Category: Category 1, My Blog

Everyone requires… a silver chord linking us the world above and below. So that we, her Hanged Men and Women can remain sane as we juggle the ordinary, the hard and ugly we are forced to confront everyday.

The silver chord can take you to many places. Some filled with danger, where shadows creep and hearts remain ruined. Yet very few people speak of instances when a sliver of light leads you to a place nestled in between the mountains….where magicians and alchemists gather , weaving musical spells. Freeing all from their own private hells or heavens.

Sometimes, just sometimes it takes you to …Summercamp. A lush landscape where the mountains and the wild fuse, where Bushman paintings are talismans on hard rocks, calling all those of celestial lineage home.

Allow me to share why I enjoy these gatherings so and why the music resonates in your bones long after. On Saturday night as I tried to fall asleep, I heard the music pounding. While it was considered too hard, fast and heavy for some, it occured to me that…perhaps those present on the dancefloor were in need of being pushed. Further away from themselves, outside their skin, in order to find whatever they could not let go of gracefully. I know I found myself on dancefloor like that once. My bones rattling as the music freed me from my skin and thrashed me against the mountains leaving nothing but dust. If you look carefully enough you may still find my grief littered there…


I found myself taking notes on the edge of the dancefloor. Even though my eyes were filled with smoke and shadows, I could see the real skins we have no choice but to hide. Skins no longer starved of love, eyes brimming with sky energy, trees instead of spines. A silent treasure hunter with a hat the color of earth, another alchemist in disguise. A Duke and Duchess gliding gently. A dragon escatically alive on a left shoulder blade. It waited eternities to find skin that absorbs music, waking it from its forever sleep as its human danced.


All an outsider might see are a strange bunch of people swaying to music under the sun. But I could hear their silent prayers also….

Show me how to trust kindness. Help me to find surprise, silver grey eyes plead. Be with me, he silently asked. But only if I can remind you of a love that is true, she answered as they held on to each other. Each and every sole blacked by music as incense and afternoon dust rode shotgun on the wind.

We all came for different reasons, each our private and our own. Yet, we all left feeling….a small something-something stuck inside slowly being removed, washed away. We left knowing ourselves a bit better,  as we were reminded of the joy of collective dance and healing. We left knowing… where we belong.

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