“Every time I’ve succeeded, it has been for many different reasons, but every time I have failed, it has been for the same reason: I said yes when I meant no.” --  Moss Hart
 
Have you ever done that, said yes when you meant no? Yes, of course you have. You’re human! I’ve had the experience many times, mostly because I’m a recovering people pleaser, but also because I don’t ask enough questions before I answer an enthusiastic “YES!” And that is something I want to redirect. I want to give myself the gift of my own time. Especially time to check in with myself to ask three very important questions:

1. “Do I want to do this?”
   This is a key question, because it’s important to do things we want to do, not just things we think we should do. And I believe not wanting to do something is a good enough reason for passing.
   
   
2. “Is this in alignment with my vision?” Clarity around what I want takes – again – time, but it’s so important to getting where I want to go and not getting distracted away from my vision.
   
   
3. “Is this my Higher Power’s will for me? Will it help the planet etc.?”
   If it doesn’t seem like it’s in my Higher Power’s will for me -- i.e. I have to jump through too many hoops, bend myself into a pretzel or go against my values – then the answer should probably be no. 

All of these three questions help me to start valuing my time and really spending my time the way that will be the most productive and meaningful for me.
 
If you struggle with wasting time, or spending too much time on things you really don’t want to be doing, I wanted to share a few tips that I use to make my time really count.
 

1. Your Day Starts The Night Before
   Over the years, I have found that having a few things in place the night before can save me so much time. I have a wonderful tool called a Passion Planner that is fantastic for not only helping me keep a record of my time, but also for showing me how to plan (something I have never been really good at until now). The Passion Planner also helps me Mind Map projects, which is taking a blank piece of paper, writing your project in the center of the page, and drawing lines from the center with steps you need to take (i.e. time of completion, cost, people involved etc…) written on those lines. You can find out more at www.mindmapping.com. In fact, I recorded two CDs this past year because I Mind Mapped the projects. It's really pretty fun.
   
   
2. Get Up Early
   I know this one is obvious, but for artists -- for this artist, anyway -- getting up early was a challenge until I had a child. I’ve been up so early in the last 25 years I may have lost my status in the Sleep ’Til Noon Productions Company that I was President of till I was 30. More gets done when I get up early – plain and simple!
   
   
3. Meditate
   I know this one might annoy you, because it annoys me. You may say you absolutely don’t have the time the time to meditate, but I promise you, you will be amazed at the time you can create by slowing down and being present. There are so many methods of meditation, but a good way to start is to just focus on your breath, and come back to thinking “breathe in, breathe out” when you become distracted. You will find yourself being present to and for your life more and more. Also, you’re going to get lots of great ideas you won’t remember, (trust me on this one) so keep a pen and notebook and/or voice recorder handy when your meditation is over.
   
   
4. Write It Down, Write It Down, And WRITE IT DOWN
   OK, so this is one of the things I’m working on. I have discovered that if I am just willing to take the time to write down the ideas, wishes, dreams, goals and visions I have, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, I am amazed by how many things come to fruition. There is power in writing things down.
   
   
5. Get More Rest
   Before the invention of the electric light bulb, our ancestors slept 12 hours a night. After Thomas Edison’s gift, people slept six to eight hours. And today, with all the technology in our lives, people are getting only four to six hours of sleep a night. It is wreaking havoc on our lives and our psyches. And I believe one of the reasons we aren’t dreaming is because we have 24/7 television (“Tell-A-Vision”) available to us. As long as I’m watching TV, the image maker between my ears is out of a job. Oh, and as soon as you put your pen and notebook at your bedside you will start dreaming again. (See #4)
   
   
6. Do Morning Pages
   Fans of The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron, know about doing morning pages, which means to write three pages of unedited, stream of consciousness writing every morning to get the “gunk” out. At a page and a half you’ll hit pay dirt and be amazed at what can come through.                                                         

 
So, there you have it my friends. As we prepare for spring, and the hard work that is most likely ahead of us just to be good citizens of the planet, take time for yourself. Say no when you need to so you have space for to say yes to something wonderful!

"To learn, read. To know, write. To master, teach." -- Hindu Proverb
 
This month I will join the faculty at The Music Institute of Chicago as a teacher of songwriting, and I am really happy, excited, and truth be told, a little nervous.
 
I wrote my first song when I was 11, with one of my best friends growing up, Sid. Sid was 13. I thought she was really cool because she could draw, write short stories, swing highest on the tire swing in the lot across from her house, and run really fast.

But when The Beatles came to America, Sid and I were equals. We were equals in our devotion and unwavering love for the Fab Four.
 
Every now and then, when we could get a ride to Randhurst (the first indoor shopping mall!) and would don our bell bottoms and Beatle caps – well, Sid had a Beatle cap – and walk around Marshall Fields speaking with British accents, sure that everyone who heard us would think we, too, were from England, and knew The Lads personally. Yep, we were goners.

Sid’s dad had a baritone ukulele that she learned how to play, and we started singing folk songs. We took our act (uniquely called Meg and Sid) to every neighborhood party. And although we loved playing the folk standards, songwriting called us! And being 11 and 13, our songs were love songs, naturally.
 
Leaves Do Fall
Leaves Do Fall
Drift and fall
As I look out my window
And I think that I do know – why I loved you.
 
A sad lament…just the way I like ’em! Our first hit. And you know, to this day it still holds up as a respectable first attempt. The melody was solid, the lyrics sincere, and the performance was always from the heart. I loved singing and writing songs.

Sid moved from our little hamlet of Crystal Lake to suburb on the North Shore of Chicago to attend the same great high school my son would go to almost 40 years later! I was really sad she moved, and very grateful she taught me some guitar chords before she left that I practiced so much I had to tape my fingers they were so sore. I just wanted to KEEP PLAYING.
 
Then my dad passed away, and I just grieved on the page. I did a swan dive into songwriting to help ease the pain. Then I met (insert music from The Godfather here) Mike Ferraro, and I started writing true heartfelt love poems that turned into songs. We broke up – more songs. And the Vietnam War inspired “why can’t we all live in peace” songs because I didn’t yet understand the politics behind the war.
 
For each phase of my life, songwriting has been my compass, my guide and really, my reward. Songwriting allowed me to put all my feelings on the page, and loved the process. Though, I must confess, honing the craft of songwriting is as difficult as working at the barre for a ballerina, practicing scales for the pianist, and changing one WORD in the 10th draft/rewrite for the writer. And you realize it’s a job – and a very disciplined job at that. But when you love it, it’s not work. (Unless of course you’re writing a jingle, or commissioned piece, and you are on a deadline).
 
To learn – read
Read the lyrics and poems of writers you love. I really didn’t “get” Eminem until I went online and read his lyrics. Powerful.

To know – write
You will meet yourself in the songs you write. And you will connect with others who you are expressing for.

To master – teach
We are teaching every day. Teaching others who we are, what we believe and what we think about the world. And that makes us masters in training.
 
How does a student
Prudent
Exuberant for learning
Burning
To keep the brain wheels turning
Toward greatness
Hate less
The hard work that it takes us
Mortals
In search of portals
That will make us and not break us
Before the muse
Lights the fuse
Or before we lose another groove
That will spark us
Start us
Down the path our heart was
Originally planned for
Began toward
The hands for
…Only this
Write, write, WRITE!!
 

A couple years ago I performed my show, Her Way ~ An Interesting Bunch of Gals, for a fundraiser for an organization called CONCERN, a food and shelter assistance program in Bartlesville, OK, that helps a lot of people.

While my friend, Faye, was showing my sister Brenna and I around Bartlesville, we stopped at a wonderful place called Martha’s Task. Martha’s Task is a place where homeless women can come and learn how to sew and knit. The women can then come once a week to sew, and be paid, earning money to get diapers for their babies and food.

As we walked around the place, I saw a blackboard with the word VISION written on it. Well, I have been a student of “visioning” for many years now, and though I’m no expert, I have seen it work wonders in my life. So I asked about it. I learned that one of the women who had come to Martha’s Task had rebuilt her life and now runs workshops for the women who are currently there.

Unfortunately, she said the majority of the women who attend the class have no concept of a “vision” for their lives, or of goal setting for that matter, because they are in constant urgency mode. On a daily basis, they are in such deep need they can’t stop to imagine any sort of future, let alone an abundant one, for themselves or their children. Just like their mothers couldn’t stop for the “luxury” of imagining a better life. Poverty, our guide told us, is generational. These women have no blueprint for a better life. Their vision remains the one passed down to them.

Today I realize that before I can envision a beautiful, abundant life, I have to let go of some limiting beliefs, and that is not easy!
 
When my older brothers were kids, my dad took them to downtown Chicago for a life lesson. My dad had made it out of a pretty tough South Side neighborhood and had succeeded. He took the boys to Madison Avenue, which in those days was the skid row of Chicago. Then he took them to Michigan Avenue and The Gold Coast, and said, “You have a choice.”
 
So now that it’s a new year, it’s time to once again work on my vision and determine what I want to achieve in the coming year. It’s up to me to not only imagine all of the good things that the Universe can bring me, but to also put my faith in the Universe by taking action steps to making those goals a reality.
 
One of my favorite visioning teachers is Rev. Dr. Michael Beckwith, who so wisely says: “We are pushed by pain, or pulled by a vision.”

I realize I have a choice, and today I chose to move forward toward my vision.

Hooray! I'm so excited to announce the launch of my new holiday album, "Season of Light" featuring six of my favorite Christmas songs: "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," "Season of Light," "Let It Snow," "Away in the Manger," and "Christmastime is Here."

I recorded the album a few weeks ago with the amazing trio of Peter Polzak (piano), Sarah Allen (drums) and Bill Harrison (bass). 

It's now available for $12 through CD Baby (or you can buy one in person at my upcoming holiday concert at the Wilmette Theatre. Buy one for yourself, or remember, they are great stocking stuffers!

Maybe my mom was on my side
Or she was just my ride
It was the turn of the karmic tide – we were one
Then I was born

I’ve carried these bones for far too long
They’ve haunted the words of my every song
Not saying that’s right or that it’s wrong
It made me strong, and I got along


Can we let it go?
Can we say we may never know?
Can it be a mystery?
If not for Freud – then for me
(From “The Karmic Ride,” music and lyrics by Megon McDonough, 2015 ASCAP)
 
I knew when I saw my sister’s name on my phone at 5 a.m. on Oct 30 that it could mean only one thing: Mom had passed.

We’d been waiting. She had been switched from palliative care to hospice care almost four weeks ago, and because she was a fighter, and really wanted to stay at the party, we thought we had more time. Oh yeah, and denial was still holding strong. Even though she was 103!!!

Yep.

But in our defense, this wasn’t the first time it seemed like she was dying. In fact, she’d had a heart attach about a year-and-a-half ago, and it seemed really serious, so my sister Brenna had called the priest for last rights. But the old gal was up the next day eating ice cream and watching baseball. Those must have been some powerful last rights.
 
However, eight months later, she fell and broke her hip. They performed surgery, and afterwards, when she was in rehab, Mom astonished the physical therapist by “taking 16 steps today!” But, truth was, she was done. She was tired and ready to go Home. Thankfully, she got her wish.
 
She was a Big Light, a Force of Nature, frustrating and gloriously wise. She was my first voice teacher and coach. She was brave and beautiful, and in our little town, she was a big draw for actors, artists and theater orphans who came to our house after my Dad died. She was inclusive. In fact, after she was widowed, whenever we would be out as a family, and she saw a woman sitting alone, she would ask her to join us. We kids were of course mortified, but my mom was kind, and she knew what she was doing.  

I sat up in bed in the dark when I answered Bren’s call. We breathed a, “Thank you God,” and hung up. I sat there, cried, and got up, made a cup of coffee, and sat by the kitchen window to think. I saw in my mind a memory I love of my mom. She had just picked me up from Kindergarten in her convertible, and I was in the back seat. As she pulled away from the curb, her hair was blowing in the wind, her face turned up to take in the sun and she was whistling. I remember watching her from that backseat with my heart full of love for this person, and smiling and turning my face toward the sun. And I tried to whistle. It was a great ride.
 
I have so much to be grateful for this season. Mom passing and out of pain, the familiarity of work, as I am on tour with The Four Bitchin’ Babes twice this month. Releasing a holiday CD called Season of Light, which is also the name of my holiday show at The Wilmette Theatre on Dec. 17, being on Rick Kogan’s show on WGN radio on Dec. 4, and more gigs with The Babes in Wisconsin.
 
Thank you to every one of you and for your support. I’m so grateful.

I can’t believe that I first started playing with the Four Bitchin’ Babes 25 years ago!? That simply can’t be! But yes, it’s true. This year marks the 25th anniversary of a group I’m proud to be a founding member of, and I’m so excited to be touring the country with them this fall to celebrate every minute of those years.
 
It started as so many things do, as a great idea and an invitation from my friend, folk goddess Christine Lavin, to join her on tour to lend fun and support as she recovered from carpal tunnel in her wrist. Patty Larkin, Sally Fingerett and myself had our first gig with Chris at a funky little art gallery here in Chicago. It was so much fun that we agreed to stay on and go to California.
 
Now, musicians have a rule. If you’re not making a lot of money on a date, the hang has to be worth it, because sometimes a hang with great players and FUNNY people is priceless. The hang in the early days, before the group was even formed, was spectacular. We lost our blouses.
 
We were playing the infamous Birchmere in Alexandria, Va., when soundman Billy Wolfe popped in a DAT tape (high tech in those days) and recorded our set. It became our first of many CDs, but one of the best sellers. And The Four Bitchin’ Babes — a name recommended by the 15-year-old son of our agent — was born.
 
We hadn’t set out to be a band — we were just four solo performers who got together and played some gigs together and recorded — so, like in love, you ride the wave as long as you’re able. So after a time, Christine and Patty returned to their solo careers, and Grammy-winning songwriter Julie Gold, who can make you laugh ’til you beg for mercy, stepped in.
 
Julie is the most inspiring human being I know, and a New Yorker to the bone. When she could not bear being away from her beloved New York, or her cat, any longer, the amazingly gifted Debi Smith of The Smith Sisters stepped seamlessly into her spot. When Chris stepped out, the funny and talented Camille West hopped in with heels on! When it was time for me to switch things up, Suzy Roche sat on the third stool from the left.  Then Nashville girl Nancy Moran jumped in strummin’. Cheryl Wheeler was also a Babe a couple of times.
 
And a few times, folk goddess Mary Travers sat in, most memorably at The Bottom Line in New York City. I first met Mary when I was 19 years old and opening for John Denver at Carnegie Hall. I remember her sweeping in to the very tiny dressing room at the top of the stairs of the infamous concert hall, complimenting me on a great set, and directing me to not change my clothes but to go immediately next door to The Russian Tea Room and celebrate! I was star struck and speechless. I saw her a few times after that, and I loved her passion for life and for the music.

Here is a picture of me with her and Sally.

I was single as a Babe, got married as a Babe, had a baby as a Babe, and got divorced as a Babe — all these huge life changes in the last 25 years. And each one of them was made a little easier because I had the great good fortune of having friends, sisters and women who, in the end, are a great hang!

​Hey, Mother Teresa is now officially a saint. I’m happy for her, though I’m pretty sure that’s not what she was going for, but I don’t know. She was pretty interesting.  She has taken a LOT of heat/criticism for how she did things in Calcutta. What do they say? No good deed will go unpunished? Mostly people criticized her for having “an agenda” when it came to speaking out against abortion and birth control. But hey, news flash — she was a CATHOLIC NUN! And she was working in CALCUTTA, INDIA. I’m not sure I can criticize her or any of the good sisters for speaking out about their beliefs. It sort of goes with the gig I think.
 
What will always astonish me though is that she chose that life. And stayed with it! That she took the smallest, hottest room in the convent/home for the poor, above the kitchen.

Now, on the other hand, she took private jets, and I’m sure was given beautiful accommodations whenever she spoke or received one of her many awards. It makes me wonder if she requested a broom closet at the Ritz. Because a part of me thinks it would be crazy to not take in the abundance God Herself was making available to you.

Apparently Pope John Paul II worked hard to get her to the head of the line of saint candidates, and the current Pope, Francis, made it official on Sept. 4. I was astonished to learn that he waived several requirements, but the two-miracle rule still applied. The Vatican needed to prove that Mother Teresa performed two miracles to make it official official. Jeez, it reminds me of when I went to the DMV to change my name on my driver’s license after my divorce. I didn’t have the right forms, papers, and documents and had to keep going back. At a certain point you really start to think; “Oh ferthelovagod, never mind!”
 
Yeah, it was just like that — I should be a saint.
 
So, here’s what I think… anyone who devotes their life to helping the poor and is sleeping in a hot closet night after night — for whatever reason — is automatically a saint. And anyone who complains about having to go back to the DMV three times because they don’t have the right paper work is a whiner.
 
And that everyone — absolutely everyone — is a walking, talking miracle.
 
Here are the lyrics to a new song that I wrote about Mother Teresa. Enjoy!
 
A miracle, a miracle, a miracle or two
A miracle, a miracle, a miracle from you
 
Then we will know
You were the one
And not a simple human nun
 
A miracle, a miracle, a miracle sitting there
A miracle, a miracle, a miracle in your chair
 
That’s what you are,
Born of the stars
I look at you
And see that spark…of
A miracle, a miracle, a miracle that’s you
A miracle, a miracle, a miracle, it’s true

​Most days I love writing. I love the process and the “click” that sometimes comes when I start writing, as if the wheels have been greased.
 
And I’ve heard from every writer: “Writing is hard work.” But, it’s not the writing part that’s hard for me. Noooo, it’s the sitting my ass down in the chair without having to warm my coffee, get a better pen, check emails one more time, meditate or do the dishes first — that’s the hard part!
 
Scott Pressman tells us in The War of Art that resistance will bury me, so I know that when it comes to writing, the most important thing is to move past my resistance and just do it.
 
Lately, in addition to writing my blog, I am also working on writing a memoir piece about my days as an 18 and 19-year-old girl touring with John Denver in the early ’70s. I’m calling the piece “Rocky Mountain All Time Low.” Hey, it wasn’t all horrible, but it was the pivotal point in my life and career that left me pretty well traumatized and putting the pieces together at 60.
 
I’ve even decided to sign up for a month-long writing class and hire an individual writing coach to help me turn the piece into something I can be proud of, and taking both of these steps has really made a difference in not only the piece itself but also in letting go of my resistance to writing.
 
When I was younger, I had a hard time asking for help or going to teachers for advice. Not only did my mother discourage me from going to school (she said I didn’t need an education if I was going to be a singer), she also said I didn’t even need a voice teacher. She would say: “You have a natural gift, and you don’t want anyone to ruin that.”
 
Hmm. Well, while it’s true I was born with a gift, I’ve realized over the years that it’s only when I have had teachers, coaches and help from those who knew the terrain I wanted to travel that I really started getting somewhere.
 
So, here’s to all of us students who know they don’t know and to those of us who are willing to show up to learn every day, work every day and practice — ugh — every day. (It’s a goal…) And to all of the teachers who are helping us to grow.

​I love making records. It’s something I’ve gotten a thrill out of my whole career, and the excitement never seems to go away when I get into the studio and start to sing.
 
This past weekend I recorded with some other Positive Music artists, and it was so much fun to get back to doing what I love. I recorded a song called “I Will Surrender,” by David Roth, Karen Drucker and Faith Rivera, as well as an original song called “I’m Not Alone.”
 
Then later this month, I’ll be traveling to Nashville to start recording some songs for a new record (I will always call ’em records) that I’m working on that’s tentatively titled Burnin’ Karma.

I’m planning on recording a few songs written by other songwriters — including “Train Leaving Dallas” by Thom Bishop and Billy Panda and “Empty Hands,” a beautiful song by Daniel Nahmod — as well as some of my own. I can’t wait to get back into the studio and see what magic happens!

To date, I have recorded 19 albums — seven of which are compilation CDs, including five with The Four Bichin’ Babes (we are celebrating out 25th year this year!) and some Christine Lavin projects, including On A Winters Night, Just One Angel and holiday classics.
 
I recorded my first record when I was just 14 years old, after a family friend submitted a reel-to-reel tape of my original folk songs to the “WLS Big Break Radio Contest” and I WON FIRST PRIZE! One of the prizes was a recording contract with Mercury Records. I cut two singles, as many as Mercury said they’d make, and — well — they released me instead of the record. But it was still amazing to be able to record my first record at Universal Studios in Chicago with Mini Ripperton as one of the background singers! I was in heaven.
 
A man named Bobby Monaco produced the two songs for Mercury, and we stayed in touch after my deal was over with Mercury. I would get home from high school, change clothes and either take the train to the city from Crystal Lake, or drive downtown to his office and play him my latest songs. There were always cool rock musicians at the office working on songs too. More heaven.
 
One day Bobby called to tell me he and his partners were moving their production company to LA to start a label, and maybe I could come out too and he would try to get me a record deal! So, I finished my junior year of high school, packed my bell bottoms and headed west. Hippy heaven.
 
I got a record deal in about six months with Wooden Nickel Records/RCA; a manager, Jerry Weintraub; and a tour with John Denver after I recorded my first LP, In The Megan Manner. To this day, it is my favorite recording of mine. Songs I had written to heal from grief and loss and now loneliness for the same small town I couldn’t wait to leave a year earlier.
 
I was in way over my head. I fell in love with a guitar player who, it turns out, had “a thing for young girls.” I was definitely a girl from Crystal Lake, IL. Naïve and groomed by a pro, I recorded three more LPs, and then before I knew it, I became privy to an affair that a certain someone who had a hit song for his wife on the charts was having. I checked it out with Guitar Man, and next thing I knew, it all went away — the tour, the record deal and the love of my life, the married guitar player.
 
Opening acts are dispensable.
 
I came home to Crystal Lake to help my mom out, and slept for a summer. I didn’t get back into the studio for four years. Shame will silence a person so completely that I feel blessed it was only four years.

And luckily, my love of making records hasn’t stopped since.
 
Thank you for the love, and support, and for being on this journey with me. So far, heaven.

​​Oh everybody’s got a Blue Star Highway
To take them somewhere else
No matter where you go — you only need to know
The road back to yourself
Yes, everybody’s got a Blue Star Highway
In their heart or in their mind
‘N’ what keeps us here is mainly fear
Of what we will or will not find
                        Megon McDonough ~ Blue Star Highway
 
Wow, I am probably not the only one thinking: “Where does the time go?” I wrote this song in 1992, after I’d had my son, Denvir, and I will play it at The Woodstock Opera House on July 16 in my show A Girl And Her Guitar.
 
I grew up in Crystal Lake, a couple miles from The Opera House on West Hillside Road, with — literally — a white picket fence in front of our house and a beautiful oak tree, which is the main reason my father bought the place in the ’50s. It was heaven. I would drive those back roads way too fast. In fact, I learned how to drive on those roads when I was about 13 in Danny Powell’s little VW Bug — on a shift stick, no less! To this day, one of my favorite questions to ask people is “Who taught you how to drive?”
 
Danny not only taught me how to drive, but he constantly encouraged me to sing, too, and play my guitar. He’d always be saying, “Bring your guitar to my parents party!”
 
I’m really looking forward to this show for many reasons. I’ll get to see some family and friends. We will all, most likely, be a little surprised and accepting of the changes we see in each other.
 
Danny won’t be there though.
 
See, Danny was the first gay person I ever knew. He and his family moved into the neighborhood when I was about 10, and he loved my sister, Kevin, because she was the most irreverent, passionate, creative, talented person I ever knew. She was an actress and painter, and had been in several plays at Crystal Lake Community High School. She was planning to go to The Royal Academy after graduation to study acting and art, but was killed in a car accident her senior year on her way to the local theater to meet her boyfriend, who was in rehearsal for a play. We were shocked, and broken in places that healed over time, but the bones never really got set right.
We were heartbroken. Especially Danny. He lost one person who loved him and supported him and “got” him unconditionally.
 
He moved to the city after school, and changed his name to Chris. He was closing up a bar where he worked late one night and was the victim of a stabbing. I had been living in Los Angeles at the time, and didn’t hear until weeks after it happened.
 
So, I will sing Blue Star Highway for Danny. And for all the beautiful souls I knew and loved when I was just a girl and her guitar.