On the Horizon


TO all who have encouraged, danced with and listened to me this year, thank you. Your words, ears, and movements have inspired me to keep going. 

The deliberate transition I made from composer-wanderer to the dance floor began during a particularly difficult winter earlier this year. There, in the chaos of things falling apart, I caught a glimpse of how my music would be embodied by people - at a low-key performance at a tea house I work at, where people actually danced to the music. The discovery was that radiant jewel that you only find in the belly of the beast, where the glimmer is so visible and rare that it cannot be ignored. I held onto it. The seed developing was planted in spring and I found a source of sunlight and water to bring it out of the ground. Soon, like tall stalks of corn, the music began to stand on its own and I saw it move through people.  I saw the healing power of the music take hold.  In August, I released my first offering, which fell on ears ready to receive. Then in fall, the harvest came. Bigger dance floors, higher peaks and deeper valleys, write-ups and reviews from journalists telling the story of the composer-wanderer who found his way to the dance floor. Now it is winter. Now I am back to solitude. Deep space. Dreamtime. 

I know where I stand.  Though I have not made it in the mainstream sense, I feel victorious that I am making it - as in creating the damn thing and getting to share it with people. I am still in somewhat of a pinch-me phase, though I can sense that giving way to a deepening understanding that I am here to facilitate something good happening. The knots of cultural conditioning, tied up by the ego, are beginning to loosen as I surrender to the flow.  I am seeing that it helps that I am sober while I am getting my bearings and that the time I spend in Inipi ceremony keeps me in consistent dialogue with spirit.  My prayer for music is simple - for guidance, for healing, and that I’m a good channel for it to come through.

At the time of this writing, I am in solitude putting together the next release, titled On the Horizon.  It’s a playful batch of songs and although I am alone in making it, I do not feel lonely. I know you are all with me and that the joy of creation will be shared with you very soon.  Winter is a gift - an invitation to go inwards and craft the seed which will flourish in the spring, summer and fall of the year to come. This is the time for us to set the intention, to see what’s on the horizon and chart our course towards it.

Alex Simon