I sit at my keyboard tonight, feeling the white and black of the keys under the pads of my fingers. I dim the light of the screen in front of me and pause before I hit the record button. Aside from that screen and the small blinking lights of the audio equipment around me, there are no other lights in the room.
The darkness allows something to come out from me that doesn’t show its face in the light of day. In the darkness, somehow, the freshly birthed ideas can take shape, like the tender green curled leaf of a baby fern, so delicate. In the darkness they can grope for purchase in the soil and take root. They have the night to grow and mature before they face the light of morning.
In her landmark work on creativity The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron says that the artist must concern herself solely with the quantity of the work, and turn the quality of it over to the Great Creator. In that she turns creativity into a spiritual practice, and here in the dark, it is exactly that. This is where I face my soul.
My second album is in the works, and I am filled with hopes and worries. It’s different from my first album, different methods of composition and recording, and with different purposes. Every creation is an act of courage, and this will be more courageous for me than the last.
It’s time to hit the record button, and hear what my hands and heart have to offer tonight. My fingers almost ache with what is about to come out, and I know I will have never heard this music before. That’s the dangerous beauty of creating, and I love it and it scares me to death.
Thank you for joining me tonight for this small moment. I can’t wait to share what I’m about to hear.