Sunday, 10 August 2014

Home and Passion Fruit Tea

On Air: "Us", Regina Spektor

What do you think it's home to you?

I've been thinking about this for a while. It's more than a year that I am away from my family, living on my own miles away from what I called home for so many years, without even thinking about the meaning of the word.
Yesterday I felt like home in this room of mine. Rain ticking on the window, lying on my bed, under the sheets and a cover, or sitting at this tiny little desk, with new music in the speakers.
Home is where there is nothing scary.
Home is where you feel at ease.
Home is where you can feel sick and do it without worry.
Home is where you know everything.
Home is when you want to know more than that.
Home is when you want to go away.
Home is when you need something else.
Home is when you could go somewhere else but leave pieces of you behind.
Home is where there is someone to water your plants for a week.
Home is when you can go away and go back.
Home is where you can hurt and don't feel bad.

And I have this weird tendency that makes me want to leave when I've found it.
Could it be I'm a gipsy as they said.
I wish I didn't choose a piano to play. It would be so much easier to go around the world with a little bag and a Ukulele.
And have the sky as my roof and the grass as my bed. And strangers as my friends.
I'd like to have a home around me, the biggest, most beautiful, shared home. Where everybody is welcome.
Let's have a cup of passion fruit tea in the woods.

Thursday, 7 August 2014

Amsterdam and the Reason Why

There was a (relatively near) time in the past in which I thought I wanted to be a singer/songwriter because I wanted money and fame, being in TV, having millions of fans and living out of my music. It's what I like doing, and the opportunity of getting money for that would be so bright.
Then one day I was talking with a random stranger and I realised I didn't need any money, just fame. Because I wanted people to know me and appreciate me, making me fill that lack of confidence that every human has and that I cope with in this way.

But well. I came back from the Netherlands yesterday. I went without knowing much about it or having any particular expectation. I took the plane from London with a trolley, a notebook and 10 of my CDs in my bag, because you never know.
Got in Rotterdam and enjoyed its mesmerizing skylines, it's such a surprising city. My eyes weren't used to these wide spaces any more, and the clouds reflecting on the skyscrapers glass. Wow. 
Then in Amsterdam I got lost (literally) in the streets, among the canals and the slanting fa├žades of the houses leaning towards the water. The people, smiling. Colours, sunlight and flowers. It took me a while to get centred in my body, but eventually I did. And (among other unrelated things) started learning something more about myself, about me making music.
It may sound cheesy, and probably it is, but other than that, it is very true, and it's what keeps me going.
I've always asked myself why I'm here (in this room, in this city, in this continent, on this heart, in this moment), and rarely I have found a convincing answer. Well, I think I have a good one now.
I'm here for those smiles. I'm here to give them to these people I meet on my path. I'm here to be useful, to learn and teach, to make them happy. And one of the better ways I do it is with music. 
That's why I make it. 
For the guy sitting in the Starbucks at the station, for the one with the watery eyes in the audience and the other nodding his head with the beat, for the not-brave-enough-to-get-a-guitar-and-sing girl sitting next to me, for the clerk whose eyes brightened when I asked a different question, for the guy sitting by the canal and his little book.
Music can make people feel better, and I don't think I'm being conceited if I say that my music does so sometimes (or at least that's what they say). 
To me, this is more important than money and fame. Of course, these two elements are useful and part of the process. My music won't be heard if I don't have (even a small amount of) fame, and I won't have fame if I don't have the means to produce something to be heard (which require money). I will need a bit more money and a bit more fame, which will give me more time to write and improve and distribute and reach more ears and souls. But the ultimate goal is the smiles of the people I meet, physically and acoustically.
Writing my emotions on the music staff (I am grateful for this possibility that music gives me of sublimating my sorrows and amplifying my joys) and putting my life, my body, my time, my words, to use of these smiles or tears that people give me in return.
I think this is why I live.