Edna Mode said in The Incredibles to, “never look back, darling - it distracts from the now.” And while I think that is sound advice, I have been thinking over my past often in the last few months. I feel I’m at a crossroads in life and want to learn from my past, and also never forget who I’ve been.
When you have an anxious trauma-brain, it can be super easy to look at the past and only see the negative. And while my aim is to always bring positivity and hope to all spaces - especially online spaces -, I feel like I want to share what I’ve learned when it comes to relational loss/rejection/pain. I don’t necessarily have a solution to the circumstances I’ve been through, especially since they put me through my own levels of debilitating emotional pain which I am still growing through. Also, I believe that pain is super relative and I am teaching myself to look at my pain with compassion, not minimization, judgement, or feelings of guilt. We experience what we experience how we experience it and I’ve found the only healthy response is growing through it, slowly and surely. And never, in my relation of my truth, do I intend to project hopelessness or hatred. Only hope, love, and solutions if possible. One last point and then I’ll get to the meat: I share all of this in a semi-public format because my childhood was full of people who either minimized my experience, never listened to and honored my truth, or had little to no personal relationship with me when it was their vocation to do so. As a result, I have always felt embarrassment at sharing my personal experiences with my corner of the world. I have gone through years of self-imposed silence because messaging I received when I was young taught me that very few outside my immediate family really wanted to hear it. I was a people-pleaser and my truth was not pleasing, so I kept silent. By sharing what I’ve learned from my experiences, I hope it encourages silenced individuals to speak up in their individual ways, to share what they’ve been told no one wants to deal with, to speak when they’ve kept it all back. I believe that is the ultimate bravery and I honor those of you who speak your truth. Thank you. And now, the meat: I don’t know about you, but one of the things that defined my young adulthood was folks I loved leaving my life, often under traumatic circumstances and without closure. Between my early teenhood and now, quite a few prolonged, formative relationships in my life broke apart and left my heart destroyed. I remember rejection and betrayal from friends I cared for with all my heart, boys who lied and made me question if I could love again, mentor figures who left me high and dry when I needed their help, close relationships that were not what I hoped... and I feel the power of these memories like it all happened yesterday. I often wonder if it’s just the way things are - if your youth, teenhood, twenties are meant to be a slew of misunderstandings, losses, unrequited love in various forms, and nights crying alone in the car. Is life supposed to be a pandemic of hurt people hurting people, with no solution? I ask myself, the universe, my mother, that if all these relationships meant something and if I gave them my all, why did I lose them? I construct karmic structures and expectations for my behavior, in hopes that I can obliterate any chance of future heartbreak. I guilt-trip myself, thinking of all the minute ways I could have been better, and maybe they wouldn’t have left. My fears of abandonment take over and I begin to believe that I am destined for loss, after loss, after heart-crushing loss. Sometimes, I start to believe I’m too weak to sustain anything meaningful in this world. But then a softer voice, with no anger, blame, or panic reminds me that yes...
We all experience the pain of losing ones we love, sometimes without justification or a satisfactory resolution to the situation. And sometimes, we need to learn the hard way how to protect our love and give it judiciously, not willy-nilly with the hopes that it will work this time. Sometimes, I feel like a bit of a veteran when it comes to heartbreak. I get a little bitter, grow a little chip on my shoulder, walk around in the world lonely, expecting anything good to end in a busted soul and tears rolling down my face. Sometimes, I start to think the cynicism makes me stronger. Sometimes, I think the lone wolf lifestyle looks good on me. But sometimes, I sit crying over something that happened years ago, and I know that lone-wolfing it doesn’t suit me, that learning to love and being loved in return is my bread and butter, that I need to hold onto hope even though my past sometimes seems to be telling me otherwise. And at that point, the only solution to my heart breaking apart in my hands is to remember that none of it was for nothing, that the wholehearted love I always try to bring to my relationships has absolutely resulted in ones that have lasted and deepened, and that there is hope for the future because of that. I remember that heartbreaking situations teach me more about human nature, about how to hold my own heart through disappointment, and about how to be stronger for the next time. I never know if everything will be alright, but I have some assurance that it’ll all be good, somehow. Thank you for reading; much love. X
0 Comments
This song "Lament" was created in about two hours' time on a highly caffeinated Sunday night and is part of an overarching series of electronic music I'm working on called "Out of Heaven."
My initial inspiration for the series is that I want to create an apocalyptic soundtrack/scape for what I imagine the Judeo-Christian narrative of the battle in heaven and its fallout would look like. Since the fall of humanity is part of that fallout, the theme also encompasses earthly battles as well and I spent the whole time making this track imagining battle sequences from my favorite films. I designed "Lament" to sound both industrial with its heavy drumbeat and heavenly with the choral and string voices that progress through the piece. This track went through several iterations before I called it done and the childlike voice that closes out the track was my favorite accident. I think it sounds like mourning over the loss of life in the battle, but also hope that the world can someday be better. A human voice has so much power to it and I think this electronic likeness gives credence to that - I get goosebumps every time I listen to the ending. I hope you enjoy listening to this track and I am excited to share more with you. Until next time. X Sometimes it’s the small discoveries that have the most power to change our lives. Two years ago, Spotify’s algorithms handed me Dermot Kennedy’s music just when I needed to hear it and my artistic and inner life have never been the same. From my first play of his sonically epic track Glory until his debut album release in October this year, his body of work has always had a way of giving me a dose of hope and vision when I am feeling burnt out. It’s also given me a lot of bravery when it comes to sharing my own work and clarity about what kind of artist I want to become. Invaluable gifts to be sure.
Dermot’s debut album Without Fear is a curation of tracks that shows how much this busker-turned-venue-packer has evolved as an artist. This album feels both like a stamp on what he has already accomplished after years of touring, working incredibly hard, and connecting so many people to each other, and an indicator of so much more to come. He’s made a movement by sharing his heart and living with dedication and it’s been amazing to watch that happen. Without Fear has a lot of layers to it and a lot of heart behind it. Playing it on repeat for the past two months has given me a lot of joy and food for thought. Even though picking favorites is hard, here’s some bits and pieces about how I’ve experienced selected tracks off the album- I hope you’ll give the whole record a listen! Cheers. An Evening I Will Not Forget: Dermot always talks of this track as a culmination of his life story until the point he wrote it, that there is everything in this track for him. I have always believed it’s a testament to his storytelling capabilities, putting a life saga into one tune. The mixture of quiet intimacy and climactic progression of his vocals, coupled with some deeper, distorted autotune backing, create the impression of how life is always a mixture of dark and light, pain and joy, how there might be personal demons hiding around corners, trying to snatch it all away, but they cannot steal the most beautiful moments life gives us. This tune has been around almost since his beginnings and it’s awesome to see how it’s progressed this whole time. All My Friends: If I were challenged to pick a favorite DK track, All My Friends would be a top contender. On the original recording from a couple years ago, I was pulled in by the rolling piano and wispy synth, the movement like this song is on a mission, and the lyrical voyage of it. So, I got absolutely pumped when I heard the changes given to All My Friends for the album, a glow-up that serves to enhance the epic beating heart that’s always driven this song. The whole tune is a musical feast and some of my favorite elements are right after the refrain when the vocals sound like wolves howling at the moon and the way Micheál Quinn’s drumming comes in, sometimes softly and sometimes explosively, lending major momentum and sonic diversity throughout. It’s truly a song for whatever journey you’re on and the people who support you on it. What Have I Done: What Have I Done ticks all the lyrical, musical, and emotional boxes for me. When you combine the waltzing piano underlying the entire piece, Dermot’s ability to make a vocal that’s both robust and tender, and some killer drum fills, you get a track with a climactic story arch that provokes looping a few times. I would suggest grabbing some tissues before playing, though. I do not cry easily but this track hit me in the heart immediately. The lyrics are about receiving love that’s unconditional, that stays by our side no matter what we’ve done, and giving thanks for that love in return, recognizing how rare and worthy of awe it is. The world can feel cynical, temporal, cold sometimes but this song is evidence of love that stays: “I never thought I needed saving, I was right where I should be. Good God, I know it's dangerous, but it's you that I need. I'm in love this time.” Every time I hear this track, I am blown away by it and it’s a good reminder to wait for a love as real as what he sings about here. Real love is out there and it will see us as golden, irreplaceable, and worthy of praise. Rome: Rome is the perfect song for those nostalgic, and sometimes painful, moments when the past comes crashing into the present. Similar to What Have I Done, its strength lies in its emphasis on lyrical narrative and the understated yet rich keys underlying it. The track opens with the lines, “So what’s the past for? I’ll need it if love don’t last long so you can run around infinite in my head.” The first time I ever heard those lyrics, I felt like my heart had just busted open because it recalled so much to my mind from the last couple of years. What’s incredible about this one line, though, is that the lyrics are both heartrending and -mending. They carry the truth that certain memories, losses, loves may always give us some pain, but we don’t ever have to lose the joy they held. From a musical perspective, the melodic simplicity and subtle production behind this song do a lot toward giving its storyline the forefront. Also, listening to a recording of Rome feels like you’re watching Dermot sing it live, which is super special. My ultimate takeaway from this beautiful track is that the past is worth holding close, even when it’s difficult. Outgrown: Outgrown is a standout track to me amongst all of Dermot’s work so far because it combines all the hallmark elements of his work - poetic lyrics, intimate acoustics, surreal sonic texture, hip-hop influenced rhythm - into a song that reads like a statement of purpose. The lyrics portray the fear of getting lost in the fray, not living up to one’s potential, letting down the ones who look up to and are closest to you - concerns that Dermot has always been vocal about in his musical journey. Yet, rather than the track coming off as dark, heavy, fearful, it comes off as purposeful, dedicated, and really hopeful. Ultimately, it’s refreshing to hear an artist tell the truth about the struggle between fame’s pressures and his desire to be genuine and it’s incredibly relatable. We all experience times of feeling lost, like we can’t hear our intuition anymore because we’ve prioritized the wrong things, like we might lose all that’s precious to us but be too blind to recognize it happening. This song offers hope in the midst of the doubt, a solution. Keeping that spark of joy in life, believing in what we are made to do, listening for signs about what’s coming next, and prioritizing those we love will always keep us from getting lost. I love listening to this one to get a burst of inspiration, a little kick in the ass when I’m feeling less than dedicated, and as a reminder of the folks who are along for the ride, who will stay by my side no matter what so we can grow together. Thank you again for reading. Much love. <3
I have chosen to be a musician for the rest of my time on the planet. I am starting this journey that will be the making of the rest of my life. Sounds dramatic but, at twenty-three, I am beyond the point at which it would be easy for me to kick back any more and believe I have all the time in the world to figure life out.
Truth be told, I have never had all the time in the world but I have been privileged, blessed to live in a part of the planet with a certain kind of hope that I will live a life long enough to get done everything I hope for. I do not overlook that gift; an accident of geography. But I also know that all life is short and precious, not to be taken lightly or wasted. That’s why I am frustrated by all the years I’ve spent in my relatively young life using my time in a way that was not mindful or dedicated, the time I’ve spent not pouring everything I possibly could into my passion, not working hard enough toward a great goal, not fully realizing that the love I had for the arts was worth throwing my whole heart into. Part of that time was a result of swallowing the lie that so easily permeated my heart: that there are ones who are fated to be good at making art and ones who are not. No one starts out where they will be. It seems like a straight-forward truth, that there should be no expectation of prodigious skill from the get-go, that everyone has to work hard to be great, and that no one else should give them a rough time for it and allow them to do the work. There should always be hope and support around artistic aspirations. Yet, not everyone has this perspective. Not every teacher is encouraging and mindful, not every co-creator is accepting and supportive, not every friend will see your growth. It’s a reality of the artistic world that needs to be shifted. Though I have been doing both for years, I have spent a good portion of those years having no overall hope for myself when it comes to my dancing and music - both because of my personal anxieties and toxic artistic cultures I have experienced. There are always times of spectacular personal joy, breakthroughs, and deep interpersonal connection. There are times where heaven speaks through me because what comes from my body, voice, heart is exactly what I or someone else needed and beyond my own ability to have created it by myself. It reminds me that I was made to say so much and I need to let eternity come on through, unhindered by my small grasp of what I can do. It has always come down to believing in the good - the joy over the fear, the truths over the lies, the inclusion over the toxicity. I accepted the fear that it was all beyond me until some things occurred in my life in a short two years’ time to show me that keeping silent is not an option, that music would be a saving space, and that if my heart is going to crack open, I should pour its contents into something that will hopefully serve the world and show it love, show it the truth that we are not alone. So, I am a musician until the day I die. I have chosen it and feel chosen for it. The work is ahead of me and everything I’ve kept inside will have a space to come to life. So much growth has happened in these last two years since my entire life changed, and I am so glad to think of where this all will take me. I would like to tell you about my name, this combination of syllables that are mine alone and make me who I am. I think that like most people, it has taken me some time to grow into my name, to wrap my head around it a little and see it as my own. Very few of us actually choose our names, the way in which everyone will speak about us for the rest of our lives, and I have certainly contemplated changing mine. But when I think about everything my name represents, I wouldn’t change it and I embrace it.
Hannah is my first name. It is the English form of the Hebrew name Channa - meaning grace of God - and celebrates the life of a woman whose one strongest desire was heard by the infinite and how the fulfillment of her desire changed the trajectory of her people forever. My mother chose this name because of her great faith in God, and my father had prayed very earnestly for me to be a girl. When I was a baby, there was a woman of Cuban descent who attended church with my parents and she liked to take me in her arms and sing that I was her “sweet poquita Hannita.” When I learnt to write, my first name was of course very easy to spell, though I remember the double N’s gave me trouble when I was learning cursive writing. In social situations with others my age, it was sometimes confusing whether or not I was being referred to because there were always at least two other Hannah’s besides myself. There were ubiquitous nicknames like Hannah Banana and Hannah Montana. Folks always mishear my name over the phone and in loud rooms. I end up being Anna, Shannon, and Heather quite often, as well as a variety of others. When I entered my twenties and my faith began to shift, I did not know what to do with Hannah. For a while, it did not seem to reflect the person I had become. Yet, when I look back on my life, I can see so many times where grace has been offered to me over and over, where I have evaded dangers and pitfalls, where loved ones have forgiven me and supported me. And so, Hannah seems like the right fit for me. Lucille is my second name. It is the English form of the Latin masculine name Lucius and means light. There are so many literary, cultural, and pop culture figures that can be associated with this one: Lucifer, the angel who fell from Heaven and is called the Prince of Darkness. Lucis Malfoy from the Harry Potter series. My personal favorite, Lucy from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. It is my paternal grandmother’s middle name. My mom put it with Hannah because it honestly has a nice ring to it and because my grandmother is an incredibly smart and selfless woman who all in my family want to grow up to be like. She is the matriarch of our clan, no doubt. I always appreciated being her namesake. When I first experienced The Chronicles of Narnia, I started making the connection between this part of my name and Lucy Pevensie, the young destined-queen whose joy in Aslan is constant and whose faith and strength are breathtaking. I have always wanted to meet Aslan amongst the dancing trees like she did. I once had a stranger say this name sounds like that of a god - I’ll take it! I’ve never had a quarrel with my middle name and I use it whenever I can. A light in the darkness. My last name, Emory, is an English form of a Germanic surname which means, “home strength.” My family are Irish-, Scots-, Viking-, and Germanic-descendant. We come from and are to this day fire-filled, independent, strong-willed warriors and always will be. It is not a common name and everyone misspells and mispronounces it. Yet, I find comfort in having a unique surname and one that is rich with personal meaning. This name will always live in my mind as a representation of the sacrifices my family members have given for the freedom of their people. I do not know very much about my family history past my grandmother’s lifetime and some genealogical information, but I have always had great pride in the military and law enforcement roles my family have played. My father and my oldest brother have been especially influential in my life in this regard, teaching me to live with honor, act with integrity, and protect the innocent, all values that they embodied throughout their careers. I am Hannah Lucille Emory. Thankful for this name and thankful for all those it represents. I hope I wear the name well. Thank you for reading. |
Archives
March 2024
Categories |