I stopped, picked up a guitar and began to sing.
I thought that I sang to open your heart. I discovered that I sang to open my own heart.
I discovered that I sang to lift my own spirit.
I have spent most of my life focusing on art that connected me with the deep inner emotions of human existence. I have searched for songs, sculptures, psalms, poetry, paintings, photos, movies and media that would make me stop, drink deep, feel the pain or see the vision of the artist, accept the trials of my own life and help my companions battle through their own difficulties. I have searched for potions to sooth, calm and tame my own anxieties. I have searched for inspiration to fill my heart. I have searched for medicine to comfort myself through the long periods of healing.
Among other things, sad songs became that medication. Their beauty and simplicity helped me release the hurt in my heart. They had the ability to help me connect with pain when I had become numb to everything else. Sad songs were my medication.
But they were not just a drug. They helped me communicate. They helped me realize that communication is the best healing mechanism that exists. They helped me realize that whether it was shouting, chanting, dancing, singing, rolling around on the floor, spinning, making noise or any other focused expression I was communicating, connecting and channeling an emotion.
My songs became my therapy and true therapy transforms the artist. The artist should be healed or reborn through acceptance into a new presence and once they have been transformed they can empathize with there own sickness but they cannot tap into its emotional value without stunting their own growth and transformation or unconsciously creating more of their own problems. Medicating the healthy creates sickness.
As for production: the power is not in the production, the power is in the intention. In fact I have always felt that the less production in the art the closer to emotion I could get. Not that all production and producers were wrong but producers that did not hear the artists only watered down the potency of the medication. They only blurred the vision.
All of this has brought up the question: Does our art become us or do we become our art? I believe it is a bit of both, but I am most worried about the second. When we speak our hearts we are sending our truths out into the world. The world listens it reflects or echoes those truths right back. It cannot be expected to educate, heal or focus those truths. This is the job of the artist. In order to learn we must actively participate. To truly heal ourselves we must also focus on the healing sounds, visions, words and actions. To truly find our happiness we must say what we want. We must ask to be joyful. We must ask for happiness. We must ask for justice. We must sing of kindness. We must focus our minds on what we find to be beautiful and, even if we do not receive our requests, we will at least travel in that direction.
May your journey be long. May you find joy in every step.
