Music has been my truest and most loving, unforgiving teacher.
It sent me to the Yoga Mat/Dojo/Gym when I thought destroying my body in some self-destructive tribute to the quintessential cliche of a 'musicians lifestyle' was my destiny.
It forced me to articulate feelings I didn't understand into words I didn't want to hear.
It handed me a microphone when I thought hiding behind a piano was music enough for me and said 'sing or we're done'.
It sent me to therapy when I tried to get away with labelling toxic patterns in my life as some form of romanticised eccentric idiosyncrasy artists are to be celebrated for.
And today after years me hiding behind its kind but firm refuge, it says 'Talk. Speak your piece. Cos writing a song every time you feel choked is not the role that is mine to play and enable for the rest of your life'.
Between the paralysing fear and vicious cycles of egoistic projections (both of which are pretty much the same thing at the end of the day) running as a common thread amidst all of the above, this might have been the most challenging demon for me to overcome for reasons I hope to address in more detail in future. Suffice to say once upon a time a little boy got smashed in the face for trying to do the same and spent most of his adult life attempting myriad methods to figure out why.
And I think he's finally ready to talk about it now. Share some of his experiences.
And while I make no attempts to hide the fact that this new step I'm about to take is primarily a part of my ongoing healing process, I would like to believe that this particular endeavour might just be a potential tool to contribute, however minuscule to my fellow artists, colleagues, friends and audiences within the eco-system we all occupy.
Tapasya Loading. Attempts at raw, authentic conversations and an ode to the first half of my ancestral name which is a metaphor for burning fear away into a sacred fire.