Leaving the other page blank, starting on this line, this Saturday at the beach, the lemon beer and the joint I am sharing is my much-needed break. Writing you something positive and beautiful a break for us both. Not that my two years here haven’t been beautiful or positive, but they have a very rough surface, such a moist fruit inside almost forgotten at first glance and touch. Being in Ibiza, now, couldn’t be better. Rather than revisit her shining and floating somewhere above, I come to her very human, naked and recently woken. I’m at a narrow, rocky beach with only room for children who tend to the water, and us mortals sustaining the heat with cold beers and sunglasses. A tan, ridiculous how we go about it. The children are darker than us all and none of them are lying down.
When I think of my childhood now, I remember that it was a time of much creativity & learning. The other night, I’m not even sure how, or why then, she came back to me, and I not only remembered her, but I felt her there, inside me. My creativity is back and it is bringing with it the joy I’ve been missing and the answer whose absence was starting to crack my head and heart. But both are here and fine. But I see that without it, I will walk this earth only a ghost. It is my air, writing this, expressing this place where we find ourselves. This dream enamors me and I must speak of it, sing of it, touch it and know it, not for what seems, but for what is. When I see that it is Marijuana that opens me up like this, I wonder if it’s really such a terrible thing for me to be ingesting. ‘No, no, time to be working’, meaning time to be sleeping. I’m starting to think if we put the money down for a minute, stop playing with it, we’d look up and see what’s really going on and not even just that, but a solution. We would find food all around us, shelter all around us, and we’d run to whoever needed it with open arms. But we don’t. Because we are sleeping children, and those are very hard to wake.
I’m going to start volunteering again. It makes me remember that we are all the same when it comes down to it, it being the emergency of our lives. I’m thinking about listening to those that wait on the three corners between my house and the water. I don’t want my first volunteer experience in Ibiza to be at some club. I hope they will trust in me, and more importantly, I hope I hear them.
Thank you for such a lovely letter and for such true love and support. I am writing to thank you and to tell you that yes, I’m making music again.
