This past Saturday I had an extraordinary experience.
What was extraordinary for me was not so much the chain of events that unfolded (of which there were many: singing, playing, weaving, spinning, telling stories and jokes, dancing and clapping, working with the audience to design an art piece, sending a weaving sailing across the room, conducting a thread-smashing rendition of Land Baby from atop the treadles of my loom… all in the company of a group of stellar musicians!).
That was all incredible, and I had the time of my life doing it. But that wasn’t the extraordinary part. The extraordinary part, as I realized late that night after the show and finally had a moment of quiet – the extraordinary part is that I was ABLE TO DO IT. And not only that, I was ABLE TO ENJOY IT, fully and without fear.
Outpost Performance Space, March 7th 2020
Here’s a little context:
Three years ago, singing for an hour would put me out for about a week.
Two years ago, I rested for a week in preparation for a ten-minute set at the New Mexico Music Awards. After the awards, I was out for 2-3 days recovering from the event.
On tour with Carlos Medina, March 2019
One year ago, as I struck out on tour in a supporting role for Carlos Medina, I did my darnedest to stand up tall and sing my best for him and my bandmates even when my body was fighting me. I was happy and loved doing it more than anything – but there were a couple of instances where, in the same moments that the song was emerging from my lips, I was also focusing all my tiniest muscles, agarrando fuerza from I don’t even know where, thinking one singular thought: “Don’t fall down, don’t fall down, don’t fall down, don’t fall down.” ...And I didn’t! Not once. When it was all over, I got home and I thought, “Ok. I think maybe I can do this.”
After Saturday’s show, in that quiet moment looking up at the moon I thought, “Wow. I can’t believe I did that.” I did everything I’d wanted to do, and then some. Yes, I was still wearing my medical compression stockings during the show. But not once did I waver or brace myself – even after having played another show the previous night, then gone into a full day of preparation, cooking, packing, loom hauling, dealing with people, extensive sound check and stage setup, merch table setup, quick wardrobe and makeup, eating (which can knock me out all by itself on bad days), and then 3 minutes left to do my hair before we had to go on.
The loom and spinning wheel transport crew: Dad, Mom Aunt Toni, John Rodriguez
After that initial moment of realization, another one hit me: Yes I did it, but also: “WE” did it!
I had so much support from Tom, Alicia, Jalila, Chad, Andres, and everyone at Outpost Performance Space. Beautiful musical souls Jefferson Voorhees, Justin Bransford and Jordan Wax had faith in me and my ideas and worked hard to make them shine, and Enrique Lamadrid and Miguel Gandert stepped up to document the whole shebang. So many friends and fans attended the show and participated with gusto — perhaps due in part to the enthusiastic coverage by the wonderful folks at KUNM Radio. And finally and most importantly, these two groups: My loom and wheel transport crew – Mom and Aunt Toni, Dad and John, without whom this whole endeavor would not have been possible at all — and my friends Alejandro Tomás Rodriguez, Lloyd Bricken and Agnieszka Kazimierska, who over the course of several performance work sessions have helped me encounter once again a part of me that I thought was lost.
I am filled to the brim with gratitude. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll do another weaving-singing extravaganza like this. But that doesn’t mean I’m done. Who knows what will emerge next from LaraLandia? ¡Dále gas, 2020!