Well, that was a year!
Apologies for the long delay since my last post, but I am in - not necessarily an uncreative, but, lets say, an ‘unproductive’ part of my cycle. Indeed, typical for this time of year, but usually we’re running around engaging friends and family, and I’m having to catch myself from thinking “I better soak it all in and get ready to go on tour next week.“
Alas, there is no tour next week. There’s like nothing next week, or the week after. But I can’t think about that now, there is no point. And I've done a few pages on it here in my notebooks, but nothing rose above the rants level, and we know how these speculations can take a dark turn. (Better for a screenplay than a life plan.)
No, this is a time for listening . . . yes, still.
This is the silence in-between the notes in the song of the season of mankind. Who knows what the next movement will bring; it could be the thunderous tympani and horns of war, or the sweet strings of justice and reconciliation. But the final screeching of Opus 2020 is fading into history’s echo.
Here’s to a new year, a new breath, and a new song.
Portland, OR. Ceaseless rain and gray.