home, and feeling terribly disoriented and empty. not up for writing much, but want to say something important before too much time passes.

i left for my European tour in early November thinking that it would essentially be a solitary adventure. that no matter who was around me now and then, or listening to me sing each night from the darkness offstage, i would ultimately be alone in the clubs, alone in a hostel room each night, alone after it was all over. this was okay with me, as solitude is a choice i so often make. i even assumed i’d go off to Iceland for a few days after Offenbach to decompress in the mountains and snowstorms for a few days, alone.

of course i was still alone much of the time. but these periods felt like transitions more than anything else, bridges between warm places. in truth, i was surrounded by the kindest and most giving people i could ever have imagined, people who disarmed me and overrode my shyness, and made me feel like being alone was something that i should leave for another time. that i was where i belonged, even if only for a brief and wondrous few weeks. through Germany, Russia, Bulgaria, Romania, Croatia, Slovakia, and Czech Republic, and the incredible adventures i had in all of these magical places, people from all over Europe, and the people i travelled and shared stages with, made the past month so vivid and beautiful that as heartbroken and not at all ready to stop as i am feeling now that i am at home in Canada, i have so many lovely memories within easy reach that i feel i will get through the disorientation and pain of missing all of you, and all i went through, and emerge intact. and possibly even stronger than i already was.

still far too raw and emotional to get any of this right. to process that these connections are once again held together over thousands of miles only by words on screens and memories, not faces and voices and dim stages where i could sing to you every night, sense you standing on the outskirts of the stage lights. but before i disappear for a little while to readjust, and to try to start working on booking some new shows, writing new music, i want to say thank you to everyone who helped me, talked to me, hugged me, showed me around, fed me, kept me company, drank with me, listened to me sing, did my sound, gave me a place to sleep, shared the stage with me, shared their stories with me, and made me feel that in spite of my enduring love for solitude, and how my heart so often feels, i’m not as alone as i think i am. and that my music is not only alive, but spreading hope in all sorts of faraway places, and in all sorts of beautiful wounded hearts.

thank you.