This week I went to the 7th Annual Appalachian Fiddlers Convention. I competed in the folksong competition and chipped away a little bit of that overwhelming fear of playing/singing in front of others. And as always, I find such warmth in the company and music at this event.
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There is a restful stillness in the morning light. Even on the days when the loudest voice in my head is me, reminding myself "the sum of your tips is not equal to the the sum of your worth." The moments of morning light carry through out my day when I go with Suzanne to interview and photograph farmers, because when I hear people talk with great passion about local food and their love for the land and these mountains, I have faith in the world again. I carry the lightness of the morning till the evening light falls her tresses all warm on my shoulders and I remember that the service industry is not forever, and my lease ends in July, and come August all roads are moonlit and unknown. I am living by myself for the first time. Here amongst the plants, the photographs, the early morning light, lamplit windows, and my great grandfather's rocking chair, I am settling into this home between the shadows.
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