“4. silent days (4:33) the sad side of silence, the incredible loneliness of not connecting, the urgency of it all.”
i wrote these words for the jacket of this album in 1996. they are no less valid today. we are in an inexorable time of too-much-silence-too-much-noise. we stand perilously close to saying too much. we stand precariously near the abyss of not saying enough. a balancing act, it’s a lonely place, a place of silence. in our home, in our families, in our friendships, in our communities, in our world, silent days are devouring and saving relationships. both.
this is a time that has beckoned the meek to become strong, the quiet to speak the truth, the lonely to be heartened by having a voice, the invisible to become visible. we deliberate over our words, we speak, we boisterously challenge, we thoughtfully listen. we consider the consequences of not connecting. we steer away from noise just for the sake of noise.
and yes…there is urgency. for “there comes a time when silence is betrayal.” (martin luther king, jr.) and there is this line – a fine line indeed – but one which all who are human may straddle: “wise men speak because they have something to say; fools because they have to say something.” (plato)
to be quiet is one thing. unassuming. proactive in soft tones. to be silent is another.
speak your mind even though your voice shakes. (eleanor roosevelt)
download SILENT DAYS track 4 BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on iTUNES or CDBaby
wendy aka ben aka saul brought the movie so that we could watch it together. the musical the greatest showman was completely entertaining. there are so many quotes and moments in that movie that are worthy of repeating but the one that is on-screen at the conclusion is by far the umbrella quote. “the noblest art is that of making others happy.”(p.t. barnum)
so often, it is the arts that people turn to for a breather, for something beautiful, for something to relieve their stress. a person will listen to music, gaze at a painting, get lost in reading a book or watching a play, feel their breathing slow down during a ballet, sink into a poem. invaluable offerings of peace, of happiness, the arts give pause.
it is humbling when someone tells me that a piece of music has touched them, that a song has made them weep, that something i wrote made them stop a second and ponder. it is my job as an artist to do my best to reach out with my work. i can’t determine if it will resonate with anyone; i can only “put it out there” as they say.
it is more often lately that i bemoan the priceless value of the arts that coincides with the oft-price-less earnings of the arts. for what better work than to make others happy. what better work than to be part of what people turn to when they need to breathe, when they need beauty, when they need to de-stress.
it is noble work. however you achieve it. for at the end, will we remember anything other than what made us happy and, more importantly, how we made others happy?
in all the chicken-scratch-notes i have about this piece of music, i have written in the presence of a heartbeat. the pulse that spans the entire 6 minutes 14 seconds, this heartbeat starts the piece. it is throughout the piece. it ends the piece. it is no accident that this composition seems interminable, ever returning to the theme; figuring “it” out often seems that way, a curse of perseverating analysis paralysis, depending on what “it” is.
i just erased what i had next written about this. i couldn’t help but talk about my repeated use of a rising leading tone gesture in the theme, f# to g, f# to g, off the beaten major root path, but instead the path of starting on my ever-loved ninth in the e minor key, a key that resonates so often with people. then i thought, “blahblahblah!!” geeeesh. that’s way too much information. so i erased it. (yes…there were even more details before i erased it!)
i composed this at a time that was laden with things to sort, to figure out, to resolve. it is one of the longest pieces i have recorded. there are moments you can hear the almost-there-ness of it, but, like life, it reverts back to the initial themes, the initial questions. and then, punctuating it, from time to time, a firm melodic gesture (f#-g-f#-e) where you can hear the lyrics in your head, “figure it out.” much easier said than done, eh? but our hearts keep beating.
missing comes in many shapes and sizes. colors too. i’m now at that age that i hear this song in the context of too many people i know who have lost loved ones. whether their beloved has moved on to a different dimension or a different life, it leaves behind someone grieving. “you’re so here though you’re not here.”
i occasionally browse through facebook and i am struck by the number of acquaintances or friends or family members who are remembering a loved one, this group of people unknown maybe to each other but bonded invisibly by a mutual intense emotion. my heart responds to their pain, their determination to keep going, their day-by-day stepping back into the world. it’s indeed a “crazy maze” that they are navigating, that i have navigated as well, that we each navigate at some point in time.
although moving on to a different life presents other extraordinary challenges to live through, losing someone to dying often leaves so many unspoken words, so much un-lived living-together. “i hear you whisper, hear you cry, hear you call my name at night, over many miles and many distant skies. i hear you whisper, hear you cry, hear you call my name at night, and i believe it’s not goodbye.” like many of you, i, too, have listened intently to the universe, to the night, waiting to hear, believing that just-on-the-other-side is a whisper, on the wind, wafting its way to me.
my front row seat on the dance floor of david’s studio affords me this unique opportunity to watch him waltz with his canvas, shift his weight from one leg to the other, lead the painting or let it lead him (much as i unintentionally do when we dance.) the images come to life. i can feel the pull in her neck, backward-bent in the beautiful flow of the tango, their faces raised to the sun in this morsel of TANGO WITH ME. i can feel their hands embracing, arms outstretched, reaching for their forward steps. the painting around them is magical and surreal, fantasy almost, just as a couple dancing is lost in the dreamy quality of their moving together.
ahhh. it is a privileged front seat i have. each time…watching another birth.
while i laid awake, i tried to picture how i would react to someone literally placing me – without ropes – several hundred feet up a sheer granite wall, my hands gripping a crack and small outcropping, my feet perched on a slight deviation in the granite face. it made my hands sweat and my heart race thinking about how paralyzed by fear i would be, unable to move either hand or foot. THIS is out of my comfort zone. far out. and i couldn’t get the image out of my mind.
the wind was gusting about 35mph and there were tiny snow squalls on the way to madison. we were on our way to a movie theatre for a national geographic release of the movie FREE SOLO, the documentary capturing alex honnold’s successful free solo scaling of el capitan in yosemite. free solo. without benefit of any ropes or safety gear. just his hands, his feet, climbing chalk, and memorization, no – absolute physical retention – of the precise moves he would make on the way up this 3000′ beautiful monster.
alex doesn’t talk about his fear much. he, instead, speaks of enlarging his comfort zone, little by little. his somewhat unemotional approach to this challenge is daunting. one of his support team said words to the effect that alex had this challenge: like an olympic athlete he needed to win the gold. no ifs, ands or buts. it was the gold or he would fall to his death. who does that?!! the black and white of that makes my breathing pause. but alex pressed on. clearly his comfort zone is huge, that bubble around him. at least when it comes to mountains.
i know, as fascinated as i am with mountains and climbing stories of all sorts, that this is not something i could or would do. my mountains are different than that and my comfort zone bubble has more to do with my artistry, music, writing. not necessarily less scary, but certainly less physically demanding and clearly, without a doubt, less treacherous. but we are not limited to one mountain at a time.
each of us has this bubble and i picture pushing on the walls of the chrysalis, little by little conquering the fear of the outside – whatever the challenge or challenges – making our way, without ropes or safety equipment, into the next step of our lives. we try to “dream big.” we “go after it.” we “just do it.” but in reality, with no protective membrane around us, we first have to gear up, face fear vs comfort, garner courage and climb. yes. we free solo every day.
it’s circuitous…the way i would define where i’m from. you have to be prepared to listen a spell if you ask me this question.
just like anyone, i have taken pieces – absorbed – every place i’ve been, every community i have shared in, every experience i’ve had, everyone i’ve met or been influenced by; indeed, those have become where i’m from. in jeans and boots on stage i talk about where “home” is and try to differentiate by referring to wisconsin as “home”, florida as “home-home” and long island as “home-home-home” which sounds semi-ridiculous, not to mention annoying for people who cringe at redundancy. plus it doesn’t include time living on a sheep farm in new hampshire nor profound moments i’ve had visiting places that have sought space in my soul. but it might give you a place to listen from; with your eyes closed you may hear your own story.
when i wrote this piece, 21 years ago or so, i knew it needed to swirl around the theme, travel from one key to another, return to its theme…have continuity yet have places where it started again. in celebrating my sweet momma and dad this week with the introduction of my song YOU’RE THE WIND it brought me back to my deepest roots, transplanted time and again though they may be. no matter what, i will always be a northeast girl. new york is in my blood and long island is ever a part of my heart.
where i’m from…it’s time ago…it’s now…it’s what’s to come.
if you listen you can hear the tide. in and out…like day, like experiences, like finding home. it changes. it’s the same.
it would be 75 today. 75 years since the day my sweet momma and poppo married. and so, i am sharing two videos here today – the first is a dedication and the other is my song YOU’RE THE WIND. because i know you are. the wind. to each other and to each of us here on earth who miss and love you. always.
spoiler alert to the girl, the boy, family and friends: do not be surprised if one of your christmas/holiday presents from us is a shirt or sweatshirt or hat that says “AS YOU IS”.
we encountered michael at the farmers’ market one beautiful saturday when the sun was warm and the yellow jackets plentiful. i was drawn to the simple stand of breeze-fluttering t-shirts, the saying AS YOU IS on the banner and the byline “big boned or small featured. thick-haired or bald-headed. married or single. A or C student. white or black or in-between. male or female. or in-between.” we stopped to talk. i’m so glad we did.
michael was disarmingly charming and honest and zealous and positive – a breath of fresh air in a world that seems to be full of negativity and judgment these days. he spoke of the origins of his cottage business and his simple philosophy, arrived at through years of painful learning and experience and after a long career outside of this new mission. we could relate to him. he told us the point of AS YOU IS: “As You Is” is a rally cry for anyone and everyone that has a good heart, regardless of race, color, faith, age, gender, nationality, physical or mental limitations, or appearance.
the pull to stay and talk was strong, but that would have precluded michael from introducing others at the market to his new line, his new business. and so, we grabbed business cards, asked him to design some sweatshirts as well and continued on our way. but AS YOU IS has remained in our conversations together. his AS YOU IS. our (sweet momma/beaky-inspired) BE KIND. twinsies.
i suspect we will seek michael out to talk some more. because chatting with someone about acceptance and hope and goodness is, as michael says, one hella gift.
As You Is® was created to start conversations…to cause total strangers to smile…to make people think…to get others to feel so accepted they break out in impromptu dance…and to put a serious chink in the armor of racism.
Our hope is one day children can embrace being uniquely themselves, where they feel safe being different and where old people – like our founder Michael Fornwald – can age gracefully or ungracefully sans self-contempt.
Please join us by infecting others with hope one hella cool t-shirt or cap at a time.
words of wisdom from jessie holmes (a sled dog racer) of national geographic’s life below zero…such a simple truth. you can’t start in the middle….of the race, of the book, of the career, of the relationship, of the challenge, of the hallway that sits in-between one door closing and another opening. you have to show up at the starting line and experience all of it. wanting to avoid the pain, the ambiguity, the not-knowing-how-it-will-turn-out, we try to skip a stone from the start to the finish, but – if you picture a pinball machine and the ball careening off flippers and bumpers – we know that there are many variables and any one move will change where the steel ball will go next. just like life.
in a statement of the obvious, “you cannot play your pinball machine without the playfield.”(pinballsales.com) in jessie’s equally obvious but oh-so-poignantly-true statement, yes…you “can’t show up at the finish line without showing up at the starting line.” it all counts.
