Space

When it feels like you need to move to the moon to get enough space from whatever is holding you down, just go to Wyoming for a couple days. Trust me.

Growing up in Northern Alberta means I spent a lot of time looking at the sky. It was so big. I’d stand in the field at the end of our gravel driveway and see nothing but sky all around me. When you stare at the blue long enough, it feels like you can see the particles of colour just moving around. Dancing almost, because they have the space to move and be free. Maybe it’s just because I was a kid with nothing better to do. Maybe it’s because life starts happening and the wheel goes faster and there’s bills to pay so you keep your chin down and work hard in the city of your dreams. Maybe it’s because gradually time sands down your spirit so you can’t hear the voice inside you saying that you need some space. That you need to stand at the end of a gravel driveway and see nothing but sky all around you again.

I went to Jackson Hole this weekend to play a show. I prepared for my set and packed my bag for the weather and I would not have taken this trip if I hadn’t been booked for the gig. My manager suggested I stay a couple of days after my show and I reluctantly decided I would. Just the idea of getting my foot off the gas for even a moment feels wrong to me. Why does that feel so wrong?

I had the best time. I was not expecting how beautiful the wide open space was. How good it felt to feel so small next to those mountains. How much easier it was to breath. How much the conversations with my friends helped me feel less insane. How much brighter the stars are and how many little ones, like specs of dust, you don’t get to notice until you’re that far away from everything else. I sang songs in the back of a gator. I laughed. I ate ice cream. I window shopped. I saw moose and elk and a chipmunk. I saw the blue particles in the sky moving again.

And I rode a horse. In my chucks. I am not much of a western girl, but it sure was fun to feel like one. I can count the times I’ve been around horses on one hand. One of those times was with my childhood best friend Cheyenne as a kid. She grew up with horses and spoke their language and I loved that about her. I on the other hand, was deathly allergic and also terrified and I’ll never forget how we just couldn’t stop laughing after I finally struggled to get up on the horse, stuffed full of Claritin with a death grip to the saddle. It felt so funny to sit on such a majestic animal and so clearly evident that I did not belong there ha. I climbed back on a horse this weekend and felt myself laugh in the same way. I followed slowly behind my friend Avery this time and our guide Sean as he took us through the Teton National Park. It was honestly one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever done. It involved leaning back going down little stream valleys and leaning forward climbing up what felt like monstrous mountains to get to this look out spot with a view you can’t see from a road. It was stunning. I couldn’t believe how peaceful it felt. And I still can’t believe I didn’t fall off the horse.

I’ve been feeling a little defeated lately with the pace of what it feels like is necessary to keep up in the music industry. I know my creative spirit has been struggling with the wheel that’s spinning too fast. I’ve lost sleep in the past few months feeling like I don’t have new music together quick enough, and something is starting to click in my system that there is no hurry and that I am missing so much of what matters as a human being in the process of clawing to that wheel. That the feeling of being enough in this career is impossible to reach. And that feeling enough as a human is so much more important. I’m working on noticing when I feel that way and deciding to step off of the wheel, and choose what’s good for my life. For my spirit. For my soul. I’m so glad I spent a few days under the Wyoming sky.

Tomorrow I fly out to start my Canadian Headlining Tour and it feels like no accident to have been given the gift of this space just before this adventure begins. I feel ready. And centered. And grateful to get to go do what I love with rooms full of people who have decided to get a ticket and fuel the dream.

If you need some space, I hope you give yourself that gift too. It’s funny how everything that seems like it isn’t ok, starts to feel ok with a little help from the big blue sky.

From one wandering soul to another, I hope you know you’re loved as you are.

<3 T