Long nights expand more than just the dark. A relief for the shape of the day to go away, gifting an impression of night. A sculptor finding joy in the marble carved away. I gather these lunar jewels outside, gazing into starry skies, and inside gazing into storied eyes.
There is a lightness to space, many trees left in simple grace, elegantly pointing starward, unencumbered by their usual weight. The environment has gone to ground, huddled close to our mother core – with all the work of growth and harvest frozen still. I love the clarity of the cold dark, revealed by the warmth of beating hearts and the light of sound.
Listening to the space between, I am carried away by the sway of winter winds. Sharpened senses take me deeper into all there ever was, a me on the inside, listening. Listening to the song of sensations and the wisdom of celebrations. Gathering tides and rising bodies, together over a hearty meal. Listening to laughter, both holding immersive joy, and hiding the pain of bypassed feeling. The reeling of the expanding dark. The opportunity to transform.
It is good to be back here, with you, typing words at the turn of the year, in the shadow of the sun, with a warm drink, smelling of spices. We are looking forward to a year, more here, with the written word. Thank you for staying. Thank you for reading.
Our Brooklyn Events
January 3rd — monthly acoustic sound meditation at Yogis and Yoginis in Park Slope.
January 6th — new year Art of Personal Tuning workshop also at Yogis and Yoginis in Park Slope. We’re particularly excited to explore sound here in a more interactive, breath and voice centered container.
January 18th — monthly acoustic sound meditation at Brooklyn Flow in Park Slope.
February 3rd — full day signature acoustic meditation at a private location. For more information or to sign up email us directly.
We also have a new events page on our website we’ll be diligently keeping up to date.
Oracular Practice
Turn over residual fears and doubts to the helpers to complete transformations. Freeing the true self as a process simplifies one’s life. Simultaneously perform and enjoy your performing by letting the matter go. This is the essence of genius. Discern when you have done your 100%, and let nature take over — do not force the completion of a cycle.
Some Sounds
Homemade bowl meditation :)
Some Links
🪈 Birdsong A beautiful short documentary about the whistling traditions of the Hmong people of northern Laos. Perhaps it could inspire us to enter a musical dialogue with nature.
🫧 Acoustic Ecology A profile of Norwegian sonic artist Jana Winderen, who records water sounds. I wonder how much we could hear the living soundscape of our environment and our impact on its health and balance, if we listen deeper.
🎹 The Man is the Music We saw Lonnie Holley live this year and were profoundly moved by the spirits moving through him and his unshakable authenticity. Here is a short documentary about him, his art and story.
Some Listenings
🦅 Arranoberri – Haratago. Something singular from the Basque region of Spain in the Pyrenees mountains, sung in an indigenous Paleo-European (non-romance) language. Sonic artifacts of Celtic, Gypsy, Klezmer, and Turkish music all inexplicably dancing together on a journey. The song title translates roughly to “Song of the Eagle,” and every time I listen, I feel some vicarious flight, above peaks and through valleys, and deep into a shamanic history.
🎻 Borderland Sorrow – Slow Meadow. A deeply evocative meditation on the edge of joy and sorrow -- some sweet melancholy. I feel myself at once rocked to sleep, and then transported when the violin comes in.
🌾 Kaval Sviri – Plenitsa Balkan Choir. A profoundly playful yet powerful rendition of a Bulgarian folk song about the Kaval flute, village life, and love. This song invariably puts a smile on my face, while charging something elevational deep inside. The harmonizing voices give me some undeniable feeling of upward motion and expansion, yet it is the playfulness for which I find myself returning.
Some Words
Words have gravity. Our mouths carve down swirling pockets of dense air. When air is no longer light, it falls on earth and shatters into stones. Some stones are sharp. People pick them up and use them for hunting. A bigger harvest arrives in the village. Some stones are pretty. People weave them into patterns. Longer gazing casts upon the altar. Some stones are heavy. People put them against the doors to keep guests in or enemies out. Some stones though, they are too dull for the hunt, too mundane for the decoration, too light as an anchor. Only kids would collect them, hold them tightly in their pockets till warmth of the palm infiltrates, and take them for a riverside walk, where they go stone skipping. These stones, still carrying zeal of the hand, gliding over cool water, embraced by wind, finally dive deep and land on the riverbed, dreaming about being air again someday.