Austin — Two days until I leave for Africa and I’m in that unique time reality where resting in now, in Austin, on a sunny Saturday morning takes attention, every few minutes the pull of travel turning my head away from what’s in this immediate field. My singing practice helps me with this.
Today it’s words as I begin, mostly made-up sounds with English words falling into the mix here and there. I love the adventure of this, riding my surfboard right on the tip of my tongue, not knowing if a “real” word will come out or not, playing the tension between emergence and design.
When English words do appear they instantly orient my mind toward their meaning, so that all the made-up words in between exist in that territory, become about that story. I realize how powerful the words we all know are, how much weight each one has. They are just sounds but when we all agree to use one, it becomes a little magnet that picks up the metallic fuzz of meaning through our cumulative experience of saying and hearing it. I watch which ones come up, the more I let go the more I sense them coming from the same place as dreams.
Sometimes a story will take root and I will follow it for a while. Today there is one about a grand auditor coming to the planet to audit the ocean, test the sky and ask who’s in charge here. I notice it takes a little effort to stay in the trajectory of the story and the payoff is worth it, until I feel the activity too centered in my brain and not the rest of my body. At that point, I let the story go and drop again into the fomenting pond.