I am certain that the waters that flow into the veins of all mankind can feel the moment when awe and wonder reappear. There in a pocket, is a discovered button, a single peppermint scooped up and tucked away for another time when a sweet tooth calls for a refreshing ahah moment. The doorways of enchantment are seen in the corners of a room waiting for redecorating with live red berry vines carefully stapled into the kitchen window. In as much as there are dreams, and blue willow plates set out for tea; there are friends that come to visit.
On the balcony a man lights a candle in the moonlight, waiting for one encouraging call from a night owl that waits out the late with him in solid hoots that echo through the trees. No, I am not making this up, these moments happened. They are collected in my memory like a living scrapbook. I look up to the stars glinted and faceted as clouds mover through in an opalescent glaze of silver light, constant and unassuming of their sheer natural beauty. It comes to them in the original fire of that which they are born of and now live on in a new form.
Moving now into the golden turn where nothing is secret and only love prevails to hold us all together… I feel the kindness of lakes slowly swooshing sensually onto the shore. Out in the woods the leaves rustle and bend the tree to dance, “where are you it sings, where have you gone? Are you knotting the tails to the kite? Are you playing the song from the old 78? Have you read the cereal box today and drank the milk from the bottom of the bowl?”
Pieces of precious past times are neatly chipped out of my memory box, made into beads that I wear around my ankles to remind me of the time I walked barefoot through the grass.
Cinematic track for Journey of Fairy Tales – Opening paragraph
The journey was arduous, not even the brightest bird could follow across the stormy seas, but in Isla’s heart was a brave, and bold resolve to make it across the turbulent waters; however tumultuous the ride may become was of no matter. To be dissuaded or abandon the cause was out of the question; for she knew there was a treasure worthy of saving, if not for his kingdom but for herself, and all the children of Emeria to follow. There was a faint whisper of fragrant jasmine in the air. She could hear the children of yesterday offering burning incense, waved into wispy, curling prayers upwards through the universe, their hearts one wind chime; floating their joyous callings to the heavens. Their prayers saw their way through deep space and further yet out across the sea. The waves rocked the boat, pouring it forward over the crests closer to the shore. The Books of Leaves stolen from the heart of Emeria, would be recaptured in time.
I wasn’t a very quite child by nature. I talked a lot, and thought everyone should listen to me. I thought that it was expected of me to keep the conversation going, or maybe I was a little to precocious to know any better. Fortunately for me I believed in everything I said and felt confident in expressing myself. Oftentimes I emulated the best of my made up characters from my imagination; trying on personalities like hats. I was creating myself from plays, and movies that I admired; I was the song that I wrote on, inventing harmonies for the present moments I found myself in. I always sang. That was who I liked being best of all. Life was a musical, and when it wasn’t, I was bored, detached from who I really was. It was a more than a pastime; it was a state of…
Laura Botsford is an artist. And I don’t just mean in the musical sense. Visual arts are also a creative outlet for her. Collages seem to be a speciality of hers and when it comes to music, this also seems to be her strength, musical collages, or as Laura calls them “I coalesce the vapors”.
This album fuses a number of genres and collects a wide variety of instruments as well. The danger with this style of production, is amalgamating mismatched themes and instruments, leading to a cacophony of sound that never settles down to be a listenable, engaging tune. Well thankfully, Laura has not fallen into that unfortunate, well worn rut, that so many producers end up in. “Aquarium Funk” is engaging and musical on so many levels and well worth your listening time. If you are a fan of Jazz, Hip Hop, Soul and a melting pot of…
Tonight I watched American Masters on PBS that featured our Lady of Country, Loretta Lynn. It is something of a revelation and a surprise to relive and hear the paths of influence in my own song writing through the influences of such great songwriters like Loretta, Johnny Cash, and Hank Williams. I was taken back to the moments of my life where I had immersed myself in their nuances, poetry and chords over the years, and took their hands down those same turn rows into country fields, real life story telling, and yes, ached along with them in each note and word.
It’s been awhile since I wrote story telling songs, as I wish for the days to return when I would write with friends, and hear their artful and authentic contributions to the song; this longing is indeed it’s own unfinished song of unrequited partnerships. There is beauty in collaboration. This part of the documentary really resonated with me. Garth and Trisha defined it the best I have ever heard said.
My Grandfather loved the Sons of the Pioneers and all singing cowboys. I think we were the only ones in the family that did. My parents liked Jazz and Swing, female balladeers of sweet persuasion, but there in the spinning of old 78’s, I found a home in country songs that reached out with simplicity and those sweet harmonies.
I have always loved singing this song of Hank Williams. The melody winds out like a train, and the lyrics are clouds across the moon, I can imagine that only the crickets chorused along when this was written. My recording of it isn’t the best, so I hope you’ll hear past it to feel the poetry of this well written classic.
So, I’ll just ride off into the sunset for the night with heartfelt appreciation to all the country storytellers, and cowboy romance novels that have touched my heart and moved me along into “my slow moving dreams.”
Surely a dream must have a song, this is a classic common tale that we all share.
Why do I love this song? is it because it reminds me of my childhood? Or perhaps speaks of dreams coming true? Yes, all the best of life fulfilled eventually, after the longing, in the sweet sadness of life’s woes and disappointments.
There in the heart of everyone is this universal truth, somewhere we can escape to, someplace where we can live our dreams. It is a common calling that comes with being born. No matter your fortune, good or lack of, there is always something we want to make right, to have or be delivered from. In a world of such diverse contrasts, it is an ignitable presence in all of our lives that resonates at our core and surely seeks a hopeful distraction.
The story of the artist is a breath page from a book found written long ago in the halls of a poet’s dreams, written with nature’s brushes in quiet places where evening subsides into stillness. The images and sounds can be found like bells waiting to be rung. Only some find that these apparitions are fleeting, vivid, and then disappear as one wakes suspended between reality and dreams. It is in this regard that the desire for the ability to hold the flame, and channel the river is what we have come to talk about in this book. It is where the in-between moments are saved and savored, scribed in detail for a lasting reflection of guidance and support.
It is also for those that feel that they are lost in the spheres’ of indifference, casually displaced like mismatched shoes and…