past the mouth of the jetties, causing the river to swell and crash on the sea-shelled shore. I even opened my “record” app and captured three minutes of water, bird, and bug noise, so I can revisit anytime. I laid on the sand, watched the clouds, and swam in the warm water for two hours, and not a single soul came to join me. Just my own. It was heaven.
I understand that some of our tour blogs are rife with adventure and obstacles that we learn lessons from or glean wisdom through. But it is also important to embrace the slowness and down time, that sometimes outweighs the movement. You can get really sidetracked in the silence and start listening to strange, obscured voices, feeding you lies and derailing you from your mission. Or, you can breathe deep and steel yourself in purpose, listening to the other voices, cheering you on and encouraging you to use your voice and speak your truth. People ask me all the time if I get a lot of songwriting done when we have time like this. The answer is no. I really rarely do. I think good writing comes from listening. Listening to yourself and your thoughts. Listening to others and the sounds around you. Listening to joy and longing. Listening to anger and laughter. That feels harder to do with all the movement and noise. Times like these are important for the listening. The songs will come. For now, I’ll listen.
