This weekend I took a long anticipated trip back to my home town, Blacksburg, Virginia. Here I linked up with my long time friend and internationally renowned Bass Player, F.M Turner. F.M is also the co-producer our my two albums, Bird Must Fly(2010) and Blessings on Your Journey (2014). We played two gigs this weekend, one at the Cellar Restaurant and Bar and one at the Anahata Educational Center in Floyd.

During my visit in VA, I investigated the current local issue of fighting the construction of a Gas Pipeline that is slated to be built in the backyard of many of my friends. The pipeline is slated to involved significant tracking and environmental destruction in order to mine and distribute natural gas to China and other international exports. It is clear that people are ready for alternative energy, and people are dedicated to protecting their land and their children’s future. The concern that Fracking and Pipeline construction poses a major environmental risk not only to the VA community, but to the entire country. Please visit the following website to learn more about how this issue will affect your community, your water quality and your children. I wrote an honorary new version of “Which Side Are You On”, in solidarity with the NRV Pipeline fight. 

We had the pleasure of our friend and singer songwriter Kevin Knight join us for opening sets in both concerts. Kevin has an incredibly wide vocal range with a dreamy and rich voice, his songs produce a classic sound, similar Neil Young and Townes Van Zandt .

The visit ends with a Pie Auction at tuesday night Gillies Restaurant in Blacksburg, where we will celebrate our community andraise money for efforts to end Mountain Top Removal. I am continuously impressed with this community, and their dedication to preserving the land and Appalachian heritage.  Thank you South West Virginia. You are clearly my home.

Something really important happened this weekend. I was invited to perform at a benefit concert on saturday afternoon for a 3 year old girl who is suffering from cancer. The night before I thought deeply about what I could bring to the situation as a clown, a musician, a beacon of joy perhaps. I wanted to engage Chiara and her family in a light and playful way, to lift their spirits and invite them into joy.

I prepared the song and an activity. “Magic Penny” (by Melvina Reynolds), brought a bag of pennies and instructed kids to hand out the pennies to the audience as I played the song. The rules of the game were , every time someone hands you a magic penny, find someone else to give it away to. The song says “Love is something if you give it away, you end up having more, its just like a magic penny, keep it for yourself and you don’t have any”.

As I sang, the audience giggled and passed the pennies around the room as I watched and sang with joy and excitement. It was amazing to see the energy in the room move in such away that facilitated exchange, movement, laughter and silliness.

Three weeks ago, someone gave me a Ukulele. I said to them “I don’t need this Ukulele, some little kid does.” Sternly, my friend responded ” you are the musician, YOU find a kid to give the Ukulele to! It means more that way!”

Dean was exactly right. That moment, the Ukulele was a “Magic Penny”. An act of love, made to be given away and shared. I kept the Ukulele for several weeks, waiting for the right person to give it to. When I was invited to play for Chiara, I knew the UKE was meant for her.

At the end of the Magic Penny game, I presented the Chiara with a soprano ukulele. It was a truly magical moment, that changed my life and my work as an artist.

I left the gig with the image of Chiara’s smiling eyes imprinted on my heart. I received so much love that day. And so, this is my new favorite game I call “the magic penny”, a gift of receiving is inseparable from the gift of giving.

I am so grateful for the opportunity to participate in this work, and moments like Chiara’s benefit concert, are how I learn more deeply what this work is about.

When battling cancer, illness of any kind, or grief there is a tendency in our medical system to focus on the symptoms and to focus on the downward spiral. Music, play and laughter give us other options. A way to honor the situation through transforming the energy through hope and joy. Even death calls for joy.

Any one have extra instruments and/or Ukulele’s laying around? I know a bunch more kids in hospitals who could use them.

I hope this story has inspired you.

Being the stealth folky networker that I am, I saw an opportunity for a song circle.

First action, to find out if I could get away with playing guitar and song sharing on the sight seeing train car…..

More Later…….

I just barely made the Am-Trak train, to make an all night journey to San Francisco.

The Am Trak proved to be a folky adventure. More on that later !

The rest of my stay in Asheville involved several lovely Farmers Market performances, at the Montford COmmunity Market and the North Asheville Tailgate Market. I love the bustle and colorful montage of community at Farmers Markets. We had several successful sing alongs and dance numbers with children and their parents passing by. Ate locally made tamales and basked in the shady Ash tree canopy at the UNCA Market. My Favorite aspect of the markets are the constant flow of people walking by, providing consistent opportunity for spontenaety and energetic family interactions. The movement of the crowd all around our performance, enables us to interact with our music in a truly unique way, and the excitement of family and friends gathering at the market to celebrate local food and crafts, is uplifting and good for the heart. I enjoy the movement of the crowd, a constrast to the sometimes stagnant environment of a “sit down” concert.

Later, in Blacksburg VA , my beloved place of birth, I played two concerts. One at the Vegetarian Restaurant, Gillies. and the following evening in Floyd, VA at the Dog Town Music Hall. Dog Town was a special treat. Bass Player F.M. Turner, my long time friend and very best music teacher, joined me for the concert. The music hall was packed with eager fans and locals, excited to see us. Our friend Billy joined us on stage with his Flute. The beauty of Flute, Upright bass, and Guitar/voice, took us on a journey of inspiration and vision. At the end of the night, the Dog Town asked us back for another show. Playing music with F.M turner just gets better and better. I couldn’t ask for a more talented and versatile musician to fit my also versatile and ever evolving style.

The tour finished with a sweet gig back in Asheville NC at the Firestorm Cafe and Bookstore. A small crowd that night, however, we had rich sing alongs and we were graced with the presence of Ballad Singer and Community Organizer Saro Lynch Thomason of the Blair Pathways project. Saro is one of my favorite musicians and song collectors in the Blue Ridge area, and she is the facilitator of the Bi-weekly Asheville Community Sing, a group that has changed my life and deeply inspired me to dig into musical Appalachian roots.  Blair Pathways works to “Celebrate Blair Mountain through Music”, basically an organization that seeks to protect Mountains and raise awareness about Mountain top removal through collections of stories and songs.  Truly inspiring and beautiful !  Please visit the website to learn about Cd that Blair Pathways is about to release , August 1st, a collection of songs about the mountains.

Now, back on the North West corner of the United States, I say farewell for now to my home in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and push my nose to the ground , writing new songs and enjoying the watery landscape.

I held onto my ukulele, and my backpack sat tight and heavy on my back as Sophia raced through afternoon motor bike traffic to the cities northern bus station. First we went to the central station, and realized we had 20 more minutes to ride in order to catch the right bus. “are you scared”, she said muffled through her helmet and we whizzed through traffic going the wrong way down a one way street. We jumped onto the sidewalk to make a short cut, just in time to catch a green light on the next street over. “are you scared” i replied. “im scared if you’re scared, otherwise i’m ok”. In Vietnam, there is no need to be scared, unless you see a Vietnamese person feel scared. The Vietnamese are perhaps the most fiercely fearless people I have ever encountered. They just keep going, even if it means wading through 4 feet of water with a stalled motor bike, piling 5 people on a motor bike to get across town, or driving a city bus through mud thick back roads at 11pm.  I just barely caught the bus to Duc Linh, accidentally leaving my water behind on my friends motor bike basket. As I looked out the window, i tried not cry. I felt vulnerable without water. I kept remembering the words of my friend in my head “be sure to bring water, because you will need it”. It was supposed to be a three hour bus ride, but in Vietnam you can estimate three hours to easily convert to 4 or 6. I sat wedged next two four people in the very back corner of the “bad bus”. I was sweating profusely, from running through the bus station to buy my ticket, and jumping on the tiny bus with my hikers backpack and blatant foreigner appearance. I sat quietly in the back, pretending not to be freaked out, trying to forget my thirst and praying that I would make it to Duc Linh. There are two buses to Duc Linh, or so I had heard. One is called the “good bus” and one is called the “bad Bus”.

So much to say, so little time to write it all down.

The magic continues to unfold. My second week in Vietnam, and I feel though I have experienced life times of love, friendship, food and adventure. Today I went to the swanky coffee shop on the corner, near my hotel in “foreigner town” . I caught the closest hotel I could find last night, because I had a busy day ahead of me in Ho Chi Minh City.  After the dynamic week of clowning with Humanitarian International and Geshundheit!, my dear new American friends and trip leaders Fungus and Skete (long time friends and clown staff of Geshundheit! and dear teachers of the how to maintain the spirit of love) left with five other clowns who visited Vietnam for the one week session of clowning and caring in the City.

We had a dynamic and eye opening experience here in Ho Chi Minh. From the anarchy chaos of the motor-bike traffic, monsoon rains at night, kaereoke songs floating across the air on weekends, the occasional lost bus driver on back roads making circles,  the unexpected moments when our clowns showed at a hospital expecting to sit by bedsides and to our surprise a DJ was set up and a stage cleared for us so that we marionettes to jazzy disco music for the cheering lobby spectators. When we tried to sneak off “stage” to find hospital beds, we were herded back into the crowd. Here I took the opportunity to encourage near by children to perform acrobatics and break dancing (this took the pressure off of me). In those moments of forced slap stick theater, it was obvious that our mission for bedside clowning had been lost in translation between the organizers and the hospital administration. Or perhaps it was more convenient for the hospital staff to keep us contained in a cage of disco music, where we could be watched and where we would not see the actual hospital conditions.

Last friday, the American clown group left for home, and I remained here in Ho Chi Minh City, gudied by my new Vietnamese friends whose care and guidance extended into a motherly spiritual guidance. My first day alone in the city, I cried. My journal entry reads “Day one Melt Down”.  I felt  sad to loose the group as I packed my bag to prepare for moving into a new hotel. Suddenly I had to make many choices on my own. No set schedule, no bus driver to guide me every day, no group of english speaking americans to tell me what is next. Seemingly, II was being stripped of my hemogeonized padded room in a unfamiliar City of over 8 million people.  I questioned what I had set myself up for. For a moment, fear passed through my body. Fear that was coupled with sub-concious emotional burnout from the intensive days of clowning the week before. However, I decided to face this fear. The fear of the unknown. The fear of losing confidence in my “false sense” of security. Participating in social work as a caring clown has taught me so much about this fear, the fear of getting close. This fear not only involves getting close to other people. It is also the fear of closeness to oneself and ones intuition.

My first night in the hotel, I took my ukulele down to the lobby to perform for the matriarch family members of “Lili” the friendly hotel manager. They clapped and laughed and in exchange for my songs, gave me lesson in counting in ten in Vietnamese. Lili always sings after 6pm”, said one of the backpackers who’d been at the hotel for two nights. After meeting Lili’s relatives, It was clear that her enthusiam for song and dance was genetic.

One of the cultural aspects that I admire the most in Vietnamese Culture is the family unit remains very close and connected. Most commonly, all family members including children and elders remain living together until death or marriage. One day after resting in a hotel in the city,  I took a bus to Muine Beach, a small town just outside of Phan Thiet. The actual town where I stay was called “Hampton”. The REAL Muine where most locals lived, was situated about 12 Kilometers down the road from Hampton on a little fishing port. For the sake of tourist attraction, Hampton is reffered to as “Muine”.  Aside from a few whose houses are situated in the tourist district, many locals only come to the fake “muine” to work at a restaurant, a resort, a toursit company, or to sell fruits or souvenir. According to a motor-bike driver “Thanh” whom I spoke with during a monsoon rain storm at a book store, locals are often forbidden by resorts to swim on the beaches or sometimes lcoals are forbidden to mingle at the bars with tourists. “They are the people of this place. They live here. This is their home. And they are not allowed”, said Thahn with a compassionate distressed tone in his voice. As the rain poured down and the power cut off, rain filled the streets and quickly formed a lake. The ocean waves crashed heavily, sounding much like dump truck pouring gravel.

Thahn and I sat in the dark on small plastic chairs underneath a slightly leaky tin roof. At first I felt concerned that we would be washed away by a huge wave created by the fierce storm. None of the Vietnamese looked concerned, so I contained my nervous reaction and sat down to listen as my new friend Thahn told stories about the life of a local in the Muine area. Thahn explained that many people work long hours every day for very little pay, at resorts whom charge tourists up to 200$ a night for stay, workers can make as little at 50$ dollars per MONTH for a full time job at the same resort. Meanwhile, tourist often leave no tip for waiters because it is “not custom in Vietnam” for tipping.  My advice to travelers; Leave a tip and gain some good Karma while have to opportunity, what are you going to with that extra 25 cents anyway? Due to the drastic dollar difference between US$ and Dong, Tourists practically treat Vietnamese Dong like Monopoly game money. 5,000 of Dong is close to 6 cents in US dollars. So, many tourists take home a 100,000 dollar bill for a wall hanging souvenir, mean-while many Vietnamese workers only make 100,000 for 10-12 hours of work.  Yet another way that I am blown away by the class differences that stretch across the world.

Though I too am somewhat of a tourist, I try my best to distinguish myself from the typical tourist by smiling and waving to locals, making eye contact, at the very least, making an effort to acknowledge their humanity as they persistently attempt to sell me something on the street.  This acknowledgement or humanity, is something that I feel many socially privileged people feel little obligation to do.  So with this observation, my new practice is to be friendly whenever possible. I can’t promise that I always accomplish this friendly disposition in my moments of neurotic self-indulgence. Sometimes I too turn away from pan handlers on the street, for my own convenience and self “protection”.

I have to go now, today I catch a bus to Duc Linh, to work for one week in a small town.  If you appreciate what you hear from my blog, please write me at ashdevinebooking@gmail.com, and make a donation through on the first page of my website. I am requesting donations for aid in my transportation, food and lodging, as I continue two more weeks of volunteer clowning and music therapy in hospitals, orphanges and shelters for handicapped in Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam.   More Later. Blessings.