IN CREATION: Mourning Each Day away
THIS IS EXCERPT OF AN ESSAY WRITTEN IN APRIL 2021 FOR PATREON: THE RESURRECTION OF “MOURNING EACH DAY AWAY”
The Resurrection
It might be my favorite celebration.
From death to coming back to life, elevating into the heavens to be immortal.
A yearly reminder in the spring with the long Lent prior to the tragic day of murder on Good Friday and returning to life on Easter.
I find it powerful to tune in into this tradition and sense the depth of grief followed by the intensity of celebrating life.
Last Easter will for sure be an important memory. Celebrating it with my flatmates in Berlin on a very sunny weekend. The first asparagus. In lockdown. In the limbo of still not knowing what a global pandemic means — apart from stillness.
It will be as present as the many Easter celebrations I had as a child, with Easter egg hunts outside in the spring, where nature was blooming and a supportive sun helped make this celebration a very joyful one.
In 2019 I celebrated Easter in Los Angeles. I was lucky to spend many weeks in the house I call my home away from home. The one in Silver Lake, that has the three palms in front of the house, like nuns on guard, to connect the sky with the earth, making this area an even more magical place than it already is.
I spent most of my time in solitude able to fully tune into my mind, opening the creative part of my soul. Letting it flow.
These times can be truly intense to me. Truth is, every time I’m opening up, I allow bits and pieces to leave my body that no longer serve me. But they still want to greet me before they leave, reminding me of the pain, trouble and trauma they’ve cost.
I inhaled the beauty of Los Angeles, as I always do somewhere between road trips through the intense landscape of mountains, desert, cemeteries and the ocean to find myself back in the garden of my house to compose and write.
Very often this beauty compensates the process of creation. Sometimes, I leave this garden depleted when I wasn’t able to transform my energy into music. Sometimes, I leave this garden lighter, when I am able to transform my energy into music.
Whenever I left, I kept on listening to the fragments of music that I recorded into a playlist. The longer I stayed in Los Angeles, the more the playlist grew. From shy seeds into full blooming songs. It is warming and fulfilling to walk, watching the vibrance of the nature while listening to something that makes sense.
It is a cycle. And when I returned to the garden, the following hour or the next day I was charged enough to start writing, again. To yes, let go of something — something I received, maybe something that was already stored inside me. I was able to let go of something.
To be drained, to feel lighter. To leave, to get charged, coming back whole — as a slightly different human.
I mentioned it before — the way I am able to create is connected to a strong melancholia, desire, wishful dreaming. Perhaps this is what I chose before I came to earth, I just don’t remember. What I know is that I haven’t been able to write or compose inspired by a joyful experience. Yet. My life has had many of these, which brings me back to my spring in Los Angeles.
So I think they are present to bolster me in being able to dig into the uncomfortable area of my heart that seems to inspire me the most.
When I awoke, I was listening to the birds singing their morning songs and I imagined they only did this for me. Have you ever paid attention to the sound of the birds and how they change when you change your habitat? The birds sound different wherever you are. It is clear because each one has their individual tone and every region has their very own birds. I encourage you to pay attention to this. No morning concert is the same when you wake up in another bed.
I made breakfast and listened to Billie Holiday – “Day In, Day Out”. Or my favorite Sam Cooke record “Night Beat” while sitting in the morning sun, with a hazelnut coffee in the backyard.
My notebook by my side where I collected many night dreams before I started the days. It makes my days easier when the sun shines and I don’t have to spend much thinking about how to dress appropriately for the weather. Very often I just put on a dress, packed a bag with a couple of snacks, a bottle of water and left in my car to drive to wherever I was called. Most of the time nature, Goodwill, Whole Foods, seeing the ocean to then return to the garden.
I discovered a new passion of mine — planting plants, and I started connecting with earth even more and I enjoyed touching the soil to put a young plant into it. Wishing this one all the best for the new surroundings and a joyful process of growing.
I joined a friend on Sunday to visit his church — something I dearly love doing when being in a foreign country.
Spirituality connects people and I find it immense to learn the details of the wide spectrum of this word and get a glimpse into what makes these people spend their Sunday mornings together.
It was a refreshing experience to participate in the services that were supported by a little band and beautiful spiritual gospel songs. The pastors of the community created the service in a more inclusive way, and it was beautiful to see that diverse people from different backgrounds came together to spend their Sunday mornings with one another.
I was inspired by their connection and the many joyful moments I was allowed to experience as a guest in their community.
This was of course a very close introduction to Easter. Being present when this old story about resurrection was shared, and being invited to watch the traditions connected to this tragic yet hopeful story.
After the Sunday lunch I kept on planting and found myself ending yet starting the week with my guitar in the garden, watching Nina Simone playing live, listen to her talking. Sometimes I would only watch the stars and the many helicopters that flew over this piece of land. Or on rare occasions I was visited by a skunk.
I had a rush of a depressive episode building up the week prior to Good Friday. In retrospect, I still remember this internal feeling of bubbling like lava does, waiting for the eruption. So I walked around my neighborhood to come back to play the guitar in the garden.
And I recorded. And I had an instrumental.
Looking back I wished I had told myself this is going to be one of your most important songs, take it easy, take it slow. But what do you do when your chest feels like it holds so much bubbling tension and you just want to let go of it. I stayed in this mood until Easter Sunday.
Rain came down on Easter Saturday, to water the greens of the gardens, to help my body cool down so I could continue with what I thought is the most helpful thing to do.
After church on Easter Sunday I was dearly waiting for the resurrection and I didn’t know what I could expect. I kept on looking to the heaven, to the garden door, on my phone.
I wished I would have had a gentle look at what I was able to let go of and transform into music.
A very own resurrection.
I wrote the song “Mourning Each Day Away”.
A song that closes with the line “I won’t dream my nights away” that wasn’t ready to be tracked yet, though.
Whether you celebrate or not - I send you my best and want to remind you of your very own resurrection.
The cycles of tension, release, exhaustion and being charged again. Look inside yourself. Let go of what doesn’t serve you and feel the lightness to enter life again as a slightly different human being.
Enjoy this weekend.
xx, L