Signposts to Nothing

I've decided I don't like the band Mumford and Sons very much anymore.  When I first heard them I was captivated by their use of lyrics to create imagery, but the more I've listened to them the more I've realise that their imagery is creating an illusion about, well, not much at all.  They hint at having insight into things and pointing to profound ideas, but very few of the songs actually do say much, other than what is already being said by other bands.

I've decided also that this can be found in people.  Kindness, charm, and mystery can draw us to people who appear to have answers to great things.  But, again, more often than not, they are merely signposts to nothing.

Such is our society.  I have spent many years in a world that creates an illusion that all is well, and that all knowledge can be found at the click of a button, but the more one consumes of that, the more one is sickened by it.  As it is merely a signpost to nothing.  Nothing of meaning, nothing of true depth, nothing that will change an ingrained addiction to whatever seeks our greatest attention.

I was reading this afternoon about a god called Io in the traditions of some of the first people who lived in New Zealand and it struck me again that there is an answer.  If one is purse this - the desire to know and understand the God who speaks, who hears and who longs to communicate with his creation - one will find something.  Something beyond what any human could fabricate.  Something that will change a person from the inside out; truly change them.

Today I found a signpost to the one who says “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” and I remembered again that there is a being that can restore, redeem and change.  A being that loves and came and died and rose again so we can find something of meaning.  But we have taken the signposts that point to him down and replaced them with ones that create an illusion of him.  An illusion of love and kindness and respect and inner change.  An illusion that is far easier to deal with than the awful truth of a being who knows our name and loves us more than we will ever comprehend. 

If we can replace the being who is all-powerful and all-knowing and all-love with an illusion, we are free to turn our backs anytime we like - with a click of a button - on a knowledge that will change our hearts and draw us to love in return.

Love is painful.  It demands vulnerability and honesty.  And I fear what some may find if they are to see my heart.  A signpost to nothing is far easier to hide behind.

  

Quote found in Jeremiah 29:13 (NIV)

 A Blessing for Those Who Seek to Know Why

- for someone close to my heart

May he grant you safe passage as you journey anon,
May his eyes never leave you and his hands keep you strong,
Even though there be trials and suffering alone,
May he grant you safe passage as you journey anon.

May the journey, though trying, be one deep and long,
May the treasure you find never prove to be wrong,
As the day turns to night and the night starts it's song,
May the journey, though trying, be one deep and long.

For 'tis only by darkness that we know what is light,
And 'tis only by wrong we may learn what is right,
May he grant you safe passage as you journey anon,
And may anguish of sorrow in the night soon be gone.

(H R Gilmour, Sept 2012)

We will never fully know nor understand.  I've come to realise that the answer to 'why' sometimes sounds more like a soft chord than a definite full-stop.  If we can take that and hold it gently in our hands, sometimes a soft chord may be more of an answer than we thought.

To Make the World a Little More Beautiful

 Three days ago I ran away.  I left with a friend to journey to the coldest, furthermost part of the country.  I wanted to see the snow, to feel icy particles brush my checks as I walk, knee still sore, through unfamiliar streets, away.  Away from the eyes of those who seek to know me and the eyes of those who do know me.

We are on a pilgrimage to find something, a God thing maybe, and something to do with our hearts.  It's been raining since we arrived.  I've bought a thermal and my legs are sore from walking but it's good to be away.

 I want everyone to forget that somewhere on this planet I wander.  Why?  Somewhere along the journey I stood up and I said something.  I told them what I think, what I've been through, what I have come to and why I believe what I do; and in that public declaration, they cried.  Why do they cry?  Because I cry.  Every time I stand up and say something I stand there and show them a little of my heart.  And it makes me cry.  Deep inside, I cry.

I cry as I don't know the answer.  All I know is what I've seen and what I've felt and what I've had to walk through.  I don't tell them what I think or where I'm from because I know the answer, but I tell them because something in them aches, and if I don't tell them, I ache with them.

And I get tired of aching.  My knee has been sore for the past few weeks, I hurt it while walking one day, and I'm tired of it hurting, but walk I must, even though it hurts.  Walk I must.


I will return in just over a week and they will see me again.  They will smile at me, as they know me, as they've heard my heart, and I pray when I see them again I will also know.  I will know somehow a little more of what it is that tugs at my heart and keeps me awake, and above all, why every time I stand up and say something, they cry, I cry and somehow the world is a little more beautiful.

War, Unity and a Sinking Ship

Our country has not know war for many, many years.  My generation, and my parents generation have never experienced the pain, suffering and deprivation of war.  A number of years ago, when I was in highschool, I was staying at a friends house with a number of my classmates.  I remember saying to my friends that I wish our country had a war.  They were horrified at me, and no wonder.  One who has not been through such a thing can only vaguely imagine what it would be like, often resulting in the glorification of such an event.  Yet, in my statement, there was a deeper wish, it came out in those words, but those words did not truly give voice to that wish, the true longing of, "I wish our country would unite."

I just watched a video about Joseph Kony, a notorious warlord in Uganda who has been terrorising it's people and neighbouring countries for 26 years.  Some people decided to do something and it made me think of that statement I made many years ago.  I'm beginning to wonder if our country is in fact already in a war, always has been, and always will be.  A war for justice, for meaning, for hope. Yet, in our country, for now, we get to choose if we will join.  Apathy holds a tight reign over us and has for decades.  Our isolation from other countries lulls us into believing nothing can harm us and as long as we don't rock the boat, we will be forever safe on our little island at the bottom of the world.  I for one want to fight.  I want to stand up, on very shaky legs, and leap over board into the unknown world; I want to do something, as it is not in the boat that I will grow, it is out there, in the unknown, that I will learn how to live.  And it is often only through fighting for something that life reveals how truly precious it is.

Is the light at the end of the tunnel really just a train?

I was wandering through the Karangahake Gorge, just on the outskirts of Waihi, New Zealand, a few weeks ago.  There are a number of tracks that meander beside the river, exploring the remains of the old gold mines.  In some places, the tracks edge into, and through, the rock face, requiring the explorer to walk through tunnels with little light.  I'm not a fan of little light.  It scares me to have to step into darkness from the warm summer's day I have been immersed in.  I would force myself to take one step at a time, heart pounding, trying to avoid the puddles that I could barely see beneath my feet.  The darkness and coolness were highlighted by the warmth and security of what I had left behind.

In my previous entry I claimed I didn't have a specific point for this blog.  I've realised I do.  To share with whoever reads this, my journey about taking ownership of being a composer.  For 7 years I have taken one step at a time into an area that is dark, cold and very uncertain.  As the years have progressed the darkness and coolness have increased.  And yet, to turn back would smother what grows inside me with each step - to explore the possibility of living a life creating music, living a life dedicated to giving beauty and discovering meaning in a world where my eyes often fail to see it.  How strange, to have to step into something before you realise this is precisely where you need to tread.  How strange, that it is in the very act of believing that the soft voice that whispers in your heart, may actually be there for a reason, and it may yet be heard and give some fulfilment to an unknown ache, before you can give it room to have a voice.

I have run from the truth that I want to create for many years.  To admit it, is to face the fact that I don't know how I am to do it.  Admitting it brings that desire into the light, for all to see, and harder yet, for me to see.  And I'm afraid of seeing.  I'm afraid of what might be in the dark.  But, when one turns and faces the whispers that haunt the canyons in ones soul, when you seek them out and find where they are coming from, it gives room for change, it gives room for the possibility of stepping beyond what you know, into the great unknown, and discovering the immense possibility of living.  If, on my journey, I am not willing to tread beyond what I can fully see and fully know, how can I continue on?  All around me I will find rock walls, or dark tunnels.  If I attempt to spend my life only in the light and not step into the unseen, my world will become increasingly smaller.  I am 'safe' in my daylight, the daylight that I know, yet my journey will cease if I cannot step into and through the darkness, and embrace the coolness of the next tunnel.

I am a composer.  That scares me.  My life will be a pattern of known, unknown, know, unknown.  I have not taken ownership of that until now.  2 years ago, when going through my first patch of 'unknown', there was a week when, at the end of my rope, worn out from 2 months of no work after much promise of a bright future during my studies, I took time out and I stopped, turned, and faced the whispers that had been causing me to run from the yearning to create.  I realised that I feared composing as it was like creating a castle in the clouds.  A composer is at the bottom of the food chain when it comes to making music.  I have an idea and I write it down.  I give it to a performer who interprets what I say, and then in turn, conveys it to an audience.  Anywhere along that chain, something can go wrong, and my idea can be misinterpreted, misheard or misunderstood.  At any moment the castle can be blown away.  And yet, if I do not create these castles, something in me is smothered.  I am willing to face that fear, and face the unknown, for the times when it does work, and I cry, and they cry, and we all have a new understanding of some profound mystery, are worth all the times that I've got wet feet, and a sore head from banging into another cold, wet, rock wall.

A Musician's Musings

This is the blog of a freelance composer.  I write music for a living.  Mostly.  Last year I ended up with 4 part time jobs.  Can you call yourself a free lance composer when you are earning a living from 4 part time jobs?  3 of them were music related, so maybe that label's ok.  It's only been in the past month that I have begun to call myself a composer, even though I have been earning some sort of living from this occupation since finishing my Masters in it 2 years ago.  It is very hard to take ownership of something that has come to fruition through loss, pain, fear and deep confusion.  The only reason that now, when people ask me what I do, and I say I'm a composer, is because I am currently writing music for a film, my first commission.  It has been delayed a number of times and I've ended up with a very, very long holiday.   When asked what I do, I have no choice but to say composer, as that, currently, is my only clear form of occupying my time, when it does.  Being a deep thinker and very much in touch with my emotions, a long holiday means: many, many thoughts, and many, many feelings and many, many tired nights of mulling over life, God, relationships, the cosmos, love, fear, and identity.

I have contemplated blogging for a long time and it is purely out of sheer frustration that I begin now.  Frustration about life.  Frustration about trying to figure it all out knowing full well I never will.  Frustration about having 'great revelations' but with none to share them with as many grow tired of my 'great revelations'.  Common phrases I hear from well-meaning friends and relations often run along the lines of: 'just stop thinking Hannah,' 'just go with the flow Hannah,' or 'get a real job Hannah.'  Telling me to stop thinking is like telling me to stop breathing.  Telling me to just chill out sometimes works, when I'm willing to stop thinking. And telling me to get a real job is an impossibility, as I'm so overqualified that no intelligent store owner would want to hire a unintentional musician who has spent 5 years at University and 2 years as a free lance composer.  Any jobs that I have acquired that have not been music based have been due to the fact that I heard of the job through friends of a friend, and those who hire me have not asked for a CV, or the job only runs for a month and therefore anyone is welcomed, well educated or not.

Welcome to my life.  Welcome to my heart.  Few have been invited in until now as it has taken me years to welcome myself there.  I have no goal for this blog, and nothing in particular that I am trying to achieve.   My life is not driven by a vision, or a 'where I want to be in 10 years time' plan.  At the beginning of last year, when 5 projects I was to be involved in fell through, each getting more and more ridiculous - from writing orchestral music for a rock band based in Auckland, New Zealand, to a workshop in the Amazon Rainforest recording the sounds of the jungle - I realised that my life needed to be grounded in something far greater than a 'vision'.  Or a 10 year plan.  I can barely plan out a week, let alone a decade.  My only desire in life is to be honest with God, honest with myself, and through these, be able to be honest and open with those around me.  This has taken years to come to, and at the tender age of 25, I am aware there are many more years still to come in this process.  Join with me, if you would like, in my musings, my revelations, my questions, and my discoveries while on this journey called life.