I have been on a journey through the jungle hiding karmic life lessons that one needs to go through to find myself home again in myself.
It was one dark winter night I spent all alone in a mysterious house with the piano. I heard this song in my head, I don’t know where it came from but it felt like a some kind of a message from somewhere that is not our world. It got me very puzzled and I visited my gifted friend Rax to dive together into the world of spirits.I’ll tell you more soon.
17.11 – New York
Last night was rad.
We played two gigs in a row and afterwards had the craziest party with the people who came.And of course with my New York friends. I have so many beautiful people around me.We celebrated life through making music and then celebrated the fact that we know how to celebrate life. I’ll never forget that suncircle. (Is there an English word that people use for talking about the whole 24 hours of a day?In Icelandic there is “sólarhringur”, which means “sun’s circle”. )
Long time ago I got stopped by a stranger on the streets of New York. She looked deeply into my eyes and then took out a little package, saying: “Keep it for a day you feel like you there’s nothing more to lose”. I took it and had been carrying it secretly with me in my pocket every single day. Until one day there was really nothing much more left to lose.
It’s snowing like crazy.
I’m taking the subway this morning.Moments of
-waiting for a train to arrive
-waiting on a train to arrive (some place)
have always been the times when ideas find me.
But everything is so fast here in New York City. Especially trains. You have time only for short poems until it’s over.
Like snow angels
made on the first snow
and soon we will be forgotten
I know, sitting next to someone wearing a medieval cape and writing a bloody song about a baby’s ghost who is stuck “on the other side” can be a little bit…intense. That’s exactly what I was working on on the plane, by the way.
But just like all those businessmen, pilots, stewardesses – I was just doing my job at this very moment. That’s our job, dealing with ghosts. What all those characters in songs, books and movies are before they will be given some kind of a real form. They must be ghosts, aren’t they?
I have so many unseeable friends and I got to help them.That’s my job.
In Estonian is there is a word for a job: elukutse. If you’d translate it directly into English it would be “the call of life”. And that’s the way it should be.
Well, hello New York. Here we are again.
During the moments of writing I am weak .
I have put down all the weapons and protective crust,all my courage,all my human strength like pure silver that breaks easily ,whose shine can be ruined by a single freakin atom. That way I am thin enough to let the thoughts pass through me and find their way onto the paper.
Creating for me is all about becoming fragile.
And that’s why I try not to write in public spaces.Look at this world, we all need at least some kind of protection to survive.But as long as I’m wearing protection I can write nothing purely sincere.
Coming back to that actor who had ripped his soul there naked in front of everybody. He was pretty harmless. So I felt kinda safe to be weak too and write.