Improviser & Dreamer on Holistic Music

Keith Jarrett

"There's never been a time when improvisation was given the respect it deserved. By virtue of the holistic quality of it, it takes everything to do it, it takes real-time, no editing possible, it takes your nervous system to be on alert for every possible thing in a way that can not be said for any other kind of music."

Interviewer

"How important are other things in influencing the way you think?"

Keith Jarrett

"More important than music!"

Interviewer

"Like writing, philosophy?

Keith Jarrett

"More important than music...One of the biggest fallacies I think, in art circles and in music circles maybe when people talk about it is that music comes from music...music is the result of a process the musician's going through, especially if he's creating it on the spot."

- from "Keith Jarrett - The Art of Improvisation"

_______

With family in Israel, a live drum and bass duo explode the stage in a spark plug of sonic smithereens. The audience is drowned out in a hemp haze of blistering monitors which fuss and blow like a spiked gourd of grog. I am reminded of music by OM. This isn’t the right crowd. The auditorium audience begins to split as a punk metal doom bit hits incendiary in the mathematical freeze of anti-traditional musical formulae. As people begin to clear out, I take up a clarinet I had recently played on in the upper tiers of my consciousness on Earth. The subconscious knows the notes. Explorative and experimental I dash the family reunion and mystifying context of concert for my own harmonious bout with sound, bleeding through the fire of an impassioned reed. I stimulate the Earth with sounds of disbelief freed.  

______

Guitar

"Upon hearing the weird music of a guitar, the dreamer should fortify herself against flattery and soft persuasion, for she is in danger of being tempted by a fascinating evil. If the dreamer be a man, he will be courted, and will be likely to lose his judgement under the wiles of seductive women. If you play on a guitar, your family affairs will be harmonious." (iDream)

______

Astral Chamber

meeting completely rapt
& immersed
with clear exacting light
(without bright glare)

miraculous breath of spirit
allowing greater sight
drowning one inward
there      apparent
she        ghosts ever near
to wrap and envelop me
in the Act

March 9, 2011

Chinatown Calgary. Bedside.

Unanswerable Sufferings of Sleep, a Q&A

lovers on an island by Anna Chromy

Q:

I am wondering what you would say about someone who wakes up with having recalled no dreams .. are we always dreaming and just can't recall and what does that mean??? last night again I was woken up by my spouse yelling in his dream .. it's amazing that he does not awaken but I do .. I guess that has to do with what type or cycle of sleep you are in..

A:

I've heard that we do indeed always dream, though it's a problem of memory whether we can remember the substance of our subconscious imagination during REM cycles. For certain cultures and traditions of varying times and origins, reflecting on dreams is an essential daily practice, as common to us as reading, watching TV, exercising, etc. It is a belief that such dream reflection, if you will, opens doors and provides keys to otherwise hidden aspects of ourselves. In our history, western psychology only caught up to the wisdom of interactive dream cultures existent throughout human history and still remote corners of the globe, based on the work of Carl Jung, who purported to exercise the notion that dreaming is the reality and our waking consciousness is made up entirely of myth, symbol, and such inert vanities as are controlled by our subconscious drives.

________

The night before we were to leave for the states I clicked purchase on my laptop while sleepwalking. The next day I called my mother. “A forty dollar purchase!” I spent the entire morning trying to return it. Meanwhile, my wife and I prepare to travel across the border from Canada. This has not been an easy for us in the past. Unbeknownst to me, she prepares her computer. As usual, in the final minutes before we leave my wife begins to mind our departure. As she walks into the bathroom, my mother and grandparents surprise us in our house. Simultaneously, my wife zips through the washroom doorway, shirtless. I talk my relatives down as I begin to re-assess our travel preparations. Trouble stews in the bathroom. She is cornered by border patrol in our own private bathroom! They threaten to confiscate her hard drive for security purposes. She goes into shock. I can feel her anxiety and fear, nightmarish and certain as day. I can’t help but accompany her in distress. Walking through an unknown labyrinth in my bathroom, I’m unable to see any one. I’m lost. The shower emanates with an opaque quagmire of steam. Groped thighs and high chests creak like wood in unspoken sexual majesty. Forbidden flights breach a proud, open humanity with a love forsaken beyond scrutiny, to instinctual rites of passionate floundering in the cruel pain of the body’s lowering, prehistoric travesties. Weak with sanity, I become raw with self-doubt, admiring and at once twisted inside. Where is my Love? We are far from family.  

_______

Computer

"The computer is saying 'put the pieces together to understand the overall meaning'...if you use a computer a lot during your waking life for work or play, your dream could be telling you to get out more and take a break from the screen."

_______

The unchallenged lurch into an Olympian fire,
brushing off the wintry air with a scent of northern herbs
collected by remote, yearning hands

The woman-philosopher, seated in absolute disguise behind a curtain of folk knowledge
beguiles the most aware onlookers, who know of the perfect scrutiny of knowledge
as an aspect of a specific place.”

“Knowledge is a performance for the Spirits!”

Light sparks rescind the importance of global community to a physical presence
holding each of our bodies with local sacrifice.

Fumes of wonderment & bewildered attraction fuel the traveler’s possessions with cathartic activity.

“And Life, is ongoing pleasure!”

“…What about suffering?”

Respect, communicated through body language, reciprocates

“I don’t have all the answers…”

- excerpt from "Catatonic Body Language"

Shelley and the Old Man: A Poetics of Wisdom

The Bard by John Martin (1817)

"...Thou hast unveiled thy inmost sanctuary,
Enough from incommunicable dream,
And twilight phantasms, and deep noon-day thought,
Has shone within me, that serenely now
And moveless, as a long-forgotten lyre
Suspended in the solitary dome
Of some mysterious and deserted fane,
...
By solemn vision, and bright silver dream
His infancy was nurtured. Every sight
And sound from the vast earth and ambient air,
Sent to his heart its choicest impulses.
...
Enamoured, yet not daring for deep awe
To speak her love:—and watched his nightly sleep,
Sleepless herself, to gaze upon his lips
Parted in slumber, whence the regular breath
Of innocent dreams arose; then, when red morn
Made paler the pale moon, to her cold home
Wildered, and wan, and panting, she returned.
...
Beside a sparkling rivulet he stretched
His languid limbs. A vision on his sleep
There came, a dream of hopes that never yet
Had flushed his cheek. He dreamed a veiled maid
Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones.
Her voice was like the voice of his own soul
Heard in the calm of thought; its music long,
Like woven sounds of streams and breezes, held
His inmost sense suspended in its web
Of many-coloured woof and shifting hues.
Knowledge and truth and virtue were her theme,
And lofty hopes of divine liberty,
Thoughts the most dear to him, and poesy,
Herself a poet.
...
The spirit of sweet human love has sent
A vision to the sleep of him who spurned
Her choicest gifts. He eagerly pursues
Beyond the realms of dream that fleeting shade;
He overleaps the bounds.
...
At night the passion came,
Like the fierce fiend of a distempered dream,
And shook him from his rest, and led him forth
Into the darkness.
...
the infant would conceal
His troubled visage in his mother's robe
In terror at the glare of those wild eyes,
To remember their strange light in many a dream
Of after-times
...
"Vision and Love!"
The Poet cried aloud, "I have beheld
The path of thy departure. Sleep and death
Shall not divide us long."
...
The meeting boughs and implicated leaves
Wove twilight o'er the Poet's path, as led
By love, or dream, or god, or mightier Death,
He sought in Nature's dearest haunt some bank,
Her cradle, and his sepulchre.
...
His eyes beheld
Their own wan light through the reflected lines
Of his thin hair, distinct in the dark depth
Of that still fountain; as the human heart,
Gazing in dreams over the gloomy grave,
Sees its own treacherous likeness there.
...
a dream
Of youth, which night and time have quenched for ever,
Still, dark, and dry, and unremembered now..."

- excerpts from "Alastor, or The Spirit of Solitude" by Percy Bysshe Shelley

_________

Family festivity! What a roomful of browning noses and brooding eyescapes bleary and peering into the torn pages of emotive remorse, a frequented gasp into the play of genetic strays. Weary, from this we’re born. There is a host of catastrophic laughter, a smiling malaise, distant, nonplussed and concealed with grief all too human. Yet, I am a cheerful sprite. I skip with light movement in between ready-corpsed waylays, the stench of old age drowns the mind in nude happenstance, a picture-perfect stream of inglorious rage, quieted in the mass of group idiocy, stuffing faces with swine and blush. There are those ready to die, they leave through the front door, on crutches, helped by their offspring followers. My grandfather sits, patient as an ancient boulder beneath an old-growth tree, situated in the midst of a construction site. The virgin forest turns to city, as the violent youth pleads with flashy spirituality around the bloody host of tempting boobs and the freewheeling ghosts of enraged awe in the music of the muse. All know me now. A writer! Proud with inherent jealousy, they retch in the folly of pure floosy. Ear to ear my lips point to the insanity ensued, on the asylum Earth with starlight kin, ever distant, asking, “Who flew?”

________

Old Man
"Carl Jung said that the wise old man is the 'archetype of the spirit' and the 'speaking fountainhead of the soul.' Dreaming about him may attempt to bring the dreamer into awareness of the larger meaning of one's life. Old people in dreams represent wisdom and maturity. They may appear in our dream at times of confusion and lack of direction, or when we need consultation and help in decision-making."

________

Land of the Children

“Where are we?”

“Land of the children...
though we so want to see god in this lawless factory of memory stored overnight
flickering wildly on the cinematic map of a deep sleep dream,
forgotten with ease and well-fed stupidity,

grinning with slick hair and smoking against the fact of a quickly approaching change
to inspire the muse of the Forgotten.”

“Was it a dream?”

“Not all of it…”

706pm. Feb 22.

On a plane to Seattle. Sitting in between two middle-aged men. A delay northward.

Weathering Tornados from The Lover's Music

Vi An Music

"If we go somewhere on foot, we know the way perfectly, whereas if we go by car or airplane, we are hardly there at all. It becomes merely a dream." 

Excerpt from "Meditation in Action" by Chogyam Trungpa

_______

On my way to see my Love! She’s giving a presentation in a high tower, what a glorious teacher she is, a teacher in secret, with hidden wisdom and enlightening prophecy leaking clean out of a package of such humble eloquence.

The road is dry in the warm, new summer air. I see a woodwind shop to my left. A Xaphoon, hanging in the wall! Why, I do have one at home, but that one looks so beautiful today! I have been enjoying this instrument so very much, but I think I’ll have to buy another for the special occasion that is this day. In the shop, a saleswoman is short with me. No extra conversation ensues despite my attempts after I’ve decided on their only functioning Xaphoon. For the $30 I walk away with my new instrument, smiling quaintly in sweet visions for the day, gaily in love.

I arrive to the towering silver building. Strangely, I decide on the stairs. Massive windows bedeck the entirety of the walls, the low plains stretch as a mercilessly singular mural throughout. I find the room of my love’s presentation. There she is; a ghost of decadence, beauty, a word in her honor, is unready for its true name. In her presence I am light with the fresh gold of summer dreams. Her hair is bunched and flowing, the gargantuan black mass swells and streams down her side as a mythical waterfall of visceral lust, untouched and unrivaled by any substance beside. As I move in closer to her, weary as not to interrupt her occasion, a mirror image of her hair in the sky appears!

A black, icy fleece of cloud boils upside-down into the gleaming pasture, a wild tornado approaches! “This is a building of glass!” I scream weakly and run alone back into the stairwell to find sanctuary. The tornado crashes violently. A 9/11 of natural law brews gravely in the high destruction. The crude aftermath burns with electric ash as the ruins fume, awaiting the ever-darkening sky for yet another whiplash. Too afraid to return above, I journey onward outside of the city core, with instrument in hand, I dreamily invoke the unmoved trust of community in the survivalist reign of mounting fear from the shape-shifting sky above. Human vibrancy responds coolly in the aftermath of lost pain.

_________

Tornado

"If you dream that you are in a tornado, you will be filled with disappointment and perplexity over the miscarriage of studied plans for swift attainment of fortune...Tornadoes in dreams suggest you are very angry about a current situation and are afraid to express your feelings - which you need to do - for fear of hurting others."

________

Echoes from the polar wisdom of our earthly rotation
unraveling the truth in the thousand-worded letter
and pictographs of ethereal meaning
climbing through the bowels of a holy mountain
to the void of spiritual absence
in the land of prophets
unheard since ancient words lifted
to the ceiling of the temple built before time

On the sands of the strong & fuming,
leaving no one to posit an older order of belief

In sky temples & borders that signal friendship
enmity awaits in the selfish vine
a mark where the western mind strayed too far
to become its own enemy
in the reflexive mold of war
for basic rights.

- excerpt from "Royalty of the Weird" 

Vibrant Dream Colours from Water Fasting

Fasting & Dream - Water & Lime cleanse, 7 days

Details: dreams are very realistic, relaxing without unusual, frightening tangents, if I noticed weather, colors or textures in the dream it was always very pristine, a lot of conversation style dreams, where when I haven’t fasted I don’t recall ever having dreams when conversations ever made sense or went anywhere, though conversations in dreams when water fasting was similar to having a conversation in daily life, it wasn’t disjointed or restricting, speech was very flowing, surroundings are extraordinarily vivid and lucid, upon eating again, bad dreams return...

_______

An Iranian friend, steeped in the tragic wisdom of silence, broods in a shadowy corner. His long Sufi beard and uncut hair masks him in an aura of incredulous perfection, looking from stolid eyes at my cowering brother. We are in a room of ghastly hosts, a live auction of sorts, only to entice participants in creative performance. “Create art to reflect your dearest love relationship!” The auctioneer steams with cacophonous temptation. My love stands upon the stage, white and delicate. Throwing myself in a purge of color and form, I choose vermillion, ebony and a touch of cobalt. The canvas thins over a pale, dried grass and carpet springing untamed from the welcoming floor. Without impediment, I stretch a rudimentary sheath of black over the rough medium. Paint filters in between the cracks as I begin to include a light bluish, red-bordered sailboat along the top of the canvas. I draw with unknown talent, creating instantaneous angles and exacting renditions of my sailing ego upon a clashing infinitude of ocean waves. The ebony drips flat with humongous brush strokes into the saturated grass and carpet thread, conveying icy death in the storm clouds beyond. The ship tosses, animate in the innumerable play of dancing strain on the veld of sea and sky. Livid vermillion lies agape near the sun-opened crests, stark, aflame, directing the sail away from the inexorable closing of opaque storm ahead. I embrace my love, unafraid.  

_______

Painting

"Dreams about painting often signify renewal and emotional growth for the dreamer...The painting is symbolic of your intuition and inner realizations." (iDream)

_______

“A beautiful body

gone cold with death,

yet still contained in glad purpose

towards another weary world decay

feeding sacred bushes that smoke & thin in the desert winter

blinded on sandy beaches, hidden beneath a glade & cliff,

as profaned skeletal thunderbirds fly with mouths shut

before a lunar god dreams a song inside another human.”

All so caught up and timed

each finger presses against her hair

and her snoring wink uncovers a madness in spring

bringing together all things in the mystery of continuity

- excerpt from "Repeated Dance of the Fluid Earth"

Vietnam! Your Season Is Eternal!

Maimed Poet

"I sometimes have this dream of leaving the temple to return home. I dream my fingers have grown back and the swelling on my face has subsided. I dream that I have with me a dozen baskets of my best white lotuses and travel to the floating market of my youth. As I approach the women I would free all of my lotuses into the water and watch them float through the market like a white river. It would be then that I had finally returned home. Set free and pure. Then I would wake up into the black night and realize it was simply a dream, one of many that will never be fulfilled."

Lotus-Seller

"It is not too late."

Maimed Poet

"It is late. It is later than you realize"

- from "Ba Mua" (3 Seasons)

"My body is like the jackfruit,
Its skin prickly, its meat thick.
If you want to test it, then drive in your stake,
Don't fondle the surface, or sap will stain your hand."
("The Jackfruit")

- Ho Xuan Huong, Queen of Nom Poetry

Listen to Vietnamese Folk Poetry

Where is that land, worth fighting for, worth dying for, loving and dreaming for? 

Where is that land stronger than our Western fathers, who defeated the brunt of genocidal ambition, and lived to tell the tale?

______

We both walk into a building. There is old, thick carpeting. I smell musk and old, lingering dust. Chinatown, very mildew-filled atmosphere with dusty, we walk into a building. A set of stairs leads us left. We walk into a room with many bleachers looking towards a stage. We walk up the steps and we find our seats. It’s theatre seating. I notice two young men who are now much older. When I met them they were elementary school kids and now they are adults. They grew up with me in our apartment complex, upstairs. We notice that there is a kind of Taoist ceremony happening in front of the stage. There seems to be somebody in the right corner of the stage, appearing as a schoolteacher or Taoist priest, accompanied by a luthier. The luthier is fixing three Koto instruments on stage. I take note of the three Koto instruments; they are very old and large. When I went up to them, I realized they were very cheap. They were just effigies for a ritual, paying homage to something unknown. I found myself walking out of the auditorium into another neighbourhood. 

I quickly realized my husband was no longer with me. I found myself in a workshop. There were construction workers, male and female in overalls, squatting on the ground, hammering and working on things. I noticed one guy was the site manager. I wanted to impress him. I started working on something. He said, “you know, we pay $25/hour here.” I said, “I could take on this job.” He said, “You’ll work ten hours here.” The whole time I was thinking about my husband, wondering where I was. As the sequence progressed and I kept working harder, lifting wood planks and wires, I was doing really well. It came time to leave. I picked up my shoes, bags and coat. I walked towards the door. The manager looks at me, chuckling. “You wish your husband was here right now,” he said. “More than you know.” I said. There you were, gazing at me with loving eyes. He’s right behind me. I was totally taken back, embracing you tightly. I rested my head on his chest and said, “My love, you saved my life.” He responded, “I’m here to walk you home.” My heart pulse became more regular. I smile.  

________

Work

"To look for work, means that you will be benefited by some unaccountable occurrence." (iDream)

________

“Look...to the horizon!”

“How prophetic…”

“Be patient...look!”

“Give me your gun.”

The creature defies the boundaries of human sight
on Earth.
A rarity unspoken.

“Something to tell the grandkids about!”

“Don’t say a word.”

- excerpt from "To The Horizon"