At this time of the year, there are stars in the sky from dawn to dusk, as the Chinese dogwood carries its bracts above its bright green foliage. They put me in the mind of this song, which I am only just beginning to understand and hear as if for the first time. The lyrics are haunting. I will not print them here. Not yet. They should be heard as they were sung, the way the artist intended.
Who can say what art even means anymore, what purpose it serves, what good and evil it works in the world. I always wonder about such things in times such as these. When the universe turns brutal, and leaves us with lessons we may or may not be ready to learn, it knocks the wind out of me for a while. I question everything and feel uninspired. Unable to activate the usual frivolous drive that impels me to decorate the atmosphere around me with silly, pretty things, it’s like the rudder was removed and I’m spinning in aimless circles. I can’t even properly formulate a simile or metaphor – it all sounds like a mess.
Turning to a song – perhaps the song of this summer – I seek some scrap of inspiration on which to grasp, desperate for the frisson that ignites when the right melody of music meets the right cadence of words, when story and sentiment rush into each other’s arms, and a little bit of the world can be felt again.
And so I listen.
First, to the silence of the morning in the stillness of the house.
Second, to the birds in the backyard, and the neighborhood creaking awake.
Third, to the music in my mind, whatever song that has stuck around from the day or night before.
Starry, starry night…
…Stars in the sky held aloft by the branches of a dogwood tree…
