Songs & Strings Tour Journal Autumn 2002, West Coast Michael DeLalla & Andrew McKnight November 4, 2002: The Journey Home

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And so it ends. Nestled on a full cross-country flight from Washington to Washington, elbow to elbow with a plane full of people. It is an interesting phenomenon being an independent artist. So much survival by word of mouth, so much the well-kept secret, so far beneath the commercial entertainment radar. And yet somehow we are coming home with enough money in our pockets to pay the bills. Each person who finds the energy and interest to get up off the couch, tired from the hectic pace of their life to come hear live music performed by people they probably have never heard of, is truly a gift in my view. And collectively, you add up to making it possible to keep building an audience big enough to support our careers. On this long flight home, that fact warms my heart.

Every tour leaves me changed. A metamorphosis of the soul happens, born of the people, the places, the experiences good and bad. I departed on this journey in a rare state for me, deeply wounded from grief and anxiety; I return still wounded perhaps, but well on the mend and spiritually renewed. In a sense, I guess I found whatever it was I was looking for out here. i'm not sure I'll ever know exactly what that was. Sometimes it just takes stepping out of your own way.

We have had an unusually easy morning. By serendipity's sake, our 1 am motel stop last night after the long post-concert drive from Portland wound up being 2 doors down from UPS, so shipping home unsold CDs turned out to be less than the usual ordeal. And our noon thirty flight meant that the I-5 commuter traffic cleared enough for a smooth ride to the airport. Plenty of time for coffee, a bagel and a newspaper, almost like normal people do on their way to their daily routine.

A haze-shrouded Mt. Rainier graced our view stepping out the motel room door this morning. That peak seems to always be a grounding place for me. I first set foot on this massive mountain as a small boy on a cross-country trip with his parents in a VW Bus. I have returned several times as an adult, and find each return more connective and powerful than the last. Its dominant visage overlooking a third of the state Washington seems to be a "magnetic north" for me. And I am grateful for the direction and clarity.

Out the plane window to the south the mountains of eastern Washington and northern Idaho are covered in early snow under bright sunny skies. Somehow I seem to be lucky with most flights back East being blessed with great weather and scnery. It still amazes me even after this 4.700 mile+ driving odyssey how quickly the American landscape changes and shifts when moving even short distances. A few metaphorical steps to either side and one's perspective can be radically changed. The very laws of physics that frustrate me looking through the camera lens are the very essence of the human journey to me. Nothing can compare to the wide angles and brilliant hues of our planet through the naked eye. A simple change of perspective, simply by being willing to step aside a few paces and get out of my own shadow.

It has been a challenge and a delight to have shared these past 3 weeks so openly with you. I will miss the camaraderie and music with my dear pal the Senor. I already miss all the lovely people that we have met and shared steps with on this journey. It is important for me to say once again how much I am personally touched by your continued interest in my words and music, your willingness to come to the occasional concert, and to spread the word to friends and family about this secret underground world of music that I live in. So long as you are one of the bricks in this less-traveled yellow brick road, my way will never be too hard. Thank you for sharing the journey.

Andrew