A bucket left under a dripping faucet overflows after we forget about it.
Change is slow, then fast.
Here is a melody vibrating with the pace of immediacy, slowly, steadily arriving:
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A bucket left under a dripping faucet overflows after we forget about it.
Change is slow, then fast.
Here is a melody vibrating with the pace of immediacy, slowly, steadily arriving:
This is a lullaby to sooth the tired.
There used to be a popular bumper sticker in the Bay Area that said “If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.” If you’ve been outraged since then you’re probably also tired.
The cries of fatigue are seeping through the cracks in the façade.
In a recent poem by Amanda Gorman, brought to my attention by a friend on this mailing list, she says “We can feel we have nothing to give, & still belove this world waiting, trembling to change.”
Bonnie “Prince” Billy, in the first track of his latest musical release asks “Haven’t we proved that our love can’t be moved? Isn’t it time we are rested?”
A dear friend introduced me to the book, “The Illuminated Rumi” one summer during our fateful 20’s. A recent text exchange brought memories of that summer alive again. This was a poem from that book that I particularly enjoyed, and the inspiration for today’s song:
I have lived on the lip
of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
knocking on a door. It opens.
I’ve been knocking from the inside.
— Jalal ad-Din Rumi, trans. Coleman Barks
Thank you to Mercury Zootcracker for the inspiration for today’s exhalation
The truth, as far as I can see it, is that we heal ourselves. What we expose ourselves to can be more or less supportive to that mysterious process.
The question in this melody is: when we go inward and close off from the world “out there”, what do we remain connected to? It makes me think about the beings of the ocean that live within their own shelter, yet remain part of the whole.
This is a guitar version of the last song I sang to a dear friend almost exactly one year ago, on the day that she died. It’s called “Pachamama, I’m Coming Home” and is a song that is often sung at Rainbow Gatherings, which was a culture and community that was very dear to Susie. (Full lyrics included at the end of this post)
About a year ago I had the uncomfortable blessing of being there for the last two days of my dear friend Susie’s life. By the time I saw her in person, she was no longer awake and/or communicating with words. In that setting, the division between healing and curing became stark.
For her, there was no chance of a cure (cessation of symptoms), but I was able to join the family, friends, and hospital staff that were with her during those last days, suporting her as she found healing (whole-ing) so that she could let go in peace.
(more…)There’s a phrase “a change is as good as a rest.”
For me, this song evokes a feeling of, “Moving in the same direction, until deciding to take a turn.”
Today is also Chinese New Year, welcoming in the Yang Fire Horse. A good day to try something different.
Healing happens right where we are. Convenient, but not always comfortable. The right music can bring us back to right here, and here is where we can activate our own capacity to heal.
When we hear “healing music” it may conjure images of harps and an angelic chorus. But that’s not always the right music for here.
Here’s something less “calm” that matched how I was feeling at the moment, and was very healing for me. I hope you enjoy it, and if it harmonizes with where you are at right now, may it be healing for you as well.
This one was recorded with the light of the full moon on my shoulder. Some songs aren’t so much composed as they are revealed. Like a leaf swirling in the eddy of a river. Or chimes singing in the breeze.
The clouds don’t go home early, and the rain doesn’t give up mid-storm. Whether it feels good or bad, what do we need for healing besides to let ourselves be nature?
This past week, I had the opportunity to play healing music to someone to provide comfort during a stressful time. Two hearts, one guitar.
Here is an arrangement of the melody I was playing live:
If you have something inside that is pulling at you to give it some attention, I hope this can serve as a supportive background for you.
Until next week,
–Alex
This week I’ve got a song for you that I hope will gently lift you, wherever you are on your journey.
To me, it feels like a reminder that the sap will be flowing up the trees again soon… it’s okay to sit up just a little bit straighter.