I just enjoy writing. If Music is my Greatest Love then writing is The Mother I must visit and call as she demands to know everything before I rush home to make Love.
This bit of writing is about music of course.
The house is silent and my coffee steams as I write. I am sitting in a studio apartment overlooking a small garden. I know I should prepare for the day ahead but I need this: the first rays of sun streaming through the leaves, a small corner of silence.
A funny little thought crashed into me a few minutes ago.When I was small I use to think the earth was a lady. Not an old hag Jay, but a deeply exotic female with dark curly hair and eyes that glimmered like suns in the half light. I spent hours imagining the forests as the small hairs on her back, the nape of her neck. We, primitive beings built our homes, our empires on her sun-baked skin.
In the First Days we created music, found secret caves to reflect the world that intoxicated us, composed letters, books, painting in honor of Her Mysterious beauty. These small offerings of love she wore with ineffable pride as she basked in the light of the Gods.
Now we act no better than jilted lovers. Our offerings cheap mementos hastily purchased at an airport. The music filtering through her pores are condensed, layered in frequencies of decadence and violence. The surface settlers no longer tend to her with loving hands. They dig and mine for shiny stones and leave exposed, bleeding flesh.
Does it seem silly that I would chose to be a leaf on a tree in a little corner of the world? I want Her light to move through me, spilling music in every direction.
In order to discover new sounds, never look ahead or even towards. Always look back; dig deeper into the worlds of The Forgotten. So much music longs to be rediscovered and dragged into the light. As it offers the one thing we all need – a silent remembering.
Like the howls of a wolf, it means nothing if the call is not picked up, echoed and layered by the rest of the pack. It is a chorus call rallying us into readiness.