The Ocean

At the moment, I’m sort of at a loss for words – in a weird sort of in between space which reminds me of floating in a huge expanse of water.

Okay and that’s weird, because that feeling came to me as I was typing that, and I’m being haunted, or inundated, or deluged (the right word just doesn’t seem available to me right now – it’s not threatening, but persistent) with images of water.

I try to let go with my mind, to get gears moving, and when the doors start to dissolve, the water pours in. I see myself up and looking out over an ocean, a dark and calm ocean. I start to get that panicky feeling that I associate with people who have a fear of heights when I consider how deep that water really is.

I see myself swimming out in the middle of it, no land in sight, but calm nonetheless.

And like a lightening bolt across a dark sky that I hadn’t realized was stormy, completely removed but somehow still part of it all, I realize that there’s an amazing and blurry magic in the creation of anything, but I feel it especially true of music.

I feel a flurry of something inside myself when I think of a group of musicians starting at silence and working together and building something out of sounds, something you can’t even see, building something that has the power to move you.

That magic is pure and it’s holy somehow. It shouldn’t be judged, I know this, but there is still no fucking reason to go out and buy a Kelly Clarkson CD.

Boom Chicka Boom.