I remember from my dreams:
Before art became commercialized, there was the artist -the one in the village whose head was always in the clouds, who couldn't seem to hold much down, but who always lightened the load when things got heavy.
The artist felt things -things that alotta us didn’t wanna feel (cuz it hurts and it’s scary and we’re busy). But the artist couldn't help themself. Their feelings were merged with everyone else.
So we felt safe to share our secrets with them. The artist always understood how hard it is to be human. They gave us courage and wisdom. And they had magic. When they told stories, they told all of our stories. Somehow they showed us our secrets without ever outing us. Where we had lost perspective, the artist offered the medicine. We all felt seen by them. They brought friendship to our loneliness. They reminded us that we’re together in this.
So we all cared for them. They did their share of essential home-keeping (and helped us all get along), but we didn’t try to keep their head out of the clouds for too long because, when we needed them to, they brought the sunshine through.
In my ancestral lineage, this kind of scared artist was called a bard: a holy one who transmits wisdom and healing through music and humor. But this archetype has largely been lost by organized religion and capitalized entertainment. Over time the role was hijacked by the higher-classes who used bards to promote their agenda.
As a result, nowadays artists are judged not by authenticity but by technique, performance and cleverness. There’s a formula that we’re supposed to plug into. There’s no village to care for us as we keep one foot on the Earth and the other in the stars and make music to remember who we are. We’re supposed to make a business.
But, it’s not our nature to promote ourselves. To put a price tag on our prayers interferes. The moment we try to impress you, we lose touch with our gift, which is to find a loving way to reflect all of it -just as it is (not as it will make us the most money). Just as the church will not sell their sacred items, we are not for sale. We are gifts to you. We go to places inside of ourselves that are scary to move through -then we make you a map with our art. It’s our pleasure to offer our inners to you -it’s what we’re here to do. It’s our sacred gift.
Furthermore, our art is not in competition. We love other artists and love to dream together. To compare whose art is better is not in our nature. We like seeing ourselves in each other. We’re each other's companions as we travel through all our human dimensions. We each offer unique forms of creative medicine.
So I’ve decided to stay true. Even as the industry would like me to do things quite differently, I am committed to my process, purpose, and unique aesthetic -which is a bit elementary (and I like it that way). I will not muddy my integrity by forcing myself into production standards that do not fit. I am here to offer my creative medicine -as it is.
Indeed: it's an act of faith. I depend on the sincere generosity of others to survive, and I'm happy to report that, so far, I'm doing just fine. Sure, there's stressful times, but, honestly, nothing feels as awful as the stress that comes from living a life that's not mine.
Thank you for supporting authentic artistry.
Before art became commercialized, there was the artist -the one in the village whose head was always in the clouds, who couldn't seem to hold much down, but who always lightened the load when things got heavy.
The artist felt things -things that alotta us didn’t wanna feel (cuz it hurts and it’s scary and we’re busy). But the artist couldn't help themself. Their feelings were merged with everyone else.
So we felt safe to share our secrets with them. The artist always understood how hard it is to be human. They gave us courage and wisdom. And they had magic. When they told stories, they told all of our stories. Somehow they showed us our secrets without ever outing us. Where we had lost perspective, the artist offered the medicine. We all felt seen by them. They brought friendship to our loneliness. They reminded us that we’re together in this.
So we all cared for them. They did their share of essential home-keeping (and helped us all get along), but we didn’t try to keep their head out of the clouds for too long because, when we needed them to, they brought the sunshine through.
In my ancestral lineage, this kind of scared artist was called a bard: a holy one who transmits wisdom and healing through music and humor. But this archetype has largely been lost by organized religion and capitalized entertainment. Over time the role was hijacked by the higher-classes who used bards to promote their agenda.
As a result, nowadays artists are judged not by authenticity but by technique, performance and cleverness. There’s a formula that we’re supposed to plug into. There’s no village to care for us as we keep one foot on the Earth and the other in the stars and make music to remember who we are. We’re supposed to make a business.
But, it’s not our nature to promote ourselves. To put a price tag on our prayers interferes. The moment we try to impress you, we lose touch with our gift, which is to find a loving way to reflect all of it -just as it is (not as it will make us the most money). Just as the church will not sell their sacred items, we are not for sale. We are gifts to you. We go to places inside of ourselves that are scary to move through -then we make you a map with our art. It’s our pleasure to offer our inners to you -it’s what we’re here to do. It’s our sacred gift.
Furthermore, our art is not in competition. We love other artists and love to dream together. To compare whose art is better is not in our nature. We like seeing ourselves in each other. We’re each other's companions as we travel through all our human dimensions. We each offer unique forms of creative medicine.
So I’ve decided to stay true. Even as the industry would like me to do things quite differently, I am committed to my process, purpose, and unique aesthetic -which is a bit elementary (and I like it that way). I will not muddy my integrity by forcing myself into production standards that do not fit. I am here to offer my creative medicine -as it is.
Indeed: it's an act of faith. I depend on the sincere generosity of others to survive, and I'm happy to report that, so far, I'm doing just fine. Sure, there's stressful times, but, honestly, nothing feels as awful as the stress that comes from living a life that's not mine.
Thank you for supporting authentic artistry.
Support the Shona
A Tap-Root of Sacred Song
I was first introduced to the sacred role that the musician plays in community when I was living in Zimbabwe, where the mbira (one of the world's most ancient and scared thumb pianos) plays a central role in human connection to the spirit realm, each other, the land, and our own hearts. It was with the Shona people that I awakened to my own spirit and calling. They taught me how important music is in the transition from an old world into a new. They taught me about true generosity and joy -no matter the conditions. Thanks to the mbira tradition, I have come home to myself.
Please support the organization Mbira.org in their efforts to keep this tap-root of the sacred musical tradition alive.
Please support the organization Mbira.org in their efforts to keep this tap-root of the sacred musical tradition alive.