 
Die and be reborn
every moment
Live and tell each other how it feels
Listen to the voice that sits within you
Love yourself and listen to the light...
Listen to the Light - 1985 ©
 Around
that time, strange, stressful, synchronistic and spiritual experiences
(much more on these in my book - Belonging) brought me to
realise that all life is meaningful and that it's the energy inherent
in the flow of creation that lends that meaning ...Love - what some
call divine love, to differentiate it from the Western obsession
with sexuality that confuses love with lust. Oh...you may think
this is just old hippy talk, but hippies touched into Universal
truth and heralded a coming revolution in the ways we relate to
one another, particularly in Western society, but also worldwide.
It may just flow from the changes we embrace in our day-to-day lives;
it may come from an awakening in consciousness in those we empower
to govern and order us; it may spring from a planet-wide inner leap
of realisation; it may yet be a combination of all these and more
- but however it manifests...it will surely come. This evolved into
the major inspiration for my songwriting. Still...I have one or
two lust songs as well!
Hippy
chick...or what?
Whatever
difficulties I experienced, my heart would force me to write. Often,
my music was the only clear focus I had and yet I stayed alive by
playing unsatisfying solo and duo acoustic gigs in restaurants;
playing and singing 'standards' I didn't care for much, at the time.
I was pretty obsessed with communicating the new truths I had discovered
and got a bit intense around other folk. So much so that it was
hard for others to play music - or even hang out - with me for quite
a time. I'd more-or-less stopped playing gigs and took to street
music - playing my songs in the London 'underground' subway stations.
I learned a lot about performing in those echoey tunnels; by-passed
by busy, distracted commuters and various odd but interesting crazies.
I also learned that some of the most people-wise and beautifully
sensitive people in the world are homeless winos and bag ladies
- many of whom spend their nights in the 24 hour stations.
Dime
a smile?
In
1987, despite my antisocial habits, I passed an audition and was
selected to be part of a year long project begun by some London
jazz musicians under the auspices of an organisation called Community
Music (CM). CM was set-up to develop the talent and skills of musicians
and also offer them experience in leading self-expression workshops
based on standard improvised music techniques. What a great program!
It really opened my eyes to the potential of music in freeing folks
from the yoke of their own self-judgement and giving them permission
to express their true creativity. Wonderful stuff! This brought
my spiral of awakening to a place where all my life loves were integrated,
and I blissed-out on the possibilities. I also flitted in and out
of associations with a number of african, latin, jazz and reggae
bands - seemingly unable to find an appropriate place for myself
among them.
CM also developed my love of free/improvised music and I began playing
with some of that crowd in London. I guess the informality and lack
of clear rules appealed to me. I suppose I seemed less whacko in
that company, too. In early 1988, I opened a Jazz club associated
with a London pub - The Rosemary Branch. It involved little monetary
outlay from me - just a lot of setting up and promotion. We had
three Navigator's Nights a week for free and improvising music -
with surprising success. It didn't last long, however. I was too
distracted with my spiritual progress...and dealing with a dry period
for songwriting. This last was very hard, as songs flowed easily
out of me up till then and I felt lost in all my familiar worlds.
Then I realised that my focus had moved so far from singing that
I had lost the practiced edge and spontaneity in my voice.
All was not right in my world and I became increasingly disenchanted
with the lack of real 'life' and love inherent in our societal system,
so I took quick and lucrative work editing a marketing yearbook
and saved enough to consider buying a bus, converted to live in,
from some aquaintances, and set off with them to pick it up in the
south of France, near Toulouse.
Sometimes I go further when I am sitting still
And often go forward and backward together
What seem to be circles pattern my clearest path
And spiral to heaven when I'm not looking...
Always Coming Home - 1992 ©
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