*There are things that happen in life that suck the breath out of our bodies, that scar and burn and sear like wildfire—whether metaphorically or literally. In many situations we have no escape--no alternative--no ideal scenario, no more pleasant choice. All the manifestation mindsets and quantum experimentation and meditations and well-intentioned efforts at self-improvement that we may adopt in pursuit of a happier life can fall tragically and infinitely short when certain types of shit get brutally real. It seems cruel beyond measure to speak of “being still” to, say, a Palestinian child or mother or father in 2023. These sorts of mindsets are extra-survival, and thus, are privileges in some measure more accessible to the properly fed, adequately sheltered, and relatively well. I cannot pretend I am not one of these people. I realize that for me to share what I am about to share today certainly reflects that privilege. I hope that, by acknowledging this, I can maintain integrity with you in sharing what I am releasing on Monday, 11/20. If you are interested in a particularly nuanced and trauma-informed take on the unfolding horrors in Gaza, I recommend this video (and others) by Dr. Gabor Maté.*
It is counter-intuitive to be still when something hurts. And yet sometimes, we have no choice.
Be Still was written in July of 2021. I had been walking up to a local store carrying a bag of wrongly sized clothing, and I had my fingers on the handle of the front door when it came to me—the still and quiet yet utterly urgent feeling that something worth writing was about to come through. I had a fit of inspiration at 2pm on a sidewalk outside a boutique, nowhere near an instrument. Maybe it was because I was down the street from my friend’s house, and because I had caught sight of the wide fabric tree swing out front as I’d walked to the boutique from my car. Maybe it was because she had just sent me and some other trusted friends a message saying how exhausted and grieved and pent up she felt in the face of her sister’s skydiving accident and all that it implied for the future. My friend’s sister was paralyzed, lying still not by her own choice, unable to move—and unsure when or if that would change. Within one minute of receiving my friend’s message I felt the unmistakeable urge to express, to send deeply felt love to her and to her sister, to feel with them, to pray for them in the only way I knew how anymore — singing to I Don’t Know Who.
I turned around immediately, ill-fitting clothing still in hand, got back in the car and raced back to my office in hopes I would make it in time. All I had was a mini 32 key controller with no sustain pedal and my laptop microphone, but it was enough. Within 30 minutes, it was finished. I barely remember writing it, to be honest. I felt like I was catching it more than writing it. I don’t remember even really thinking about it…just trying to get out of the way. That is how Be Still was born. <3 Like many of my songs (the kind that come through fast and hard, like my second child did when I was in labor with her) it began as a song for one specific person, and it ended up feeling wide enough to offer something to many who might be struggling to accept something difficult or painful—including me.
I don’t want to deliver a sermon here. I really just want to point you to Becca’s amazing story and work. Two years to the day after her skydiving accident she got to go on another dive, thanks to modern technology and the help / support of her friends and fellow skydivers. Her amazing sister Elizabeth, my friend, is an energy worker and all-around beautiful human being. These two lovely people inspired Be Still, which has now become a quiet place of solace for me too. It will be out everywhere Monday, and you can pre-save at the link. If you’d like a little sonic preview, check out my most recent reel. I look forward to sharing this with you. <3 have a beautiful weekend.
XO,
Audrey
Hi Audrey,
Are you still offering a song-writers workshop?
Thanks!
I am SO excited for tomorrow. "Be Still" has historically held me in hard times. I've probably watched it on youtube 100x now. I'm so grateful that you listened to your gut and let it be written through you. Thank you for sharing and advocating for the people in Palestine and everywhere who are going through “fire”. Thank you for sharing the song and your thoughts. Thank you for being you!
-iwa