The central questions will ring through when one is listening. I heard the question, “Who am I playing this for?” — and the answer rushed in, “Myself.”
Dear Everybody,
Now that I am gone, I want you to know that I worked everyday to make myself as happy as I could be. I pursued my interests. I was curious. I read about things. I turned some of my natural inclinations into my livelihood and it wasn’t the worst job I could have had. That’s something.
I want you to know that I’m proud of my family. I’m proud of the family I came from and I’m proud of the family I have created. I know that I contributed something simply by being there and maybe that’s the greatest contribution anyone can make — to be there.
I wish I’d had the courage to take a few more risks. Wish I could have loved myself enough to “toot my own horn” a little bit more. Wish I could have been brave enough to stand up to certain people who seemed clueless or strangely so selfish that they could hardly see anyone around them. Those nights when I lay in bed worrying about how things were going to turn out, I wish I could have just trusted myself more. Wish I could have trusted the universe more.
All in all, I’d say I was good person. I always took a moment, if I had a moment, to check in with myself to see what my instincts were telling me about what was the right thing to say or do. When I didn’t have a moment, I went with my gut. Most of the time, my gut was right. I knew always to think of the other person and to act with empathy. I’m not sure how I knew that.
So, I guess I’m gone now. My time on Earth is over. I feel so lucky that I got to be here — even though it seems it could never be for too long. I wish I could see the way the world is going to change and evolve. I wish I could see more of what is to come — but that won’t be of my time. I’ve gotten to live my own unique span of history and that will have to be enough. I’m thankful that I was also blessed with such pragmatism.
At the risk of being obvious, all of you know that I loved you. I guess I didn’t say it very often — but you know I did.
I’ll miss you.
All my love,
________________ [print name]
________________ [signature]
- Dear Everybody hear paula read: Dear Everybody 2:19
endure
Endure through change. My father, Edmond Roy McMath died on January 31st, 2020 — weeks before the world changed. He always told me to “press on” — to endure. This post is for him.
process
Process is more important than what one makes. I know less about “where I’m going”, now, than I used to think I did. I can’t go where I’ve already been. Can’t go back; I can only go forward.
imitation
Artist On Kawara inspires me to imitate his daily processes in the digital realm. Through his inspiration, and by my own instincts, I will find my way to honor the day.
2022
“I got up…” = Tweet.
“I went…” = Instagram.
“I am still alive.” = Blog.
“Today” = Songs. Poems.
“I got up.” – On Kawara
“Creativity is the belief that something is worth doing.” What a struggle that concept is right now. It feels as though so much has been stripped away – so much is broken.
At the Guggenheim in 2015, I recall seeing an exhibit of On Kawara’s work. Burned in my memory is part of his seminal series “I got up.” Between 1968 and 1979, Kawara sent two postcards each day with the phrase “I GOT UP AT” followed by the precise time of day he got out of bed. It was worth doing. I am so grateful.
Christopher Nupen said, “We take chances when we exchange words with other human beings.”
I’m beginning to take chances again. I’m assessing what I believe is worth doing. I’m getting up.
Berklee’s Pat Pattison, Master Class honoree
“Paula McMath is writing and performing at a very high level. It has been my honor to have worked with her in several master classes. I can always count on her to have a wonderful song to begin with, and to be able to execute changes quickly and effectively. She is a joy to work with — a real pro.” Pat Pattison
Songwriters Vantage
“Paula McMath’s “Trust The Sky” is a self-affirming, moving tribute to one’s own journey through life. The melody takes just enough twists to keep it fresh when we least expect it. Produced lucidly to reveal the storyline, that makes it even more personal to the listener. “
sinking and surfacing
I’m not one to talk if I don’t have anything to say. I’ve been writing, over the past few years, but not publishing as much. There are times for talking and there are times for listening. I guess I’ve been in a phase of the latter.
I recognized, recently, (because it’s such a metaphor for so many things) that it’s been more than a hundred years since the sinking of the Titanic. It occurred to me that it would be interesting to try to write a song from the perspective of one of the musicians who played on that voyage. They were famously heard playing, from the lifeboats, even as the ship was sinking.
Truth is, the song I have written is not really about the musicians on the deck of the Titanic. It’s about my own feeling that my personal “musical ship” has been going down, for some time now. I know I’m not alone in expressing that a music career is a hard thing to sustain.
As I “imagined” being one of those fateful musicians who played as the ship was sinking, I learned that, for myself, the central question became; “Who am I playing this for?” And I knew, in no uncertain terms, that fundamentally those players must have been playing for themselves.
It struck me that that is the most important reason to continue to make music.
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