Thank you Mehr for inspiring me to share my muse, as it navigated me through passages.. carrying me onward at pivotal points when all I wanted to do was stop and return to the safety of silence, my haven for over 25 years.
Though this concludes “Journey Through Music”, it’s not the end of the “Muse/ic” series–only a prelude to my next: “From Music to Screen”.
I guess I just gave that away. Into the universe it flows..more on that later.
To new beginnings, new inspirations… starting with Zoe Keating’s latest album “Into The Trees”.
Thank you Mehr!
Excerpt for Freedom VII: In time, she sits up, slips the dagger from her boot, and cuts off all her hair. The loose strands drift over the water, and she watches them on the waves until a sea turtle’s head appears from below, devours them, and vanishes.
She leaves the rocks and heads inland through a pasture, the sea behind her, the mountains ahead, and weeps.
“Tell me about the sea,” says a voice from her wet hand.
“Why don’t you look for yourself?” she answers stiffly.
“I can dip you in the water,” she says at last.
“Then I’ll no longer be a teardrop.”
Here I dwell with ‘A Season In Hell’, in search for freedom… of a different kind.
Thank you Moby!
Excerpt from Freedom VI: “Stop!” cries a man from behind.
She turns to the voice and sees him, pale, broad-shouldered, clothed in navy blue colors and wearing a stony face.
“I wish no harm,” she declares. “I only wish to speak to the Hayulah of the Deep.”
The man leads her through a long corridor walled in glass behind which colorful sea creatures are darting amid brightly lit corals. They reach a large door that opens to a vast courtyard filled with fountains of milky water lilies and rows of ivory rose bushes. Beyond a knoll of white tulips, a path bordered in calla lilies lines the approach to the platinum Garden Palace.
And as ‘Exurgency’ pulled me through the first few chapters of the ten year old’s tale, it does so again during my meeting with the Hayulah.
Thank you Zoe!
Excerpt from Freedom V: The djinni is no longer laughing. His eyes glaze over as he looks off into the sky.
“Why were you running?” she asks, drawing the hand away from her boot.
“Searching for my previous master.”
“How did you lose your master?” she asks, and takes a step towards him.
“She freed me from my lamp and disappeared,” the djinni says lifelessly, tears falling down his face.
“Why are you looking for her?”
“Only she can return me to my lamp.”
“But you’re free.”
Free.. to immerse myself in ‘Piano Store Dance’ and speak to the djinni..
Thank you Eva Maria!
Excerpt from Freedom IV: “Who are you?”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because you’ve forgotten.”
The woman weeps.
“Your tears may not save your friend or your land,” the tree assures her, “but they do help to wash away the spell of the peacocks.”
The spell of ‘Look Back In’ taking hold, as I move through the garden, a mosaic of stolen treasures, amidst the whispers of an old friend..
Thank you Moby!
Excerpts from Freedom III: “What lies on the other side of this hill?” she asks the breeze.
“Don’t you hear it?”
“I’m carrying the echoes to you.”
The woman stops and listens. “I hear you,” she tells the breeze.
“Which part of me?”
“The part that sounds like a breeze.”
“I bear infinite tones.”
The woman closes her eyes and listens again. “I hear the soft sound of a breeze!” she says dully, and continues her way.
When she reaches the heights of the hill, her gaze falls upon a blue sea. The breeze dances about her.
“I did hear hints of these waves in you,” she whispers to it.
“You listened like most do,” answers the breeze, “perceiving a mere layer of what I carry. And even when you heard beyond, you didn’t trust it.”
Like the breeze, Moby’s ‘Dead Sun’ carries the tones of my conversation with the Sea Woman, the dive into the deep with Kayahn, and beyond..
Thank you Moby!
Excerpt from Freedom I: “He comes,” the oak suddenly says wildly. “You must go!”
“I’ll hide inside you,” she says, running back to the oak.
“But I always do,” she cries, and falls to her knees.
“No! Get up!” the oak says sharply. “I can’t! My senses are numb. I can’t move a single limb. Run!”
The woman folds her hands over one of the oak’s limp branches, her wet face hidden under her cloak.
“I say run! Do you hear me?” The oak has matched the Deev’s thundering howls. The woman doesn’t move.
“You’ll be ripped into pieces. Get up, I tell you!”
“Enough!” Her words rip through the air. “I’ve been running for more than a century. How long will you have me hiding from the Deev?”
“When Rostam returns—”
“Rostam?” cries the woman in anger. “Where was Rostam all these years? He knew, he saw, yet he always steered his horse down another path. Your Rostam doesn’t fight for me! Let it be done!”
She lets go of the branch she has been nursing and faces in the direction of the screeching sounds.
‘Novio’ transports me to a faraway land I often visit.. where trees talk and mermaids listen.. a place where I go to search..
Thank you Moby!