Recording, A Journey

This day begins similar to any typical winter’s morning here, the Palouse region of north-central Idaho, dim, gray, and what most would term as, other than warm.  Looking out the window seems to bring memories of the pandemic into focus, as I sit in the same chair, in the same location, on the day when I wrote "Another Day In Lonleysville," even-though; that occurrence was in the midst of summer.  The changes I felt then, remain quite forceful to my outlook, a condition that remains ever present in the back of my mind.  At least I don’t have to live within those conditions while sitting here, safe inside  this isolated space away from those potential threats, allowing my continuance to express these things I hold dear that remain as a passion and focus.  The music I have written is expressing much of my own story, sometimes showing the deep inner feelings that shape my own understandings of living the human condition, reflections of some admired musical influences, while other instances are purely fictional presentations.  My musical expression has been an underlying force or drive if you will, since the Christmas of 1971, having been gifted an acoustic guitar.  It wasn’t a great guitar, but it was playable, providing a condition that I had never felt prior.

The above is a fact, one that provided a condition I retain.  It has gradually transformed into a life force over time as other foci fell away based in increased disabilities.  Presently, my days are near always shaped toward music in some way, thinking it, playing it, reviewing it, and listening to what others have created.  Having written and composed many songs previously, the year 2000 came along as a transition through technology.  I purchased a replacement computer and digital audio recording software to go with it,, having a belief that the purchase would fulfill a dream of many years.  It turns out that this allowed only a starting point in learning about this kind of technology, although; both the software and my abilities to use it, combined as very limiting.  I didn’t understand the additional hardware requirements at that time, further complicating the limitations of the hardware I then possessed.  These details are provided as facts that can but barely define the journey taken, since the days of cassette recordings and semi-professional recording experiences designed for the purpose of my self expression in musical form.  Phase next began after becoming disillusioned with the highly commercialized market in computer operating systems where it interfaced with my own financial status.  Its software becoming a cash cow rather than a system designed to assist the betterment of humanity.  Its potential being lost for the sake of personal financial gain of the few, rather than of the general population.  Somewhere, I heard about the Linux operating system which sounded much more appealing to my nature.  It was 2008 when I purchased my next replacement computer (cash cow inputs) with the intent of shifting to this "other" kind of computer operating system.  My own ignorance, lack of education in computer language I found to be a huge barrier in fulfilling this desire to escape the mainstream capitalistic cash cow that could allow my progression toward recording my music.  Gradually I was able to learn enough about computers to escape the big cash cow of software.  That first expensive piece of digital audio software, had become obsolete so quickly and would not function with a (then) modern computer system, and I lacked the funds to purchase it again!  Again just the facts that let me arrive at the conditions which shaped what is now possible.  More years and a steady focus allowed for the gain in how I am now able to record the works of my lifetime for the purpose of self expression, my art, in the form of music, to be taken in by anyone whom chooses to observe its content, freely.

Just Writing

 So here it is over a year without writing any lyrics to anything new.  The times are different and a lot of influential change continues.  Two of the strongest being the pandemic and an injured left index finger.  Both in their separate ways, have altered my interface with music.  The pandemic removed normal living from possibility, as a man of science.  I pay strong attention to the direction that informed opinion of professional medical science provides.  Thus as an older person, I remain quite vigilant as to the potential of exposure to the virus, which to me represents being alone much more than not and much more than in any other period of my life experience.  When I do go out to get supplies, which is nearly the only thing I will allow, I remain quite aware, mask up and keep my distance from others always.  That is in itself a challenge, but the larger portion of this issue is the prolonged isolation.  Just three months before the viral plague hit, the finger issue came along which came to a head on Christmas day of 2019, the last time I played a guitar for many many profound months.  This was a life changer because playing guitars has been a major part of my life and somewhat my personal driving force for decades. Being right-handed, the sudden inability to use that left index finger to press on a guitar string, took my music away, leaving me feeling quite lost.  Beside that it was the deep of winter, where I normally pretty much live in isolation for the most part in any case due to my growing lack of will to drive in “winter driving conditions.”  It has simply gotten too crazy out there on the long highway drive of open roads where people seem to think it fine to drive 60 miles per hour on ice and snow covered roads.  Not me!  I know that studded snow tires, four-wheel drive, all wheel drive, none will effectively allow breaking to work when suddenly needed.  Studs probably help a bit, but just that, a bit.  Being older and knowing that I don’t belong in a vehicle at any time by my own nature, shows me this.  So I changed my way, adapting to the crazy of modern driving by removing myself from it under those conditions.  Then come a pandemic that altered the rest of life, while being unable to play my music.  It was and remains somewhat a time of profound personal change.

So winter removed my will to make any doctor appointments, for reasons stated above.  There are no doctors or medical facilities locally so that drive is the only way to reach for any medical assistance, so I made a plan to get with that the following April.  But before April came around the pandemic ceased all will to enter any medical facility, knowing that ill people go to medical facilities, that condition magnified in my mind to the degree of making zero attempts until late August of 2020.  That didn’t work out so well as many years ago my personal physician closed down practice and I had not acquired another physician, thus I had to find a new one.  Long story but, it didn’t work out very effectively.  This doctor insisted that I was suffering from arthritis, without actually listening to what I was saying.  We did however get an x-ray, which showed no arthritis.  The problem then was the doctor was too slow in reviewing the x-ray report and providing a referral, which pushed me past my no driving or making appointments during winter.  So that was totally a fruitless process that provided an incompetent person a lot of money for providing near nothing.

I survived the winter and spring of 2020 rather demoralized at first without music, then compounded by the throws of the pandemic, quarantine and full on isolation.  I did write a song lyric in May, but playing it, that was near impossible.  Even so I sucked up the pain and discomfort of the finger enough to compose that tune, yet after that point, the finger again entirely disallowed its use for playing the instrument.  They were challenging times, seemingly my music was beyond reach when one day I stumbled upon a game changer.  If memory serves me, it was late May when listening to an old Muddy Waters interview recording, on something in my archive (I don’t recall the actual source), the interviewer asked, so how do you tune your guitar.  He answered saying something about it, terming it as “Spanish Tuning.”  I’d never heard of such a thing, but he then played each individual string on the guitar in his hand.  I stopped the recording, grabbed a guitar, then backed up the recording  to hear the notes so that I could figure out what they are: D (6th string), G, B, D, G, D (1st string).  Now I have this very old guitar having a flat neck, so I got it out, tuned it to this Spanish Tuning, got out a slide that has been knocking around the place here unused for the most part for many years, put the guitar on my lap, and within 5 minutes I was playing an old John Prine tune!  I was quite amazed or maybe astonished is a better fitting adjective.  

That changed my world.  I could play, it was limiting doing so in a keyed way, yet playing, singing songs again, quickly almost effortlessly, which filled my soul with hope and joy, bringing a smile to my entire being.  Sure it was weird, one playing this old low quality parlor guitar that I had gotten for 50 bucks at a yard sale some years prior for for the purpose of having something to take into situations unsuitable for a nice guitars, but playing music again, that was full on special. 

In the following days, I came up with an idea, that this tuning could be used on a square-neck dobro, so after some searching over the coming days, I ordered one from a shop that I’ve used before.  Several days later, I received it, a Dobro (brand) square-neck dobro.  I tuned it to that Spanish Tuning, to find that the strings are not good at holding the low tone D 6th string.  So much so that I decided I’d have to get a special order string or two in order to compensate.  Of course life where I live it doesn’t offer up supplies of most kinds, much less musical things.  Still I did proceed to learn some proper music with the dobro as well as building a better foundation for finger picking.  I don’t play it very much now but…  

Then came July, and an evening looking at the local section for musical instruments on Craig’s List, where I found a 1973 Martin D-35 at a very unbelievable price.  My inquiry led to purchasing it the next day.  I realized that it was a very sound instrument, beautiful, but the owner had had some crazy stupid modifications done in its history.  Knowing that it was a simple fix to make this instrument sing, I did so over the course of a time span.  I took it to a very good luthier I have trusted for many years.  I retrieved it from him in late August and my odyssey of learning to play with three fingers began.

Over the following year I accomplished that pretty well, bringing music back into my life an a daily basis.  It has been quite a journey that now finds my index finger coming back toward normal, or nearly healed from what had occurred.  I have yet a way to go but I am retraining it at this point.  I am still kind of limited in its use when trying to play too much, greater than 2 hours as my will so often pushes me into.  I now know to pay attention to its sensitivity and stop using it for some particular things when it signals me to stop.  The long and short of it is the journey has been long, frustrating and other things, yet the journey is providing a lot of joy now as I am again working with my music most days/nights through time.  I can’t foresee performance in my near future as the pandemic continues its rampage on humanity, but I can at least accept that with music back in my life.  There is a lot that I can do, some others that I have to avoid yet for a while, but I believe this finger is going to be fully functional again in the coming months.  The pandemic, I am not so sure about.  

Last night, laying in bed before dropping off into that space of dreamy slumber, I thought of days long ago, when I would right a different blog like thing nearly daily about the joys of snow skiing, when I could and did do that near daily during the ski season.  Reflections on this blog being more or less abandon due to not writing music as the above complications have played out, is a thing I know as true.  As this past year has unfolded I’ve gotten back to  playing and recording some of the numerous songs written over the years.  After several surprisingly successful recording sessions over the past six weeks or so, I am again gaining a fair degree of inspiration which may lead to writing other songs.  And then still, I can morph the blog’s initial subject into a space that also includes writing about the process of recording as they unfold.  It seemed a good idea while flat on the bed in the dark of a winter’s night, which still holds true in the light of today.  I’ll see what actually happens as time marches on.

The Songs of 2020

I had little enthusiasm for writing to the blog.  The pandemic altered so much in life as we all once knew it.  I found myself totally alone for months that mounted with the stress and its uncertainty.  None the less I wrote several tunes during the time, only the first of which I wrote about here.  By this time however, the remembering of the writing process for individual songs has completely faded away, and I won't address that aspect of the process from today's point of view.  I will inform the readers only that 3 of the 4 songs are now on my website for anyone to listen to at their will.  https://thomasepeterson.com.  These songs are all quite different one from another. 

Another Day in Lonleysville, is an odd pandemic story that seems quite personal, of how it seemed to me to live in isolation through those days from the vantage-point of looking at the world through the windows.

Letters, a folk song that is also stained by the pandemic and how such change impacts perceptions.  This one almost holds a ballad like story, yet it's use of imagery leaves it to the listener to interpret for themselves if there is valid meaning.  The musical composition was fun to create.

Old Cowpuncher's Song, This is the tune that I have previously written about in the previous blog post.

There is one other tune that I called "Little Big," another folk ballad that draws on once being a child, growing up beside my sister.   It then looks at that through the eyes of being an adult, struggling to keep a sense of perspective in our present world condition, while writing verses to songs or poetry.  The recording of this one has yet to be completed.

I have been struggling as a guitarist, due to an injury of my left index finger, being right handed, this condition has forced me to learn how to play with but limited use of that finger.  It has been like starting over, having to re-learn how to play.  It remains difficult, yet I am gradually overcoming the deficit.  Still, it remains that I have lost a lot of ability in playing.  I am driven and shall continue.

The Old Cowpunchers Song

May 21, 2020.

A damp afternoon outside, following consecutive days of really wet outside, helped set the scene that contributed to the composition of a new song. It has been more than 8 months without writing lyrics upon any subject. You know how life is, of your own living. The social environment that we live within or beside, probably more than any other factor, logically seems to shape those inner motivations, moods in particular, allowing reactions to the daily stimuli. The repressive weather keeping the feelings of "trapped in isolation," seems strongly influential in the least. Yet, behind this vale, unexpected ideas can spring forth, altering the senses to raise the psyche up and above this stirred up mud of dirt, water and idiotocracy. Sometimes it seems alarming how swiftly change can occur.

The weather condition beyond the walls combined with a will to step out of the new normal in an afternoon, found me looking toward movies as a distraction early in this particular Thursday afternoon. I had attempted to watch the film, the ballad of Buster Scruggs, which I found quite amusing. During the early portions of the story, (that is as far as I've gotten, due to the events described here after) truly unexpected events occur. The movie begins with a song, sung by whom it seems is the starring character, exuding a distinct sense of humor in sarcasm, at least that was my impression at the time. By the end of the third or fourth scene, the cowboy gun slinging singer, shot dead, produces his angelic wings and whilst narrating the story-line, flies off into a cloudy blue sky. The juxtaposition in the scene, going from starring character to flying off into the sky, angel like, wings slowly flapping out an ascent, within these early scenes, struck an inner cord within. As I do often, while watching video presentations, I pause the player in order to do something else for a few moments, in order to keep up with the story. So on this occasion I did just that, pause. This time it was to refresh the dwindling fire in the wood stove. As I opened the door of the stove to view its status, my mind strayed off into one of those spontaneously occurring thoughts that often distract my attention. Is it ADHT or the universe supplying something without clear notification? I can't say with specificity what it is, yet it seems to me to be the latter of the two.

The thought was very simple, quite related in some off kilter way to an impression derived of the film's content, yet not really of its substance. "Back in the day where the cowpunchers roamed," were the words shaping my thought, as I looked into the wood stove. Curious, I thought, as I placed another piece of wood into the stove, shut its door, turning to regain my seat before returning to the film. Just that fast, only seconds of time, forced by some unknown condition, my day, the thoughts, the inspirational unknowns, caused a pivot from action A, toward action B. I went from pleasantly being mindlessly, watching entertainment supplied via a movie, to the shaping of a new song.

I stopped before regaining my previous seat, left the film in pause mode, when I stopped long enough to think, is this something, when another line of words formed up in thought, complementary to the line previously stated. In that moment I recognized a familiar situation, deciding to grab at the opportunity, I turned, returned to the computer, opened the word processor and away it went. The afternoon being creatively engaged by the muse.

I wrote out that first couple of lines, then a couple more, as though the words fell from the sky or something. There seems to be little force or deliberate shaping of its content while this kind of process occurs. I am present, yet it happens sort of like magic, poof, there it is, on the monitor's screen. This one could be considered as sort of a ballad, maybe, however, pigeon holing genre, I can leave to others.

Now, I have lost an ability to play guitars, my main instrument for more than 50 years, thus I turned to the piano to figure out the musical shape these lyrics induce. I had an imaginary image in my head when I lifted the keyboard cover to access the keys. It is clearly a cowboy country song, sparked in a way by the cowboy theme of the movie I had begun watching. I use a metronome to solidify a tempo that will shape the ideas of music. Clearly I knew that this would be in 3/4 time, like so many of the traditional cowboy songs. Then maybe that itself is also something of my imagination? I know however, that I made this piece in 3/4 time. The piano remains rather unfamiliar territory where I lack an ability to be fluent. So I struggle in playing it. But I pounded out a structure that supports these lyrics, to satisfactorily shape these ideas into song, and I started singing the lyric. What used to take brief minutes with a guitar, now took well over an hour with the piano, but I succeeded. It is the first time I composed a song with a piano. It is not the instrument that makes the song however. My own experience shows that the song makes its own music.

I played at it for a couple of hours, trying to keep my fingers coordinated enough toward pressing unfamiliar places in correct sequences, it remains a struggle for me, still. When I began, the idea shaped up in the key of Ab. I played through it a couple of times before I recognized the ridiculousness of playing in Ab, so after a little experimentation, I settled into playing it in the key of G, for the sake of simplicity. After that, I knew I should make a rough draft recording to prevent full loss of the melody due to a leaky brain, where memory should exist, yet often fails me.

Having put all the recording gear away a month ago, I had to re-assemble the pieces, and choosing to use a condenser mic for capture, required a different type of stand as well as mic placement, all unfamiliar because I've not previously tried recording my lacking piano abilities. Eventually that too found enough success to preserve the idea while it remained alive and active in my head. And that, is the story of how "The Old Cowpunchers Song," came to be.

And by the way, while I write this, I have yet to see the remainder of this film, and it is nearing a full day later. It is likely that today, I will return to start it again, as it seems that I only saw 15 minutes of its duration. Happily, I found the film quite pleasant and entertaining.

 

Edit in:

Yesterday, August 5, 2021 I released the recording of this song, https://thomasepeterson.com/mp3/Old-Cowpunchers-Song.mp3, give it a listen if you choose.

An Update of Publishing

I suppose it was yesterday when I did a rather complete review of previous posts here.  In the process I found a few songs written about in here had not been linked in order to allow your listening to them.  At that time I connected links in the website to the blog, and now I will do the reverse, connecting the blog to the individual tunes available.  The problem being I didn’t make a physical list to work with now. I can now make a list and enter said links below, hopefully not duplicating what had previously been addressed.

First is the song, The Megaphone.  It was published yesterday, April 1, 2020. The song was written about in this post and is now available to listen to at the following: www.thomasepeterson.com/mp3/The_Megaphone-b.mp3.  Now I choose to state here, that this song does include a rough lead guitar track, that I can not correct at present having an inability to play stringed instruments currently.  There is a problem with the index finger on my left hand :( which has stopped functioning correctly.

Awaken, written of in this post, is available to listen to at the following: www.thomasepeterson.com/mp3/Awaken.mp3

Blue-eyed Boy written of in the first half of this post, is available to listen to at the following:<a href="www.thomasepeterson.com/mp3/Blue-Eyed-Boy.mp3.

In This World So Blue, written of in this post is available to listen to at the following: www.thomasepeterson.com/mp3/In_This_World_So_Blue.mp3.

Now having the malfunctioning finger, I seem less inspired to write songs.  At present, I have no idea how music will unfold in the tomorrows to come or if it shall cease for me.  I am currently working toward learning to play piano, which has a potential for one day being a go to instrument for me, but at present the piano is far from what I know. 

Thanks for checking in, be safe in these world wide troubling times.  My best to everyone everywhere.

The Megaphone

It was June 20^th when the muse last paid a visit, granting me another song to share with the world.  Song writing remains very mysterious to me because of how the seeming events unfold.  For the most part the resultant effort in this past event, seems or otherwise feels as though I, the human within this body, was not present and involved.  I can recall portions of the experience, yet in this moment I am unable to recognize and or recall what I will refer to here as the enzyme causing it to erupt.  I do recall being in my living room in movement, walking past the end of my couch, when the flood of word and inspiration struck, which in turn stopped my forward progression to briefly pause then abruptly pivot 180 degrees with a thought that there was something here to capture.  This type of situation has struck me many times over the years under differing circumstances, causing me to quickly get to the computer enabling the capture of what seems magical.

Soon there after, I found myself before the word processor’s screen, engaged in writing an impression of this thought flood.    In the flood was an auditory influence that had a shape of its own, illusionary holding the words to its shape in both pitch and cadence.  I wrote out 7 lines of text, containing two separate forms, before grabbing up my guitar to actually find the shape of audio provided beside or with the words.  After a bit of fumbling with notes on the fretboard the pitch resolved as an AA (the second A below middle C on a piano or, an open A string on a standardly tuned guitar), and from there the guitars standard A first position was established, being the key for the piece.  The  entire musical phrase for the verse quickly took an understood shape, where as shifting into the chorus was a less fluid process, with some intuitive searching for the shape of it, I experienced a couple of stutters along the way, as finding the shape of this chorus seemed illusive for some time.  I played through my impression a few times yet, there was a flaw, as the resolution from this progression (in a D) back to the AA was impossible.  I then realized the solution, a somewhat different play in the chord structure of the chorus.  As fast as a spark, the chorus had its shape, allowing me to sing the words I’d written.  

At that point, I put the guitar down and concentrated on the lyrics.  The muse was still alive in me, allowing the words to flow out effortlessly.  From beginning to end the song was written completely along with its composition in what must have been less than 15 minutes.  Taking to the guitar again, I began singing the lyric with its accompaniment, smiling along the way, having an impression of the song’s essence solidifying in my mind.  Yet experience has shown that at this point in time, I could easily have a lapse in my memory as to this song’s true essence. 

Thank you Linux OS for the ease with which it has become handy to record raw audio.  I turned the system on (Ardour), set up the inputs for the microphones and recorded a rough draft to preserve what was in the moment, raw thought inside my head.  It worked flawlessly.  I now had the new song captured in essence, and after a Save As and giving the file a name, I had a new song. 

With a raw copy stored and a feeling of accomplishment in the unexpected, with the muse lurking somewhere overhead in the ethers of being I happily began the process of properly recording this new song.  I opened the drumming software (Hydrogen) and with my mechanical metronome, determined a fitting tempo.  I then input this number into the software and set to making a very basic drumming pattern with just a bass drum on the 1, 3 and the backbeat snare at 2, 4.  With  this pattern running in the background I then recorded the piece over, in its entirety with this to hold the tempo while re-recording.  This produced a better impression of the song.  I then began composing a bass track to glue the tune into its form.  After hooking up the electric bass guitar into the system a multi step process due to lacking a bass amplifier here, I recorded a bass track beside what was previously done.  Fact is I am less than proficient enough at playing the bass, to create a usable bass track.  I could overcome this were I to play the instrument but… that is not in my card deck now.  I can play it well enough to use the recorded track as a template for creating a good midi bass track.  I did both of these things to create a good bass track for the recording.  Upon completion of the bass track in midi, I then switched back to the drumming software to create a drum track that might do more than hold the tempo, one that could add too and compliment the song, fitting beside the bass.  From the moment of inception to near done, I had a reasonably completed song in under 2 hours.  To me, amazing.

Since then I have done only a little bit of work to this recording as other demands had to take precedence.  I had a scheduled performance of 2.5 hours, 5 days hence and had great need to practice and rehearse, having excluded most public performances for well over a year.  And the beat goes on.

Follow the Muse

Saturday, July 28, 2018 allowed a new song’s creation. This came about toward the end of my normal morning routine. I’d completed a morning review of the credible news that I prefer from the traditional sources provided on the internet. Weekends usually offer less viable news, thus the time it took to review the content, seemed brief. Living in my mind, forming thoughts that can formulate plans where none may prioritize my action for a day, or better stated as living in the moment, is the methodology I regularly utilize and prefer.

Having done this, while drinking my usual dose of strong coffee to wipe away the lingering slumber of night and sleep, a decision as to what to do next entered my thoughts. The possibilities are truly endless, yet I am rather set in habitual patterns, where mornings and plans come together. Because I seldom plan what I’ll do with days, the habits come into play quite often. This day followed that course for a short time after completing the news review. I then turned toward listening to the prerecorded music of others, of my own choosing. It is seldom that I allow the choices of others (radio etc.) to determine what I’ll allow to fill my space, as I prefer making my own choices as to what may influence my day, because sometimes doing so will alter its mood. For me, music can sometimes strongly influence and temper how my day evolves.

The previous evening I had chosen a course, deciding to learn another song, written and performed originally by Bob Dylan, "Just Like a Woman." I had been inspired by viewing the dvd, "A Concert for Bangladesh," where as, having seen Bob’s rendition with the group on hand for that occasion, I paused the player, to learn the song for myself. In doing so that evening, I had called up the song from his album "Blond on Blond," to my media player in order to review its original form and to study its structure. Unknowingly, this sequence of events set up the circumstances that allowed this new song’s creation the following morning.

Thus after completing the news review that morning, I opened my preferred media player, Amarok. It had in its memory the single song " Just Like a Woman" retained in its playlist from that previous nights application. Seeing this, the thought to again fill the room with the presence of Bob’s recordings, yet wishing to add to the play list, I called up a new songlist of Dylan recordings, including the album "Modern Times." The media player went through many songs while I prepared and ate a breakfast, when I again found myself sitting here listening, the track "Thunder on the Mountain," was playing when, near the end of said track, a trigger in thought occurred. In an instant, this caused me to shut down the music, to open a word processor and I let words begin forming in my head, typing them into the computer.

I began writing out the words that came to mind. In those moments, I followed the slate of inspiration. It lacked any preconceived idea as to what might form. The only thing I understood in those moments, were that those words "thunder on the mountain," separate, standing alone, hold a somewhat iconic theme for me. It is sourced in my own life’s experience. I have experienced lightening and its thunder on mountains well above timberline. At that time being there in that situation provided a potent experience that conjured up survival instinct, leaving an altered sense of awe in its wake. Even so I lacked a desire to express that situation in any way. Also, in thought was my desire to remain fully separated from either the words or expression I’d just heard in Bob’s song. I wrote out lines, a full verse worth of them, then paused to review and alter them. At present, memory has little recall as to the content of those lines. I knew that I wanted to shape an idea that could express a personal core value in regard to our shared environment, that which we all in some way share commonly, this earth and foremost, the alarming trends that I notice.

Upon editing those first few lines, a shape and direction began to jell. I have heard thunder and have noted in its presence what could be termed as anger or in this instance, rage. It could be that the human response to the immediacy of lightening and its associated thunder, is what caused ancient humans to consider the existence of there being something much more powerful than they. Knowing nothing of the physical forces displayed during these weather events, I suppose the alarm of being in its presence was the cause for what is now known as a God. However; this is not my point, nor is the content of what came there after in my writing. The first line evolved then, into, "I’ve heard that the thunder, has to loose its rage." In this case the word rage might be a reflection on my own reaction to being in its presence in high elevation places, where the threat of lightening’s force, I personally recognized as, immense. With this alteration and some others in those initial lines of verse, a direction for the song took hold. Even so, I was without any clear intention as to the sought destination of their collective expression. The first line here (although unknown at the time) is used only as texture for what was to be this vignette of words, that in the moment of conception possessed no music or even a hint there in.

Now for certain, there is no deliberate "other person," in the words of this lyric. It is my understanding of the importance of interpersonal relationships, which brings another person into the story. I believe doing so provides a place that others may be drawn into, as we humans instinctively associate ourselves as being, a part of the whole. And with this comes an understanding of our own mortality, a condition that in my own aging, tends to hold a distinct significance. We will all eventually pass from what we know as living, and go on to what ever comes there after, something or nothing. Since I neither know the answer to that unstated question, or possess desire to instill it into this song, I have simply referenced it via the imagery in, we may, "feel age."

From this point in the process, a contextual situation is created by the introduction of a commonly understood yet hypothetical location, that being, in the mountains. Now observations from the observer’s view begin to form, bringing the thunder back into play as a shared experience. The effect of our relationships in and on this planet are employed here through the use of imagery. I brought birds and the season of spring in at this point because both have the potential to be an influence and be influenced, in our lives.

A separate set of ideas is then introduced as a chorus. It acknowledges some of the most basic things that make up our lives and the conditions which shape them, water, sun, the revolutions of our earth and time.

The song’s last two verses attempt to clearly bring the seasonal cycles in living here into play. Summers end, birds migrate, fall comes and the seasons change throughout our lives. Hopefully we can all find inspiration in living. For myself and so many others, singing is both a producer of happiness and of hope. Doing it by a campfire is even better!