Freedom is this magical state that I long to live in 100% of the time. Not the sort of freedom that means I do whatever I want when I want to (as screaming out loud would not be acceptable in a business meeting or at 3am when my roommates are sleeping).

I’m after the sort of freedom that means I don’t walk around with invisible shackles. The freedom that says I am no longer condemned, that I am a new creation and that a really massive galaxy-eating God would invite me to his dinner table even if my shoes were muddy.

I should have thought about this a little more last weekend when I drove to the beach for some alone time. I sat there watching the scattered surfers, while everything in me was aching to get out of the car and just run around like a little kid. Kick up the waves with my feet, run into the water with my clothes on and drink one or two bottles of sugary (not diet) Coke. I wanted to swim out to the surfers and say, “Hi! Would you like to be my friend?” Instead I just got out of my car and walked pensively towards the water, trying to look like the deep thinking beach-wanderers I see in movies.

Freedom doesn’t mean without boundaries. It just means that next time I’m at that same beach, I’ll make some new friends. Oh, and it also means that I’m not remotely embarrassed about my loud drive home from the city this morning.

In honor of all of it, the working titles for my latest paintings will be a little less confining.

This one is called: AHHHHHHHHH!

This one is called: WOOOOOHOOOOOO!!!!!!

And this one is called: sugary (not diet) Coke

Just now, I saw the guy from Brazil walk by. I gave him a ride a few weeks ago and he reminds me a little of James Dean. Especially today with that black leather jacket.

And just just now, I decided to buy the new Augustana album, “Can’t Love, Can’t Hurt”. Every time I listen to Augustana, I pretend I’m in California. I pretend I’m driving along the coast in San Francisco. And I pretend that I’m still a kid without responsibilities, that all loves are first loves and that I’m about to dip my toes in the Pacific for the first time.

I really need to pay my rent.

The little clay bird in this video reminds me of the very first Christmas present I ever gave him: a blue parakeet we named Buddy. I write fondly about our little pet in this early post.

We didn’t talk about much of anything. Donuts. Photography. The old couple walking past us. Whether or not we’d missed the 10:16am train to the Blue Mountains. Being here has made the world seem much smaller, much more accessible.

And since being here, I’ve also noticed that most people from most continents like cinnamon donuts for breakfast.

I think that those of us who have adventurous spirits secretly like the idea of leaving everything behind. We have this glamorous picture of starting fresh in a new place, where people are different, scenery is different and (in my case) there are hundreds of white, sandy beaches beckoning.

What I’ve learned in just a few weeks, though, is that no matter where I am (living weightlessly on the moon or studying in beautiful Australia), I’ll always be Leora. I will always originally be from West Texas. I will always be the daughter of a teacher and businessman, the granddaughter of a seamstress and sheriff and 11 months older than my very tall brother. I will always have memories of desert thunderstorms and swimming with catfish in natural springs. I will always be the girl who cut her hair down to an inch and dyed it white, then purple when turning 18. And I’ll always be the girl who quit her job, sold her possessions and moved from Colorado Springs, CO to eastern Australia to study music at Hillsong’s Leadership College in 2008 (a school and church I’d only just learned existed a few months prior to getting on the 16 hour flight).

Moving overseas and leaving friends/family behind hasn’t changed me. Seeing the opposite shores of the Pacific Ocean hasn’t transformed my life or sanded off all my rough edges. And having the rare opportunity to make a thousand first impressions all over again hasn’t prompted me to come up with new ways of introducing myself. I still just say, “Hi. I’m Leora. It’s nice to meet you.”

It took me moving across the planet to realize that the quality of my life is most dependent on my perspective and how I step into and move around in my tomorrows (not where I am). I’ll always be Leora. Right now, I’m Leora in Australia. And from my perspective, it’s absolutely beautiful here.

Painting for Andy turned into one of my favorite projects. I realized how much more fun it is to paint for others (no, not paint by numbers… paint for others). Mainly because you’re asked to step outside of yourself, to think way less about what you love and much more about how to please another person. I think that’s where creativity can really shine–when you aim to capture the hearts of other people with your work.

Here’s Andy’s painting (sideways):

Our good friend Gavin Harrison (a self-made musical prodigy out of the UK) was given kudos for his production/arrangement of the song, “Perspective.” We’re hoping to work more closely with Gavin (aka “Gridlocked”) over this next year. Although we’ve never met in person, technology has made it so easy to collaborate from across the world.

I was also so flattered (read: jumping up and down) by the following:

I enjoyed the punchy percussion and raspy vocals of “Moving Backwards,” a rich rail against life’s occasional futility. Another standout is the poignant “Breakable on the Inside,” a perceptive portrayal of the fragility of our facades. Beautifully arranged, Caylor’s hushed vocals ride a rich bed of sparkling keys and Leora Gardner’s tender violin solo. Its evocative lyrics are also worthy of mention: “My heart is held together by all this skin/ What used to feel like leather is wearing thin/ Cause I know how it feels to be breakable on the inside When the outside looks so right.

We’re all (Jeff, Gavin and I) working on new music, so encouraging reviews like this continue to light our little “creative fires.”

But first, a little history. Not many people can say (or should admit) that they stumbled across Bob Dylan’s beautiful/haunting songs through their obsession with The Wallflowers. I saw Jakob Dylan (Wallflowers’ front man and Bob’s son) on the cover of Rolling Stone back in the late ’90’s and still have that dusty magazine tucked away in an old trunk at my parents’ house. I fell in love with his eyes and his songs and can still sing every word to “6th Avenue Heartache” and “One Headlight.” Here’s a screen shot of my prized possession:

I eventually learned that Jakob had a dad and that his dad was Bob Dylan (born Bob Zimmerman). And then my eyes were opened to the music that scored the better part of the 60’s and 70’s. And this music, songs like “All Along the Watch Tower” and “Blowin’ in the Wind”, are the reason for this post.

This Thursday night, Luke Flowers and The Zimmermans (I am, in fact, a “Zimmerman”) will be performing an entire set of Bob Dylan songs at Pikes Perk. Our 7 piece band will start around 7pm. This will just warm you up for the soon-to-be-released biopic movie. As always, Luke has designed a killer poster that further depicts the striking similarities between son (above) and father (below):

I’m fortunate enough to have the inside scoop on the album and all the behind-the-scenes work Jeff has put into making big time music industry folks aware of his independent release (produced by himself, sometimes in an insulated closet).

Jeff’s not into magic and hasn’t spent much time crossing his fingers in hopes that his music would prick the ears of reputable critics. He’s just worked really, really hard. I’ve driven with him to the post office to drop off countless letters and make-shift press kits, addressed boldly to every music magazine and mogul that he could think of. Friends of distant friends, radio stations and shots in the dark.

I’d like to say that I prepared many delicious meals for him as he worked on his album, but I don’t really like to cook. I mainly just try to make him laugh with funny faces and run up and down his stairs with Reggie (as seen below on Jeff’s head).

(I also know that he’s working on his second album. Still kind of a secret.)

I don’t believe we’re supposed to live like that. With low expectations for joy.

And I was reminded of this yesterday morning. I was playing my violin/singing with the worship band for my church. It was very early and our practice had been challenging, leaving me feeling somewhat unprepared for the 6 sets we had to play.

Just as the first set started, I noticed something fluttering around me (in and out of the beams from the bright lights). Turns out it was a big orange butterfly that had somehow entered the building (in cold Colorado morning weather). The butterfly landed right at my feet, relaxed his wings and stuck around for the entire first set. I move a lot when I play, so I was amazed that the butterfly didn’t fly away with two heeled boots threatening his life for 30 minutes.

My perspective shifted as a continued to play. Instead of focusing on the music and transitions, I was reminded that worship is much less about preparation than it is about the winsome calls of a really beautiful God who loves us.

I think it was the fact that something so simple and so misplaced, a lost butterfly that passed up everyone else in the auditorium for me, served as a reminder that no circumstances should rob us of our joy.