Monday, February 20, 2017

However you can sneak up upon, pass the gates and enter, waylay or entreat, simply befriend, entreat, set forth to, however you do it, whether by style and attitude, or by persistence or self-knowledge, need, superstition, dupe yourself into such belief, however you can do it to get over that magic fence and into that quiet nightly yard of the peaceful mansion where you find the spirits and become enabled to write and explore the muse however you might do, this is worth it.  No doubt, no surprise if some people take it to be a spooky business, a feat of augured listening.

Entering the sacred woods, knowing the way well enough, finding your skill honed by years as hunter or trapper or guide or one knowing simply how to live, what music you might find, you have to keep your field notes as to how you are allowed to pass in.

And once there, you have a time.  Its minutes are numbered.  You cannot be interrupted.  You have to remember the styles of history, to remember the penchant for visiting cemeteries with a wish to almost live in them seen in the Nineteenth Century.

We don't know what the product of such communing will be.  Ghost tales in the form of music, poetry...

I mean, most people are not of that mysticism, that possibility of that ghost yard world.  Of the peace that brings us in touch with ancestor or hereafter, I mean, in the way that we have to grapple with it, our own mortality, the death of people close to us....

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