Oh baby! Are you on for the ride?

Worlds are currently being rocked by whatever force you think rocks them.  Because this newsletter does not discriminate on the basis of religious beliefs, of course, let’s not use the term universe, or source, or God, or G-d, or whatever.  I prefer the very creepy concept of the invisible hand.  Forget that the invisible hand typically applies to supposedly “free markets,” if that even can exist in this reality.  We can debate capitalism another day.  Today, though, we are going to steal this creepy but non-denominational idea, and run full effing steam ahead.  (Gotta keep it PG.)

Yep, that’s the hand.

Anyway, thank you for that diversion.  If anything needed to be cleaned out, thrown away, flicked, punched, wet-willied, just generally given the heave-ho…well, the invisible hand has been working overtime.   

Death is everywhere.  I’m speaking mostly metaphorically, but there have been some tragic exceptions (none of which have been my loved ones, thankfully).

This week, a place that I have called home for many years now, Lost Spirits Distillery, which moved from LA to Las Vegas, is closing its doors.  To say I’m heartbroken is an understatement.  I think it will it take me a while to fully process the loss of a place that has been a creative beacon for me and to many many people.  In one small example, if it weren’t for Lost Spirits, I would not have my alter-ego Daisy.  My first electroswing song was something I made for a Lost Spirits commercial (and played on a loop in the airport, which I thought was pretty fun to watch while waiting for my bags). 

One of the qualities of Lost Spirits that made it so special is that it was a living, breathing work of art.  It took its influences from not only the people before it, but also from its surroundings, the visitors, the performers, of course, and even the personality and talents of their head distiller.  It’s been an example to all of us of what is possible when people come together and work to create magic.  The magic becomes real.

So, invisible hand, if I could flip you the bird, instead of the other way around, I would.  But in the meantime, I’m going to work to remember, as best as I can, how special this place is, and bring it into all my work going forward, as best as I can.

I’m reminded of a quote that has meant so much to me, after a mentor of mine was living with Lou Gehrig’s disease.  He finally became a writer, later in life, and actually did the thing - he published two books, and many essays.  He died in 2014 at 65.  He, in his essay, “Why We Write,” for Poets & Writers Magazine, wrote about the meaning of life from such a unique perspective. Inspired by a quote from Alice James, “life seems inconceivably rich,” he explains:

I’m not going to win any literary awards or see my name on best-seller lists, but writing has been a perfect antidote to get me through this madness because it allows me to contribute something to the world rather than begin every sentence I utter by asking for help. … I’ll be telling my grandson a story. What more could I ask of life?

Love always,

Lauren

PS. Endings mean rebirth. Today, my friends and I are birthing a progressive house banger for you, called Goodbye. Swear to the invisible hand, I didn’t plan that.

THANKS FOR READING!