Life, music and beauty

Ferocious waves striking the shore, echoing off the cliffs. The space of echoes. (soundcloud link) That was the imagery I kept getting, half a year later. And I can understand why.

This was was the last thing I wrote for months, in LogicX with sample pianos.  Half a year later I’m like… I love this. I love the layers, clarity and imperfection. 

I love the moments of doubt and insecurity too. I love the moments where I turn around and ask, why? I love all the whispers of this humanness. 

I feel like an alien sometimes, in love with the beauty and the sadness of this world more than this world in its everyday reality. 

I love how beautiful the wilderness is, the melancholy and the darkness, the rapture and the joy, the erotic and the sensual, nature and the feminine and the world, stops feeling like a race to somewhere. I love the moments of clarity.  

I read this metaphor, about two boys, in America and Peru, who both see a mountain. One boy sees the profits he will make by mining it and the other sees Pachamama. I still get goosebumps when I think about that. it illustrated for me… that the way we see something, changes how we interact with it… changes our behaviour… and changes the trajectory of our lives. 

Sand

The Space of Echoes

January, 2019

A bottoming out. A deepening… diving deeper. I realised, in hindsight, all my flaws become apparent, even though there is something redeeming about ones work… the flaws becomes obvious. In my heart, there is a deepening, a sense of wonder… a questioning… this was where I was at? Then I will honour that.

This was done by sampled pianos (piano libraries)… and there was a gift and beauty, to learning my way around music software… but at the same time, I felt like I was trying to fit myself into someone else’s mold – that everything I was, creatively speaking – but also in other aspects of my life – was meaningless.

When I wonder at the choices I’ve made, I get curious… Ultimately, if I didn’t take this road… where would I be?

My fickle mind used to love debating whether my work was good enough until I wised up. There are beautiful reasons for showing up to engage with the muse. There is a sense of… did I create this? The process felt more akin to putting a puzzle together. A part of me honestly, honestly feels like, I didn’t. That I merely showed up and listened.

And… that alone, I feel… is enough, to fall in love again and again with the process, with the art of work itself… and not merely the destination. 

On a deeper level, where I experience the music and not the thoughts… the feeling is of wonder. 

There is a sense of subtle rapture, of holding on, of searching, of yearning, of seeking. A timelessness to what is present, that those before me have experienced this. Every time the doubled octave sounds in the lower register, feels like a clarion to me, ferocious waves striking the shore, echoing off the cliffs. The space of echoes. I keep coming back to this imagery… if the ocean could speak… what would the waves tell us? 

I started listening to Gary Vaynerchuk’s podcast earlier this year… and he put it drastically into perspective. How crazy, to feel like you’ve failed your entire life… when you’ve only just begun… realising that… beginning is possible at every stage of life. 

On the healthy side of the spectrum, failure is a sign that you’ve experimented. On the other end, it’s a sign that your system is running a shitty story. It’s a sign that you’re being crippled by fear. Feeling like you’re a failure is a sign that something within, is failing you. It’s not a sign of your worth. It’s not a sign of anything that’s going to matter 20 years from now. 20 years from now, the choices you regret, should you choose to regret them, will be the choices you didn’t make, the should’ve’s, could’ve’s, would’ve’s… but didn’t. 20 years from now, can you imagine how sad you’ll feel if you shrank to fit into someone else’s story and stayed there? If you let disempowerment define your sense of self and stayed there?

It’s not merely sad, it’s boring, don’t you think? 

Sand