A sudden trigger
Early Saturday morning I left the hectic routine at my communal home and went for a walk. The usual exercise, and in my personal case just as important as the daily sit.
The reason these solitary walks along the river Segura are important are because they take me out of the city, to the edge of the urban grid and into the fields, the lemon and orange groves, freeing the pedestrian of the city’s self awareness and opening up to the vistas on distant, anonymous mountains.
I recite memorised lines from The Greatest Salesman in the World. I flip through my ever-growing deck of index cards, and attentively look for objects that trigger elements and SMART goals of my DMP. Walking while being aware of my thoughts.
Just an average Saturday morning. But then I realised that I was softly singing the opening lines of the first song from an album very dear to me, throwing me back to my mid-teens when this LP came out and was ever so often playing on my turntable.
This music album, in particular, provokes strong reminiscences of smells from that bygone era and street scenes, interactions with long forgotten people, early personal emotions, and the long wandering walks that I undertook back in 1976.
Within seconds I was playing the entire album on Spotify, and something inside of me broke, and I started crying. I cried the whole way back into town, on the other side of the river.
The effect of perfect melancholy oozing from playing the well-memorized entire track listing, every musical twist and turn, every verse, chorus and bridge and there I saw my last 40 years flying by, carried by the genius musicality of Canterbury scene co-founders Hatfield & The North.
To ensure credit, the line-up included Pip Pyle, Richard Sinclair, Dave Stewart, Phil Miller and The Northettes (Barbara Gaskin, Amanda Parsons, Ann Rosenthal).
40 Years in 48 minutes. It wasn’t sadness, it came from deeper within. You just connect with your past emotions and become aware that a lifetime has passed and you are still that same mental individual entity plugging into the universal mind, sensitive to the longings from way back just as much as those at present.
You still have that burning desire to be accepted and understood, to arrive at your own destiny and you admit that abundance hasn’t materialised in all those years. Kind of a sobering realisation. But the soothing comes after tears, knowing that the journey has been an honest one.
It was like meeting an old friend. Nothing is lost. It’s only the clock, not the compass. This music has shaped and formed my being and forever heals the deeper wounds.
Hatfield & The North: Hatfield & The North (1974 Virgin Records)
Hatfield & The North: The Rotter’s Club (1975 Virgin Records)
Read more about my Master Key Experience by clicking here.
Isn’t it funny how that happens. Nostalgia. The things that we don’t think about consciously but come up because it still lives in us. The surprise of the thought and ultimately the reflection of it all. And to finally understand that we are all just doing the best that we can. What a blessing it is to still be on this journey. The melancholy of the years past and the presence of the music left inside of us as a result of those years. I love this. Thanks for sharing.
So profound, Drem.
Moment of silence.
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Your sharing of this experience gives me courage to face digging deeper.
Thank you.
Powerful memories and the realisation of ones’ life gone by is a wake up call, as you suggest Drem.
The MKE exercises come into their own as you take control of your present moment and destiny.
Thanks for sharing.