Rumi once said “Where there is ruin, there’s hope for treasure”. Try telling that to someone who has lost a child, a lover; faced their worse fears and still has to wake up every single day. Those people, and I was one of them, secretly hoped that something or someone would change irrevocably the landscape of their lives. They hope for the day when world is as it should be, when smiling  is second nature, when they no longer have to hide behind words or (in my case) music.

The problem with being a musician, or any artist for that matter, is that we are immersed and obsessed with Grand Love; Agape. So we become thrill seekers. We long and seek out the rush of oncoming lust and adventure. Just like a horny man on the prowl – I cannot  recall just how many people I have murdered in song. Ah yes, I do have a few murders I  recall with absolute precision and relish. My favorite victim met his sticky end at the other at the hands of a Voodoo priestess…

For a while I was afraid to write music. I grew weary of my past. “Auriol, ” my friend Ayesha remarked,  “You have to get back in there. You cannot just watch as others live their lives” “Lady, ” I said while sipping my coke, ” I am just going to wait and watch for a while…” Truthfully I was a coward. Reflection was needed, I told her. I was afraid of repeating my mistakes. Change never comes easily, not even while you hope, pray and beg for it. Yet as we take care of kids, bills, work we forget. All we know and see is our past; broken and imperfect. Instead of looking at those events objectively and saying, “Okay, this is what I learnt” we cling to the memories – even as we hurt and bleed.

“What has been lived can’t be changed. But we have lost…we can still reclaim”  My Ben said that by the way. Just this morning I decided to stop apologizing. Mistakes were made and lessons learnt. To honor my past I gifted myself with a tattoo. As I meditated a thought occurred to me. I did not have to mark myself to show that I have changed. It is evident in the way I live my life. The tattoo is on my right hand, the hand with which I hold my microphone .

The ability to love and free yourself of your past  comes quietly, gently…It never howls and throws our world asunder. It comes as the wind rustling the trees on a hot day. It is a  whispering, remembrance that there is more…and in the midst of my past, my ruins,  I discovered (much to my shock and horror) that I am the treasure I was seeking. Me. Not something or someone. Just little old me. That being said, I feel sorry for those people in my life. I will love them ardently, passionately, effusively and and they have no choice in the matter. I will gift them not with music or words but with every bit of myself for as long as they will have me…

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