jennyarntzen.music

  Tonight I am home with dogs, getting ready to suit up for a cold, late night walk. This is my homemade movie of a song I wrote last year, played tonight to share with you. I wrote this song in response to disturbing events perpetrated on defenceless people by corrupt, sociopathic government forces. It was the month of May, 2025. The Trump regime was supporting genocide in Gaza of the Palestinian people and allowing food stockpiles to rot instead of delivering them to people in need. In the garden at the corner of my street, these gorgeous lavender irises were blooming. Their beautiful emergence despite the catastrophic policies of humanity, were an inspiration to me. Everyday I am out the door with the dogs, walking familiar routes and noticing the subtle and dramatic changes in nature as the seasons change. I take strength from the world of nature, and from the nature of sisterhood. It is through my honest, authentic and infuriated friendships with women, and the men who support...

  I don't remember the first time I heard this song. It is as if it was born in my DNA. Perhaps carried through my ancient Celt lineage through Grandpa Jones.  I do know I have felt a deep affinity for the melody as long as I can remember. The lyrics were also important to me. The idea that, "...we both shall row..." resonates most importantly today. The original lyrics, the first three verses in my version of the song, speak of romance, unrequited love, and ultimately, disappointment. These are powerful forces in our lives that guide milestone decisions in our life journeys.  Last year, 2025, I felt a need to broaden the scope of the lyrics to include other dimensions of our life stories, all that we experience beyond romantic love, to grief, betrayal, and resilience. I have added three verses that speak to making sense and meaning of current life events.  The first of my verses starts, "The water is wide, I cannot cross o'er, it's carrying me, to a far shor...

  If not now, when? This evening I made the trip across town to Vancouver Folk Song Society, carting along my autoharp, two music stands, and my music charts. I had hoped to be on the list to sing my new song, but it turned out I was too late. The hall was full and I didn't want to sit with my instrument and gear cluttering up the room. I was also feeling embarrassed that I was too late. I left to stow my gear in my car, but by the time I had walked the two blocks to where I was parked, I just loaded everything into the car and headed back home.  I vowed to myself that I would share this song one way or another, so I pulled myself together with a cup of mint tea and a delicious serving of rhubarb crisp, a give from our neighbours downstairs. Bolstered and determined, I made this recording of this new song, Life Lines. In the song, I start by considering the lines of life etched on my face. My reflection in the mirror does not show my view from the inside out. And my view of th...