Sitting around waiting to see what I thought wasn’t there yet, dreaming of the ideal and longing for the past’s tender memories. I unfolded what my mind always told me to fear, I listened to the voice my ears insisted on neglecting. I acknowledged the face I dared not to look, and I embraced the truth awaiting. These songs came at a most vulnerable moment; when I ceased to resist the inevitable, when my hand was no longer holding onto anything, when nothingness was the only thing lingering in my mind. From that point forth, observing, questioning, reflecting, and trusting became the path to follow.
As a child I left a place of origin I was told to identify as home, and for countless years ahead I embarked on the never ending task of dressing myself up with layers upon layers of the things I thought would reflect “home” and define myself. I sought refuge in symbols and language, in musical expressions and traditions, in objects and customs, in musical instruments and songs. In culture, or what the world imposed on me as culture. Collecting all of it and placing every single thing on a pedestal before me. This pedestal over time became large, dense, heavy, indescribable, unconscious. I became oblivious to my surroundings, to my reality; everything beyond it I could not see, or I refused to see. My view was limited, many things became invisible. And the idea of what I had always known to be home was diluted and overclouded by uncertainty.
Throughout this relentless effort to define myself, I realized I had to stop trying to identify with everything I held dear and the truths these things represented. And instead, manifest my own truth, my own voice through all of these experiences, past and present. And so, everything thereafter was no longer an icon to worship, but rather part of the foundation, part of the solid ground to manifest my personal history, to defy identity and free my voice to start my own dialogue with the world.
This music is the crux of what my story has been thus far, it is an allusion to the worlds that wrought me. The movement which continues not as a forward line but as a spiral, constantly rotating around the same place of origin, growing and changing as it moves. Because in the end we are just like the water–it can solidify, liquify or evaporate, but the essence always remains the same. Like the tree–exposed to its surroundings, but not defined by them. The core within holds the truth, the seed to be sowed; it is free to be carried by the wind–wherever it may go.
This is my story… Thank you for the chance!