my back pocket

Wrote a new song this morning. The catalyst was #15 on my friend Rachelle’s “25 things …” list on Facebook: “I wish my girlfriend Wendy lived in my back pocket. I know she could coach me through some obvious stuff I'm missing about life as an expat.”

This reminded me of something Dara said on the way to Eyebrow, then wrote about on our tour blog: “I told Colleen that I need her in my back pocket because she laughs at my jokes and sense of humour.”

The song is inspired by 2 particular people, but the more I sing it the more I think about lots of other people, hence the bridge!

Suddenly, a song was born. It’s a bit light-hearted yet sentimental. The style is somewhat inspired by Lisa Loeb; I've been listening to her lots lately. Probably needs some work, but I’ll post it anyhow. Find it here: http://www.siretona.com/MyBackPocket.html.

new guitar: Elya

I used some of my Minus 40 Tour earnings for a new guitar last week and gave ‘her’ a name: Elya.

The group Silverwind used to sing a song about a woman named Elya behind the iron curtain teaching children to sing and to pray, even though she risked jail or worse.

My mom used to sing this song to me as I was growing up and thinking of going to a similar country. (These types of countries are now known as Creative Access Nations.)

My Yamaha has served me well since 1996.



I learned a lot with her and she will continue to serve me well in teaching guitar lessons (her name is Liabella after two of my students) and in less professional settings, but she was resisting some of my new music, especially songs with bar chords.

Elya, on the other hand, loves those songs from the start. Rosewood back and sides give her warm tones, and her spruce top and bracing give her some nice percussive qualities, so our voices are complementary - a perfect companion for a traveling minstrel.

And true to her Russian namesake who would "teach them to sing," Elya has inspired several songs already, by me and other people.



Elya, my elegant new Larrivée.

diction, breathing, and liberties

Aretha Franklin at the inauguration of Barak Obama … she sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” and took a breath in the middle of many words and phrases! E.g., “coun[breath]try” and “fa[breath]thers” etc. I guess she’s earned the right to take liberties like that.

Hmmm. “Take liberties.” I guess that’s kind of metaphorical, isn’t it? Especially on this historic day.

p.s. How did the instrumentalists keep their hands warm enough to perform so well after sitting outside for more than half an hour?

the weight of freedom

My mom once wrote a song (I don’t know if she finished it) with these words:

Roses round the door, babies on the floor,

who could ask for anything more in Sleepy Valley?

Sometimes dreams would come a-knocking

Couldn’t let ‘em in ‘cause we were rockin’

Rocking chairs and lullabies …

I can’t remember the rest, but the idea is about seasons of life. When children are small life your options are significantly limited, but when you and your kids are older you’re free to “rock” in other ways. As a single person with no kids or even a spouse, I have so much freedom. Sometimes I have felt the weight of too much freedom.

Dara and I have been loving our tour so far: one weekend down, three to go. There was even a glimmer of hope that this could be an ongoing and indefinite partnership. Yet, we are having to face some facts that this season of Dara's life is not conducive to regular touring. This season gives her fertile ground for creativity and she is writing some gorgeous songs, but she is not free to come and go easily. Parenting is more important than singing right now.

I can easily forget that parents of young kids don’t just have limitations and responsibilities, but their desires go in other directions – towards babies and spouses. I don’t mind being reminded about that. And in many ways, I envy her anchored, clearly defined life. But it’s not my season. Who knows if it ever will be.

My season is about singing release to nations. As Dara and I work together, I am getting a clearer picture of her life in Pelican Narrows, of the everyday pain she witnesses, the needs she meets, the love she gives. Like a song I used to sing as a kid and still like to revisit:

Love is something if you give it away, give it away, give it away
Love is something if you give it away, you end up having more.
It's just like a magic penny, hold on tight and you won't have any
Lend it spend it and you'll have so many they'll roll all over the floor,
For love is something if you give it away, give it away, give it away
Love is something if you give it away, you end up having more.

Her love spills and rolls all over the floor. And her love is to be located, for now, in her home in Pelican Narrows.

My love? It is also specifically located. My locale is Strasbourg and area, where I keep house and otherwise try to help my brother, write for the newspaper and teach guitar. Yet I have also been given freedom to travel on weekends to tell stories and sing songs that will bring release to nations. To the First Nations of Canada. To orphans in China. To the lost children in Uganda. To refugees from Burma. To my neighbour.

Not only do I have freedom, I have a responsibility to do the things to which I am called and not snivel about things I do not have. Sniveling like that is to give in to the temptation of acedia.

In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
(Wordsworth, from "Nuns Fret Not")

It is past time for me to be bound within the song's "scanty plot of ground." To sing release to nations (rather than commit to a spouse and/or bring up babies) "no prison is." Surrender is solace.

"I'm living out the life that I was given, but baby I still wish you were mine." (Amy Grant)

I thought that you would stay here
And listen as I discovered my voice
I hope you're watching
When I am standing, declaring my choice
To take my calling, now I am following
After resisting far too long

I am a poetess ...

(Colleen Taylor, "Poetess")

Minus 40 Tour: Songs to Warm Your Soul

During the month of January, my friend Dara Hallett and I will be on tour. We're calling it the Minus 40 Tour. If you're in or near Regina, Moose Jaw, Weyburn, and other points within an hour of there, we would love to see you at an event.

I'm excited to meet new and old friends and share some of my new music. Especially exciting: the chance to share "Child of My Heart," a song that Dara and I co-wrote with my cousin Lisa for OptionS Pregnancy Centre in Regina. Lisa and I sang it at a benefit banquet in November, and now Dara and I will extend it's reach.

I am dreaming of spearheading a recording project that includes "Child of My Heart" with lullabies (like All Through the Night and I See the Moon) and original songs/recordings by Saskatchewan musicians in ministry. This project would have the express purpose of raising funds and awareness for OptionS and would have the lovely task of encouraging and soothing parents and children and their friends and families.

Well, I should finish packing my van and hit the road. Dara is waiting for me in Regina!

a love-home

Below is today’s email from God at Eventide. Somehow it reminded me of Margaret Epp. In an interview just a few months before her death, I asked Miss Epp what she had been hearing from the Lord recently and she replied, “Be still and know that I am God.” She was not “old age, ever refusing to answer … [who] hears me no more, and sits silent and alone.” Certainly Miss Epp felt alone, distant from her writing life and from people who cared about her writing. Yet, she still heard and communed with the Lord. Her heart was his Love-Home. May it also be so for me.

A Love-Home

Hush earth's desires that you miss not My Footfall. It brings the strength of a warrior and the eagerness of a Lover.

Let your heart thrill with the glad, "He comes." Forsake all thought but the thought of Me as I enter. Soul-rest and heart-comfort I bring. Forget all else.

Let Me lift the burden from your shoulders, My burden, borne for you. Here in quiet, we will rest, while you are reinvigorated.

Poor dwelling, you feel, for the King of Kings. Yet I see your Home of Love as Love has made it. I come from locked doors, where youth is trying to live without Me; where old age, ever refusing to answer My pleading and knocking, now hears Me no more, and sits silent and alone.

Comfort Me, My children. Make of your hearts a Love-Home for the Man of Sorrows, still so often despised and rejected of men. Yet I would turn their sorrow into joy.