Red Fox

I have made the decision: we will be traveling by car for the rest of this tour.

I feel that we gave the train/public transportation route a hearty try. We now know what it looks and feels like. But for the sake of convenience, my back, Gabe's knee, my bank account, and our stress levels, I've decided that the car is a better option for us, for our remaining 7 shows. (Of course, if we get in a car wreck, or kill an animal, this may prove to be a worse decision for our bodies, my bank account, or our stress levels.)

Do I see this decision as "unsustainable"? Yes. Driving a car is unsustainable for the planet, and it is also unsustainable for me, as a person. I don't think I can be happy living a life as a person who frequently drives a car, or as a touring musician who tours by car. But I am coming to realize that this touring experience as a whole is not sustainable for me either. Booking a tour, and embarking upon it as an independent musician is so much work, so little pay, and though it's soulfully satisfying in many ways, I'm not getting up in the morning thinking "This is it! This is my calling, and I will do this over and over again!" I've seen this tour as a meaningful experiment. And I think what I'm learning concretely is: yes, I want to make albums and play music for people forever. But no, I don't want to try to make a living as a touring musician.

Yesterday I had a profound experience. I was in my room (the room I grew up in, in Princeton New Jersey,) and I glanced out the window at the very moment that a fox was running through my front yard. I lived in this house for 16 years, I've visited frequently over the last 10 years, and I've never seen a sign of a fox on our property, let along in the neighborhood. It's been raining a lot here, so the grass is a vibrant green. The fox's fur was bright red/orange. The sight was majestic. I felt as though I was watching a fairytale unfold before me. He was enormous, much larger than I imagine a fox to be, and I could see the side of his face as he moved towards the woods, so beautifully, so gracefully. As soon as he was out of view from my upstairs window, I ran downstairs and tried to see him from my back porch. I stood silently, but I imagine that he sighted me, because all of a sudden he ran full speed back into the woods. This sight was both a deeply life-affirming and heartbreaking experience for me. Life-affirming to see such a beautiful creature existing in this world. Heartbreaking because I knew that he was running towards another house, another fence, another road. His habitat is shrinking, his life is being threatened by our civilization. We simply don't leave enough room for his kind to thrive. And in that moment I was shaken with just how valuable his life/his kind is to me.

In this era of thinking, and re-thinking my career path, my career options, I know that whatever I choose to do, I want to be on the side of the fox.