I can smell it.
The carcass of whom I used to be.
There’s a lingering. A faint but unmistakable vapor all around. I let it pass.
Old memories resurface. Old ways of being come to the window.
Outside gazing inside.
I hear a tap.
They want to come back in and play but winter is here; no windows shall be opened today.
Last week, I found myself running around trying to make things happen. Pulling a broad array of strings in the hopes of creating a grand tapestry. Just like the old days. Just like the life I left for dead about a year ago.
I recall my time in Kerala. On the roof of where I died. I caress the memory of when all of me came to a stop. That inner voice whispering ‘’aren’t you sick and tired of all these stories?’’
Personal tales of who, why and what we are have a tendency to linger and they hang around the place for a while. On the prowl for an opening. A way to ease back in.
A gift to neverendingly exercise the freedom of choice.
But I come bearing news. Tired of these stories, I choose to live without em.
Emptiness fits me like a well tailored glove.
And so I find myself at Le Verre Bouteille for an evening of musical ‘’carte blanche’’.
Jean Flex on piano, Salomé Perli on violin and Charles Viguerie on sound treatment.
There’s a lot that can be said on the subject of great music, classy lights and a smoke machine. It’s the stuff of dreams. Huffin’ and puffin’ in and out of states of consciousness.
A Freshness imbues the melodies. The tone is warm. The rhythm is slow and intentional.
Tonight is one last goodbye for JeanFlex who goes back to the old land of France on the morrow.
One last gig for the road.
I can’t help but swim into the atmosphere of smoky emotional jazz. I am reminded of the farewells into new beginnings and the rebirths of everyday living.
As weird as this may sound on paper: the realness of this tender sliver of time and space is immensely tangible. I could hold it in my hands if I wanted to.
Standing at the precipice of a blank page, the ink is eager to roll the ball and splanter between the lines drawn by existence.
But, there’s a waiting.
Tonight, I have the honor to be immersed by that in-between space.
A good friend leaves
Another walks in the door
I remain firmly rooted on the bar stool, painting away words of what is, what could be and what may never come to pass.
The tapestry of Life is already so overwhelmingly grandiose, I remember to pay attention to all the gifts that were here first and chase a little less what is just out of reach.
With humility and grace, I am reminded, once again, the greatest of all adventures is the present moment and the gratitude of simply being.
Farewell to you my friend, may the road ahead bequest forth joy and exciting discoveries!
