This song was written some years back during a time of trauma and loss. I experienced my dreams as vivid signposts at the time and happened to recall and record several of personal significance. In these verses, faint shadows from a handful of dreams are captured, rather like 'air-brushed' stories.
The simple, cyclical musical motif is a theme borrowed from african mbira music; wheeling and weaving around in endless ostinato form, it feels just right as gentle accompaniment to this recurring dreamy world. I had to introduce the nocturnal bell-ringer, for me the archetypal (hooded) harbinger of change.
As a footnote (excuse the pun, given the first dream recounted), my dreams have shifted and changed tenor as healing has come over the years. Feet are once again found, abundant grace flows in, and there's a simple freedom in just paying attention to the path wherever it is now.
The artwork is generously supplied by Dan Wylie, eco-poet, author and artist www.netsoka.co.za
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| Scenes from Dante's Inferno |
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| Compassberg |
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| Personally, walking in any wilderness is hugely helpful in crisis times, or anytime |
Originally conceived over hours, days on scraps of paper, all songs are eventually recorded and assembled using basic technology, piano and guitar.
Liz Campbell is the sole writer and composer of all the published material on this blogsite, unless otherwise stated.
This song written back in 2016 pulls together several significant threads for me; it came about after attending a mindfulness meditation weekend retreat facilitated by Rob Nairn. This was my launch into an ancient and diverse healing practice, essentially teaching a widening of seeing and hearing. And noticing that what is seen in the present moment is more than enough: enough to chew over for a whole lifetime!
I fell in love with the simplicity of an old Scottish folk song, 'parting glass', attributed to one Sir Alex Boswell as far back as 1650. This popular tune was later replaced by the well-known Auld Lang Syne. I have blatantly borrowed the finely crafted melody and replaced all the words with my own.
Except (being a 'thieving musician'), I have also borrowed from Hafiz, one of my favourite Sufi poets - well-tweaked, snipped and cut of course. His images defeat explanation and are best suggested in song. As he says in one of his poems (translated by Daniel Ladinsky):
"I wish I could speak like music"
Though the music has a predominantly melancholic undertow, it swings into a 'thumbs up' mode with some counter-intuitive humour: our very Loss is turned on its head as the Beloved (an image inspired by Sufi poetry) 'wins' and gives back even more abundantly, laughing... enough said, already too many words, let the song sing for itself!
And fittingly, my palms are indeed upturned as I invite any people (perhaps those who know me) who feel inclined to sponsor our LifeCycle song project to please contact me on liz.jessam@gmail.com
All songs are recorded and edited in my home-based studio using basic computer, cellphone, Ipad technology.
Sponsorship or not, the songs will continue to come.. so do subscribe and share!
This song from the LifeCycle collection recounts stories from several ordinary women I know in the workplace. They're not uncommon tales, especially as domestic violence and abuse are increasingly the order of these days.
All recording is done using cell-phones and Ipad, put together by myself and Tshego Makube.
Here's another song from the playlist LifeCycle, recorded and published during August, which in South Africa is termed Women's Month. Tshego Makube joins me as vocalist, singing to celebrate the lives of countless inspirational women who enrich our lives - our many sisters, mothers, daughters and grandmothers. This song pays tribute especially to the unsung women heroes who have risen above their stories and circumstances; it salutes those women who go unnoticed, thankless, or those who are trapped in abusive situations.
Fireflies are a treasured feature to be found seasonally up on the hilltop where I live. Seen in the light of day, they are insignificant and dowdy; it takes night's deep darkness to see their magical flickering light show!
It is simply a song by women, for women.
This song is from the LifeCycle playlist.
What
I need April 2015 LC
Please can I have:
A cup and a half of belly-laugh
And half a kilo of tears
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Cut the words and just watch and listen:
This beguiling wise man who keeps catching my attention did not use a lot of words, and it seems by all accounts that he spoke only after deep consideration. Hence he wrote nothing down, left no essential statement or message (that ‘mission statement’ of such paramount importance these days to institutions... only to become a burden to carry); his presence and being left enough to remember and it was over to his friends and followers to recall things he had said – a rough draft flow of gist, I imagine.
He did however indulge in telling stories, and these treasures are beautifully laid down, mostly preluding with the statement: ‘if you have ears, listen!’ or ‘if you have eyes, look!’. That alone is enough to keep one going an entire lifetime, learning to look and listen!
I sense that he refers not only listening to words, but beyond that, also listening and looking with our bodies, and inside our own bodies and what they tell us in any situation. That is ‘deep listening’from inside out. When people tell you to really listen, what do they mean? How does the word – really- change the quality of any action? Could it be that we listen or look through our body, flesh, blood, bones, all parts of ourselves?
In the aftermath of some great trauma involving loss, my experience of profound dreams always multiplied: for me, helpful agents in healing. One such dream I’ll relate as it introduced me to this aspect of my secret love affair:
A
dear, gentle, tall, slow-moving and greatly respected uncle of mine said to me:
‘There are 13 different ways to hear, you know’. Then an old woman, the
archetypal hag, wise and forthright, commented in her aged, matter-of-fact,
no-nonsense voice: ‘But no matter, if you don’t want to hear I can just give
you a stroke’.
This exchange was just the end tip of a larger dream story.
Both characters had something to say: the gentle slow uncle pointing out that there are many ways to hear, not just with our ears. Our gut talks to us. My knees talk when I pound them on a treadmill. Our breath catches. Our neck spasms just at that moment. We are walking conversations within our selves if we give it some attention!
The crone in the dream was quite right. Not long after this dream I quit my stressful full-time job. Had I not stepped off that treadmill I would have been increasingly beset by physical ailments that were already setting in. Our bodies look after us by finding ways to make us stop. We develop tremors, or facial twitches, chronic neck pains, twisted spasms in our gut or lower back, and these eventually stop us in our tracks to claim our attention.
Watching and listening are dangerous practices as they tell us things that can’t be ignored.
There is a way of inclining ourselves to listen and look with our entire body. Our body works hard to give us information and guidance but is easily over-ridden by our busy bustling ego with its stories and constructs, plans and cover ups, fixes and finger pointings. Subtle or pretty blatant signs from within ourselves can give us all we need for the moment: a range of body-based signals firing off in the energy transfers constantly happening within our cells – nothing short of miraculous!
When something is watched, it behaves differently. Try it. Watch children play, and once they know you’re watching they change their behaviour slightly. Apparently even atomic particles change their behaviour when observed (quantum physics).
No great magic, nor doctrine, nor cure, nor mission statement. Just an urging to wake up in all situations, to WATCH and LISTEN.
Liz Campbell is the sole writer and composer of all the published material on this blogsite, unless otherwise stated.
And
adoration leaves no room for pride
It
is as though the whole creation cried:
Alleluia alleluia we
sing!
How often making music we have found
A new dimension in the world of sound
As music moves us to a more profound
Alleluia alleluia we sing!
So
have we all in countless heartfelt song
In
faith and love, through centuries of wrong,
Sung
praises to the truth in ev’ry tongue
Alleluia alleluia we
sing!
Let ev’ry instrument be tuned for
praise
Let all rejoice who have a voice to
raise
May God give us grace to sing always
Alleluia alleluia we sing!
So
may our voices rise to God in song
To
whom, in whom, through whom we all belong
Who
was and is the music all along
Alleluia alleluia alleluia we sing!
It came to me in my dreams – a message: life is a game, a dance! |
No need to take it too seriously – it’s a game: it could go either this way or
that. Follow the basic rules, creatively. Think laterally, have FUN!
Margaret Fuller, a forerunner of modern feminism, wrote back in 1845:
"this world is no mere spectacle or fleeting shadow, but a great, solemn game to be played with good heed, for its stakes are of eternal value".
I love games. I love the way they hold us together for a time span. It has a beginning and an end, and the best games are full of intrigue, unpredictable twists and surprises. It’s best not to cheat but to be on high alert for the next best move, crafty or obvious.
Games illustrate consequence – this move results in the likelihood of that happening.
I awaken from a dream with this in my head:
“come play with me!
“come dance with me!”
A loving summons to live this way from this playful, ever-evolving, spinning energy.
