At this time of year (where I am anyhow!) there's a lot of death going on, it's all about rot and decay and the shedding of skin. The light dwindles, the leaves fall and we must face the reality of the leap into the unknown.
Every moment is, in truth, a complete unknown. We convince ourselves that we know our routine, that we will follow our day in the manner we expect to and fulfill at least some of our planned activities or chores. In truth, we have no idea what the world will bring to our door in any given moment. The illusion of the known world is in its entirety, a defensive front giving us the impression that there is any control or sense of logical consequence governing our fragile little lives.
As a performer, I'm pretty good at front. I can pull out of the bag any number of facades to wear as a protective mantle. Invisibility cloaks can be all singing, all dancing spectacles to distract, divert and deceive, even and perhaps especially our own eye.
That's just human, it's just what we do to look after ourselves on a regular pedestrian basis, but it is interesting to take a good deep look at what's underneath, to peel back the old skin, crack the shell, drop the leaves and bear witness to the simple truth of naked limbs.
The meat of the nut might not be what we were hoping to find, or what we identify as ourselves, but it is honest.
With vulnerability comes openness and the opportunity to invite significant change and growth.
There is so much stimulation in our world and I delight in it. It is scintillating, enriching and exciting to be so surrounded by the creative harvest from millennia of human perspective and perceptivity. As an artist, I contribute to that sensational soup with my own musical interpretation of what I see in my world, but one of my favourite pieces of feedback about my music has been that it is "A great antidote to a hectic week" Steve Muscutt, Music Muso because I like to think that I might sometimes manage to write from that honest little kernel that knows absolutely nothing.