***new song***

hail

i like the way you came into my life

and i like the way you pull back your hair

you got a wicked thing with the way you move

you got a magic thing with the way you stare

uh huh uh huh, uh huh uh huh

they say hail falls from the skies

they say love starts in our eyes

i see it in your eyes

i see it in your eyes

i see it in your eyes

my heart was left lyin' on the floor

you picked it up and healed it slow

so so slow

you got a wonderful thing with the way you smile

you got a witty thing with the words you know

uh huh uh huh, uh huh uh huh

they say hail falls from the skies

they say love starts in our eyes

i see it in your eyes

i see it in your eyes

i see it in your eyes

i know we may not have much time

and this dust ain't yours and it ain't mine

but damn it's fine, fine, fine

we got a lovely thing with the way we love

we got a bright, bright thing with the way we shine.

they say hail falls from the skies

they say love starts in our eyes

i see it in our eyes

i see it in our eyes

i see it in our eyes

3 fun facts.

1.) My urine looks like bubble bath. Bubbles. Bubbles. Bubbles.

2.) Ethan, my drummer, created a percussion section that includes the snare of a banjo, a xylophone, an acordian, a "piano-blower", and a top hat.

3.) I've written 2 new songs in the past week that are all about being smitten with someone. They feel damn good AND they feel authentic.

An Outline (in paragraphs)

Dear Blog,

I've been neglecting you. But you have been on my mind. I just haven't found the time to get to you. There's so much to say, type. I feel the keys under my fingertips and wonder whether I can get it all out. Hence, I shall make an outline. Of my health. And of my music.

I. Health

a. Healing with Eastern Medicine.

1. Dr. Keith Jordan. I experienced the most radical, life-changing experience I have ever had at the hands of a doctor. I have seen him weekly or bi-weekly since August 26th and have more faith in my body and spirit than I have ever had before. I have not been healed of my kidney disease, per say, but I believe I have been healed in ways that make me more ready than ever to embrace the road that lies ahead of me. There's something to be said when a complete stranger can put his hands on you and know the damage that exists within you, both physically and spiritually, and can articulate specifics of that damage. I spent my first hour with him in tears, feeling so much being removed from me while trying desperately to understand how he knew what he knew about my life and my history. He repeated, "I don't know how I know, but I do know I'm meant to heal you from these things." And he continued. And has for almost two months. Much of the focus has been on managing my immune system, and redirecting how my body handles itself. Ironically, the physical nature of my own immune system fighting my body mimics the battle I have had with my sense of self. It's almost poetic how rejection is not just an immune concept, but a concept I've battled in trying to accept my self, love, relationships, my music, acting, my family. As Dr. Jordan put it, "you have battled an infection of rejection." Now, as I prepare for a new kidney, it's more important than ever that I get this infection out and embrace, rather than reject, what the Universe offers me. My body needs to get used to taking in what is good for it, new kidney and all. I believe I'm in training--boot camp for a kidney transplant. And the core work out for my spirit consists of flushing out fear and rejection--because those are/can be deadly things. I've been working on letting go of a lot, because holding on to what is dead and/or diseased did much more harm than good. I am feeling better. Yes, I am fatigued. Yes, I am experiencing edema and yes, it's ugly. Yes, I don't go out nearly as much as I'd like and I often have to cancel plans because my body can't handle what it could just a year ago. And yes, this is rough. But I'm damn certain I am more ready than ever, more open than ever, and more loved than ever (by myself and others) and that, to me, is a picture of good health. Good health takes a lot of work, and I think much of it comes from the work I have done at the hands of Dr. Jordan.

b. Healing with Western Medicine.

1. Transplant Team. On November 15th, I will spend the day at the Cleveland Clinic having tests and meeting my Transplant Team. The Transplant Team consists of a nephrologist, a urologist, a social worker, a financial adviser, and a core gang of my loved ones. Yes, I said gang. My kidney posse. It's going to be a long day. But a very important day, full of big information that I am preparing myself for. I'm an emotional being, and there's a lot that's going to be put on the table. I know this because just last month I was at a routine appointment and was talking with my doctor about childbearing and he said, with deep compassion, that once I have a transplant, I will no longer be able to bear children. Ouch. And still ouch. I think I had convinced myself that I would be healthy enough post-transplant to have a child. However, anti-rejection drugs (see this rejection crap I got going on) necessary to maintain a new kidney would destroy any potential pregnancy. So, I was told I could get pregnant now and be in a high-risk pregnancy. Or never be pregnant. Not the easiest pill to swallow. And it's still kinda caught in my throat, so let's move on. Once this transplant meeting occurs, the "find a donor" campaign will officially begin. I think I may put together a concert to kick things off. My health and music continue to coincide.

II. Music

a. My Band. Every Wednesday and Saturday I get together with two very fun, quirky, talented guys. Here is a list of potential ideas for what we will call ourselves:

Maura Rogers and....

the 21st century
the Western Reserve
the Trigger
the Winsome Losers
the Atomic Sky
Bloodshot Moon
the Sexiest Band in the World
Hammerstein
the Second Edition
the Phantom of the Amusement Park

the Situation
the Remains
the Regulars
the Maladies
the Graveyard Shift
the Night Hawks

It's been an extremely fun process, getting to know them and building relationships with them. They make me laugh A LOT. Which is refreshing, considering how serious I can be as a singer-songwriter. I'm realizing that at the core of every good band is a group of people that genuinely respect and admire one another. And I truly feel they admire and respect the music I've put on the table. THAT feels soooo good. It's been extremely different from the work I've done as a solo singer-songwriter. I find myself navigating my way through the sounds, loving it for the most part, but feeling overwhelmed at times by the choices that come into play when there's more people and sounds than just little me with a guitar. We are learning all 30 of my songs and are planning to play out in December for the first time. Soon, there will be some recordings on my myspace to give you a taste of what we sound like.

b. CD's. I've sold all my cd's from my first order--a very nice thing to report. I'm working on getting onto CDbaby and/or Reverb Nation. Brent (my bassist) has designed a website for me and we hope to get that up and running in the next month or so. Slowly, but surely, this musical journey continues.

III. Conclusion

a. Life is Good. Healing can be hard work and music can be hard work. But nothing worthwhile was ever done easy. I find that the more I invest in the things I love (even when they are challenging) the healthier I feel--mind, body, and spirit.

a day, sick in bed, makes for a new poem.

hibiscus

Rushing to work, stabbing sidewalks with my heels
I pass a hibiscus blossoming.

I get to my car, ready for the rat race, but stop.

My hands fumble through a bag.
Somewhere among the bills, the books, the planner, the keys, the loose change
there is a camera.

(A hibiscus blossoming out of cement
whispered to me.
I could have pretended not to hear.
I could have kept on with my day,
with my busy thoughts about education,
fair-trade coffee,
the horrible sadness of father’s nursing home,
the oil spill,
the ex who already took enough time and thought.
I could have played deaf and drowned in the noise within my head.

I chose to listen.

I chose to listen to you,
blossoming hibiscus,
because I have learned that you are my Mark, my Matthew, Luke, John, etc.
You are the moment that calls me to pause.

You are the moment my head turns before my car turns into a child rushing into the street.

You are the moment a stranger grabs me to say,“a twenty is slipping from your back pocket.”

You are the moment a friend confides her love and support for me, with sweaty palms and sweaty eyes.

You are the moment my mother offers to share her cemetery plot with me, just in case.

You are the moment a lover’s skin presses mine and every wall I have crumbles.
You are the moment my father grabs my hand and weeps.
You are the moment a healer’s hands drift over my body.
You are the moment I ignored sitting in church, debating the authenticity of memorized prayer.

You are the moment someone shares her flesh to make more moments possible.

You, hibiscus, are my god.
You are a moment among many moments that remind me to stop.)

I went back and took a picture.
You are page 289,990 in my bible.

better days

I went and saw a healer on Thursday. Dr. Keith Jordan. I really don't have words for what happened, but what I can say is this: I feel as though I experienced something Divine...something beyond human understanding. Words won't do it justice, so I can't really offer any. But I heard this song again, and wanted to share the lyrics and the link. Because, in light of the struggles I have with my health, I feel more in line with the Universe than I ever have before.

Enjoy.

Better Days
-Eddie Vedder

I feel part of the universe open up to meet me
My emotion so submerged, broken down to kneel in
Once listening, the voices they came
Had to somehow greet myself, read myself
Heard vibrations within my cells, in my cells
Singing, "Ah-la-ah-ah, ah-la-ah-ah"

My love is safe for the universe
See me now, I'm bursting
On one planet, so many turns
Different worlds
Singing, "Ah-la-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah, ah"

Fill my heart with discipline
Put there for the teaching
In my head see clouds of stairs
Help me as I'm reaching
The future's paved with better days

Not running from something
I'm running towards the day
Wide awake

A whisper once quiet
Now rising to a scream
Right in me

I'm falling, free falling
Words calling me
Up off my knees

I'm soaring and, darling,
You'll be the one that I can need
Still be free

Our future's paved with better days

Gratitude

So I've been in the thick of what I thought was a flu for the past four-six weeks. Feeling fatigue, no appetite, and when food does go in, it goes out even faster. A perfect crash diet? Not so much. I've already lost 15 lbs in the last 6 months and don't really want to lose any more.

So I did the responsible thing and went in to see my PCP last week, thinking that maybe I can't shake this "flu bug" and mentioned that in addition to the above symptoms, my urine looks as bubbly as poorly poured beer. Bubbles and foam have always been present in my pee...but when I showed my mom/nurse on Sunday (after my show at the Beachland) she and I both concurred: "that's not good."

Oh yes, my show at the Beachland...let's talk about that first! Despite the fact that I was functioning on nothing but gatorade and a few peanuts (nothing remained in my stomach since 7 a.m. that morning) the show averaged in at about a 7 for me. I was weak. And it was honestly the most challenging show I've done--even worst than the shows where I felt like an emotional, vulnerable wreck. It's been over a year since I've forgotten song lyrics, but that night I was toe-tapping through one of my new songs and went completely blank. I will say that I pulled it off--it felt like a crisis, but I kept on charging through and completed that song with vigor. But from that point on (it was the beginning of the show when it occurred) I felt like I was walking a very thin line between collapsing or losing all my integrity as a performer and walking off the stage. I really admire Catherine Feeny tho and knew I had to stick it out. And I got through, knowing as a performer I didn't deliver my best. But I did deliver what I could, and this is what I've come to peace with. Dearest Lauren came and snuggled me up after my set and I realized from the love that poured from her that she was just as concerned about me as I was. I wasn't well, and she knew it. I knew it. And all that knowing meant I knew it was time to check in with the doctor.

So I checked in with him and he checked off a checklist of labs to determine what's going on, and then he connected with my Nephrologist, who also added to that checklist.

And now the news.

Turns out I've lost more kidney function. In fact, in the last two months, I've lost more function than I did in the year. And suddenly things that were never flagged abnormal in my blood are flagged. Creatine continues to escalate, which I'm used to. But now BUN is abnormal. And now my GFR is 24.

24.

I had a moment on Saturday after I got the news, where I was washing my face and started to cry. I looked in the mirror and said, "this is going to happen. You have a chronic disease, and it's going to keep getting worse." And I tried to stop myself from crying, pushing down the knot in the back of my throat as hard as I could. Because this is to be expected-I've got to just accept that this is going to happen. Right? Sort of. It is going to happen, but to deny myself the emotions that go along with this happening is just plain silly. I am an emotional woman and I'm damn proud of the fact that I can feel as deeply as I do. I'm not about to not feel my way through this. So I went back to washing my face with soap and tears and said out loud, "girl, let it out. Own these tears."

And damn did I own that cry. It felt damn good.

After it felt damn good, I thought about a letter I literally received the night before. A friend sent me a letter and articulated her desire and commitment to be my kidney donor. Now I've had plenty of people say they'll give me a kidney, but I've never had someone take the time to express their love and support so beautifully as she did in her letter. I felt an array of so many emotions when I read this letter. Something dawned on me.

There is going to be a moment, perhaps sooner than later, where I will head into surgery and look over and see the person who has made a a life-changing sacrifice to save my life.

(That sentence is followed by a deep breath.)

And then I realized and continue to realize that I'm about to learn one of the biggest lessons in gratitude that is humanly possible. I really don't have words yet to describe what this feels like.

But I do have tears. And I'm owning every one of them. I know, months in advance, that I'm only feeling an inkling of the gratitude I'm going to feel come transplant day and beyond.

I am scared. But more so, I am grateful. I am learning lessons that are opening my spirit in ways that I never imagined.

Oh Positive.

In this past week, I have stepped out of my comfy box of familiar territories in both music and health.

First, Music.

While on my little road trip, I received an email from a bass player in Cleveland. He expressed that he's collaborating with a drummer and they were interested in working with a singer-songwriter. Thanks to the wonderful ways of the internet, they came across me on YOUTUBE and myspace and were interested in collaborating with me on my music. This is the first time I have ever had musicians contact me. Usually it's the other way around--me reaching out, hoping someone will dig what I do and want to play with me. But this is a year of tables turning, and I welcomed the offer with open arms.

On Tuesday night I had my first rehearsal ever with a bass player and drummer. My, oh my, what a difference! Initially, it was not an easy difference to navigate. In many ways it reminds me of the early moments of a relationship when you are gently, politely figuring each other out. You have to carefully pay attention because this is when you realize whether the chemistry is right. Or not right. The bass player was definitely feeling it out, asking questions and figuring out subtle, supportive bass lines. The drummer, on the other hand, was going at it like we were in ACDC. I had to laugh at times because I didn't know what else to do. Did I mention that when he introduced me to his dog, his dog peed on my shoe? Yes. This was how it all night began. Welcome to rock & roll, Maura! I have concluded, from many observations, that drummers are a very different breed of people. I'm not sure if there's something a touch different in their DNA, but they go at life with a speed and intensity that not all musicians do. It's a foundation of energy for sure. Little me with my guitar and voice was like, "what the hell is going on?" But this was in the first hour. In the hour following the first, we started actually finding some chemistry. We started clicking. And if felt GOOD. I admit, it was still challenging for me because I'm not familiar with having to sing over a drum set. I found that my lyrical phrasing was being challenged by the tempo set by the drums. All these things are normal and communication is key in working through these challenges (just like in LOVE, baby). I think what got me most excited was playing the new songs I've written in the last few months. I admit, I feel a little more love and excitement for them because they are new and the feelings associated with them are at the tip of my emotional tongue & soul. But the reaction both the bassist and drummer had to my new songs made me even more pumped about them. I have a new song called "This Woman" and the drummer got it on the first time through. The bassist said to the drummer as I was setting it up, "think Johnny Cash, dude. " And my heart MELTED. We played it, over and over, until my fingers ached. I was amazed at the buzz in the room. And I knew, whether or not I choose to work with these two gentlemen, I fell in love with the magic of musicianship that took place in that moment. I tell you, to feel their excitement, as musicians, about my songs--it was a bloody good boost to my creative journey.

Today I'm meeting with a gentleman who wants me to be the front woman to his blues band, meshing my songs with his songs. Blues? I've never really done blues. But he, like the gentlemen above, found me online and believes I have "the voice to sing the blues." He's a pretty accomplished musician in the area and has the most delightful German accent and European flair, so I said, "why not?" Right now, I find myself open to life and all the possibilities that come my way. I look at the confines I put on myself in the past few years and never want to feel that trapped again. I believe I have some things to do while I'm on this earth, and the only way to do it is by stepping outside my comfort zones and trying new and different things.

Goodbye fear. Hello adventure.

Second. My health. Last week I was hanging out with my brother-in-law and nieces. He asked me about the donor process because he wants to head my "find-a-match" campaign and wants to be well informed when he reaches out to friends and family about being a potential donor. (This is kinda difficult to write. I have tears in my eyes at the moment, actually.) I can't really explain how vulnerable this disease makes me feel at times, but this is one of those moments. I have a hard time "needing" people. It makes me feel like I'm weak. But I know this is just bullshit I've constructed in my head and believed for too many years. When he reached out and matter-of-factly put his love and concern on the table for me, I felt like I could have burst into tears. I've had a lot of people that I love say they would be by my side for this "adventure" and a lot of those people are no longer by my side. So to be in the presence of someone who is saying this and meaning this with his whole heart, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It's funny that one of my biggest challenges in life is being vulnerable enough to "need" someone, because, in essence, my survival directly depends on needing someone to give up one of their organs for me. So there I was, facing one of my biggest challenges and stepping out of my comfort zone.

I called the donor center.

I'm O Positive. Oh, am I positive.