keeping it going

It's finally happened. I've hit a wall. I don't know what to write about. As a result, I'm tempted not to write at all. I can't help but feel that would be a mistake though. Recently I started reading Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott. It's a book about her writing process, experiences and lessons. I've only just cracked the cover, but one of the first lessons she gives is to keep writing, even when you feel like you may not have anything in particular to say. So, here I am.

I can't say that I'm experiencing a lack of inspiration or a distance from the constant flowing river or emotions. What I have been feeling this past week is a distance from any one particular album or record. I am always listening to music. Always. My mother seems to worry that I don't allow myself enough silence. But it's not an obsession, it's a choice. Music to me is life giving. Of course, I do go through "dry spells" every now and then, when it's hard to choose what to play, when I can't decide whether I need something quiet or something loud, something instrumental or something abstract. During those periods I usually go to what's familiar. I have standbys - Radiohead, Wilco, Fleet Foxes, Mogwai, Getz/Gilberto and Neko Case, to name a few. Every now and then something different breaks through, I will hear something new, even if in something old, and that's usually what gets me out of the dry spell.

I'm starting to find those new things. Four Tet's song "And They All Look Brokenhearted" from the excellent Rounds has been one of them. I have listened to that album countless times but I'm hearing this song in a different way now. It has come to represent the continuous struggle to find balance, to maintain a personal sense of stillness. It is a musical metaphor for inner peace. The bass and the strings move underneath the track throughout, representing a constant, a still beauty. There are times in the song when they stand alone, confident. You feel quiet and clear. There are more times when this stillness is disrupted though. The percussion tries to add to the still sound it but it ends up covering it, drowning it out. The drums never quite find their place, they stumble and they confuse our peace. You sense that a battle is happening. The bass, the strings, that quiet sound, is struggling to be heard. It's not an easy song to listen to. It's difficult, just like our own struggle for inner peace and I've found the song to be incredibly comforting. It's the soundtrack for the daily struggles in my life.

Perhaps recognizing that struggle and allowing for grace and patience within it is what has offered me a new sense of freedom. I have been recognizing again that I have time to do new things, that there is plenty of life to live and that I am loved. In a strange way that recognition has fueled a desire to listen to something loud, something big. I could think of nothing more perfect than the hard hitting heavy metal/hard rock of the Japanese trio Boris. Their album Heavy Rocks has been blaring from my apartment and car stereo. Metal is something I rarely listen to. It's actually too loud for me, it's too overwhelming. After two or three songs I no longer have a sense of dynamics, it's just a constant wall of sound with one emotion - rage. Boris is a magnificent exception. They blast things wide open, but they also know how to pull off the throttle a bit and coast in the turns. They are more than metal. They are drone and psychedelic and punk and a rock genre melding machine. They may not sing in English, but they have been quenching my thirst for something large and earth shaking.

I suppose that much like writing, it's important for me to keep listening to music, even when I'm not sure why or what to listen to. They are both outlets, a place to find hidden emotions or a way of expressing things not yet said. Eventually, I'll find something that has meaning, something that speaks to me. Whether it's music or writing or reading or art or sewing or fabric...it's good to give the things we love a chance to open us up even more. There's no telling what God will do with it.