Matoya's Cave

In Final Fantasy 1, there is this iconic moment when you first enter Matoya's Cave just to the north of Cornelia. You'd know this if you were a dork like me, but you'd also know that the music in that cave is absolutely enchanting for some reason.

That music captured me good last summer when my family and I were staying in Washington just outside of Seattle. I was toting around a couple of ocarinas that had been the objects of my new fascination at the time, and I managed to slowly figure out how to play the music from Matoya's Cave. 

The song just spoke to me. It still does. Songs are magic like that, and when you learn to recreate them you learn how to perform real magic. For me, I have always felt that music sends me back to other times, often many different timelines at once. I can feel the passing of history between the time I first hear a song and the present when I can recreate it the moment I pick up an instrument.

I'd like to make a song like that someday. 

Liminal (part 2)

According to my memories on social media, I get the exact same way every year. I even take on the same fascination with boldly heading out west. My posts on here from the past would probably show this all to be true as well. It's probably cabin fever, or a lull in creativity that comes naturally with the contemplative phase of winter. The days hit their shortest point not long ago, and the season will only get brighter.

I have some reflection to do.

I'm sure this is somewhat normal, but I often get caught up in the mathematics of how long it's been between chapters of my life. Next year will mark the tenth anniversary of my departure from Istanbul, and yet I haven't gotten around to changing it as my hometown in my profile for this blog. It's just that much a part of me, and it's pleasures are a delicate treat I can only share with a small handful of people who wrote the pages of that chapter together. 

The whispers are real. 

The cat-like visits I have from the spirts of inspiration are frequent these days, and I'm hesitant to immediately believe I only feel the way I do because of the lonely nature of this gloomy season. Of course some of that is true, and my presence in this part of the world is due only to family that I could not separate from their only grandchild. I say that proudly and with love in my heart, yet I would be lying if I said it didn't come with a bit of personal sacrifice. 

Liminal

Today is the first day of the year. 

I'm creatively a pile of dust and ash.

Deeply seeking inspiration in a world of grey that is not cold enough for snow to stick.