Category Archives: Art

This Transparency

I knew at a very young age that marriage and children were not in my cards.  I didn’t spend time dreaming up the dress unless it was to try and meld with my peers.  I came up with the weirdest name for the imaginary daughter I would never have.  It was really mythical in my opinion; Azora Wynter.  I guess “azora” means sky blue.  The name is beautiful and somewhat depressing unless you are a skier who appreciates a good fresh powder blue bird day.

I came up with that name when I was in junior high school, in the beginning of my depression as I tried to blend in with peers while still holding on to the self that existed beneath the required social structures.   And if time doesn’t exist- it was perhaps in that moment, coming up with that name that I deeply knew some day, I would make a decision so that spirit of something would not have time on this earthly realm.

We actually know a lot about ourselves at a young age and the world will either capitalize on it or try and wipe you clean of what you remember.

When my parents would say “Just wait until you have your own kids.”  I would vehemently tell them I wouldn’t be having any.  So far I have stuck to it.

When I was little, before anyone said anything about it- I believed in Mind Over Matter.  Weird that it comes as an acronym for MOM- because losing my mom at a young age is where many of these belief systems originated.

A mom is an amalgamated foundation for survival and life experience- when there is no mom a child grows up quickly out of need and survival.  It’s also very traumatizing but not something that can be openly discussed because the adults have a hard time quantifying painful situations- or at least historically it appears that way.

I thought and observed a lot of interesting things when I was young yet there was no real outlet for rumination of that sort.  Parents want you to be good and listen and follow directions.  Peers are trying to out do themselves with being “cool.”  I was in a constant spiritual battle and very aware of it on the physical realm.   Religion only made the struggle even more brutal.

I’ve fought myself to be where I am right now and if you were on the outside looking in you might find it a sad plight.  Over times I have been nearly dredged of whatever external drive I may have been given in this dream world.  I don’t want fame, I don’t want fortune.  I want to be in peace with the land and myself and anyone of that ilk is invited to join me in camaraderie and contemplation.

This isn’t my world.  I know it is a strange thing to say because here I am living up in it-  yet I am in the world, and not of it.  More and more I disassociate from it- not because I am frightened, but because it is so dissonant except for where it resonates.   These spots of resonance are so physically far removed from one another, that I am certain if they were in proximity something just may change with such a rush it would catch many off guard.

Meanwhile, here we are broadcasting these resonator waves  trying to create bubbles of heaven to inhabit.

This all sounds so crazy, but we need to be transparent about what is actually happening here.  I don’t spend all day and night focused in this way for nothing.  As time speeds up and this focus has apparent results for those beyond myself, this work just feels like it has to be done and I have been set up to participate in a greater effort for the whole.

This feeling that we came from somewhere else is pervasive in my common community.

For a long time I have felt that we will not recognize Jesus or the Christ because he is here in the faces of those fighting this spiritual battle that they were born for- incarnated to face.  The Christ spirit has been here for a long time- it is already embedded in those who are willingly here but have always wanted to go Home.

It is time to realize your roles in this play.  It is time to be transparent about what you are here to do and do it. It is okay to be in the middle, but realize there are two sides to the fence and walking the fine line takes practice and strategy.   You could fall at any time to either side.  Also remember that there is more than one way to get where you are going and you are a unique creation with permission to make your own way which make be more akin to a dance or carving your own path.

In this journey- some things stick and others fall away.  Pick your little battles wisely because the war isn’t yet over.

Post-Apocolyptic Laundry

Imagine if you will- a tech-dominated world where people are slowly trickling in.  Their one domestic responsibility is to have responsibility for their own laundry.  In divided groups at certain times, they trek down to the last slow-running river in order to beat the shit out of their clothes.  This is their way of staying connected to nature and need. However, the scene is always distorted somehow by the leftover frequencies that pollute the air.

This piece is about a  woman trying to remember the “other world” she uses to live in, and she feels a very strong desire to share these memories with anyone who will listen.  In this world, it is rarely silent, but there are only certain times when it is permissible to speak.  The tones of the reception are measuring the frequency of the output from the people, and if the speaker derails into topics not meant for discussion- the frequency reflects that.

This is a personal compilation of solo creations I have made in the last month.  I would like to add more stories to this because I want to introduce you to Maggie- and her story is incredible.  We wouldn’t know about the Laundry Lady if we didn’t recognize Maggie and her participation in bringing her to view.

Please enjoy- Post-Apocalyptic Laundry-

 

 

Perfections

My wonderful collaborator, Alessandro, has veered off into some Indian Raga path- and the smooth transition he takes into that expanded soundscape is gently adding new dimensions to the overall tonal frequency that has been our adaptations.

I am still sloppily grasping at chords and hitting wrong notes with confidence.

And by accident- we create perfection.

This new piece Most Angry Bungalow is my new favorite anthem.

To me, it speaks to memories brought up in a current moment.   The echo of the past interwoven with the present.  Like two long lost lovers, who fell out of fortune- finding themselves together again in the four walls they use to call home.   Talking in new tones as they recall a leftover yesterday that still chimes heartstrings.

This beautiful accident was simply two artists in two places who speak the same language and read the same music- but it is completely etheric- there is no proof, no conversation claiming any specific musical direction- our individual hands led by some unseen force that felt the need for this song to be reborn.  Because it is and it isn’t ours alone- Ale and me- acting simply as conduits of this reminder.

Enjoy-

Here Are My Albums

Ale and I have been continuing to pass each other soundbites through the ether in hopes of finally healing some dark human wound that we all possess and would like to ascend from, so you can imagine that sometimes things get weird.

These albums are no exception.  They are audio journies in long-form. They have the power to take you where you need to go- if you have the patience to listen and relax into it.

These compositions have been a pleasure to make and they really force me to be present with all synapses firing.  I am not in a preconceived attempt- I simply do what I feel like doing in a moment; that may be a vocal reading, collecting sounds or beating the shit out of an instrument in a way it was not designed to be used.

This process has developed into quite a conduit of expression and creativity that keeps me on my toes when it comes to imagination.  This is what I want to share with you.

I want you to take the grit with the beauty and awkward and the graceful interlude.   To feel all of it for yourself with no preconceived notion of where it will lead you.  All I ask is that you invite your imagination for the journey.  And thank Alessandro Muresu for any grace that comes from these compositions- he has the gentle touch that balances everything you hear within these gifts.

All of his contact info is in the video description. Subscribe to his channel, he makes new music EVERY DAY!

Let me know how it plays out for you in the end!

 

Unconventional: Rise Above to Reform

Have you ever been at a point, where it all seems so obvious and you can’t believe people are still arguing over what is blatant?

That is me, here, now in this cybersphere.  I thought that by leaving FB I would find respite- but one doesn’t simply go cold turkey with social media- they migrate and adapt.

For me, this was moving over to Twitter, where the conversation completely changed and I felt like I jumped into the deep end of the lake.

On FB, I had over 500 friends and over a 100 followers… I know, I know; nothing to brag about, but it equaled engagement.

On Twitter, I have roughly 90-96 followers and I am pretty sure at least a dozen of them are surveillance.  When one of the surveillance accounts realizes I am useless- they move on.  That’s cool- what ev’s.

That doesn’t stop the weirdness on my end though- Nope.  I am still at the mercy of algorithms when I go check my feed.

My motto:  “I’ll follow back until your posts get whack.”

Why?   I am not your judge- I am not your jury.  If you start posting stuff that makes me want to act in a negative or violent way- I will simply remove you the way I would a thorn or a splinter.

I will pay attention to the wound, give it care with things that will remove the intrusion.

This doesn’t mean I am running away or avoiding things- it means I am doing what I can to control my internal environment which will ultimately impact my external environment.  I could let my wound fester, or I could care for it and bring it back to optimum function.

90% of what I see posted online, makes me want to kick someone in the shins- why?  Probably because when we hurt we try and hurt others and the things I see posted bring me more than a modicum of pain.

If leaving FB taught me anything, it’s that I am sick of making myself responsible for the pain of others, or assuming that I was the source of pain, to begin with, because that is how hard we can be on ourselves.  We will assume so hard that a post is about us, that it will tear us up inside and then overflow into the life we live that isn’t attached at all to a SIMPLE FUCKING POST!

It’s crazy- but it’s real and normal for day to day life.   How many people are lugging around their own unspoken guilt and ruining the lives of others because a post was worded in a way that makes an individual have to face their own conscience?

I had to leave because I was on the brink of kicking shins because of the fakeness of all of it.  I wanted to kick shins because it would really hurt, in real time- but it isn’t fatal, but it is brutal.

I sit here at times just hoping for a real and raw conversation about how fucked up we are individually and in groups- not because I want to further twist a wound but because I can’t wait to find people who are finally mature enough to address the issue while also avoiding kicking shins.

I’ve found people would rather kick shins until they are bruised or deal with broken toes that have to heal from all the kicking.

I want a conversation or ten to be good enough.  Most people would rather mince words, or not talk at all, because they know their words will hurt as bad as a bruised shin.

When I say “I can’t do this anymore.”  It is because I truly can not do it anymore. I am smart enough to know that there are others in the world who don’t want to operate on the program we have been fed- and those are my loves of forever.  They are the ones who keep coming back, again and again, so that none of us are left alone in the struggle.

Those of us aware of the struggle, say “NO MORE!”   We are done.