
I was fortunate to spend four days in the mountains of North Carolina engaged in “Deep Winter Musicking”. It is an amazing experience to be able to come together with fellow improvisers to just play. That’s it, play and create without any end goal. Play and create just because we love to do it. Surrounded by nature, we improvised, we jammed out some classic songs, we read poetry, we wrote poetry, we danced, we sang, we talked, we laughed and we parted feeling inspired and fulfilled.
Some of the music we created was quite dark in tone. Winter is indeed a time for introspection. Poetry helps us see the world differently. I gained new perspectives on winter and darkness.
Darkness gives us the chance to rest and go inward. As it enfolds us, we can fall asleep. In sleep we can connect with our dreamworld. Where light exposes us, darkness hides us. It can be a refuge. It is silence, a chance to shut ourselves away from constant stimulation. Just as the roots of plants and trees need darkness to flourish, we need darkness to sleep. Sleep is rejuvenating. Silence and inward reflection are essential.
Darkness also allows us to cocoon. There is nothing more comforting than a soft warm bed on a cold winter night. During a busy day, it can feel so good to take a moment to close your eyes and breathe. Turning inwards lets us recenter. Silence and darkness offer a chance to pause.
During some periods of my life, I feared darkness, and would leave a small light on in my room. I’ve had unsettling dreams about trying to find my way through the darkness. Being in the forest at night can be especially unsettling because we hear so many sounds around us but we can’t see who or what is making those sounds - are we being stalked or is the night creature going about its own business? Darkness can make us feel vulnerable and lost.
Sounds can be dark: a dissonant chord or melody, a moody tune in a minor key, a demonic driving beat, screeching vocals and guitars, deep rumbling sounds. The music feels like a harbinger of a dark message. Such sounds can be very unsettling. Hearing cries and anger is very unsettling too. Expressing these emotions in music can be a very cathartic experience. In music, we can embrace both light and darkness. When we let darkness into our improvisation, we give voice to what is often hidden and unexpressed. We don’t like to be in chaos, we are uncomfortable in dissonance, but when we can embrace all sounds as full human expression in music, we become more compassionate and accepting of ourselves and others as we play. We open the way for a music of full human expression.
In darkness, we can see the most subtle lights. Being a city dweller, I am always happy to be away from the light because I can look up at night and actually see the stars. I saw lots of stars in North Carolina. The longer I looked at the sky, the more stars I could see. In the stars, I see endless possibilities and mystery. I feel humble and small. I feel awe. I feel comforted.
Another very subtle kind of visual phenomena that emerges from total darkness are phosphenes. These are beautiful swirling lights or kaleidoscopic color patterns that appear when you close your eyes at night just before going to sleep. Ever since I was a child, I loved observing what would just appear. Sometimes the colors are dull, or the swirls and dots are just white, and sometimes they are vivid and bright. I’ve noticed that when I create music before sleeping, the colors are especially vivid.
I invite you to notice your phosphenes again. Many children notice them but we adults go to sleep with much on our minds. When I focus on mine, I fall asleep more easily.
Try improvising with your eyes closed. It is a wonderful experience, especially when playing with others who close their eyes. We hear so many minute details that visual stimuli can interfere with. It’s a magical experience to drop into the realm of pure sound and feeling.
