I'm working weekly on Wednesday nights at the beautiful, old, old Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin. These evenings I've found refuge and, despite whipping winds and cold rains, warmth in its various chapels. And there are regulars - folks who come and sit to meditate, to take in the ambient reverence of the space. One person comes each week, reads a book, chats with me about what he's been up to. The first week he came to the workshop, which provides the source material for the resonant recordings I'm doing in the various chapels. That first week, something difficult was happening with him and he did, he cried, he walked, he breathed, he sang and vocalised. In that workshop, we explored voice, the body, breath, and their relationship to our true selves. I'm proud that this practice of meditation makes up the bed of the piece I'm writing for my dancer-collaborator Maria Nilsson Waller's scores.
Desert - Flowering - Wind.
We're creating a moving score, an improvised liturgy with contemplative sound design for the cathedral.
It feels so ... disconnected from the world, even during prayers when we mention shootings in London. A that moment only during the evening did the cathedral feel cold, hard, out of touch. I miss being close to my family, to the unexpected rootedness and conviction of knowing that home is Home. But when each person comes in out of the cold, and we talk about our difficulties, the complexities of just being now, being here, maybe it's essential work - connecting with our Selfs. We have a couple more weeks of work before we present improvised dance/sound liturgy on April 11th at 7pm. But this piece is about process, and that's what we're celebrating during Lent: the process of getting there - to redemption. Wherever you are this evening (I'm in cold, rainy Dublin!), choose the road that's harder, the path that takes you somewhere new, even through sweat and confusion.