SOUL SPARK

When the veil is lifted and the reality of the world is revealed, there still remains a brazen tiny spark that desperately treads the surface of our blackening eyes. The same spark that made us believe in Santa Claus; the spark of hope that makes us believe that what is broken can be fixed and that somewhere beyond the ugly truth is a beautiful possibility. Eventually, however, like a Chinese lantern cast into bitter waters by the cold hands of time, slowly the spark disappears into the undertow and with faith lost, we heal to the numbing darkness.

MY spark, though it continues to frantically fight the merciless currents, it is drifting further and further away from the shore every single day. I can no longer visualize a landscape other then the one that I can see with my naked eye; dirty, mean, angry, sullen, violent. Gone is the ability to see yellow behind the black. I've lost faith that I can change the world; that I or ANY ONE can write a song that can illuminate the darkness and heal all that is broken. Frankly, my hope and inspiration is fading and I don't know how to get it back. Though I'd like to believe that I am simply in a typical creative and emotional slump my disheartened heart beats with an aloofness I have never felt before. In my attempts to be inspirational and write inspirational, uplifting music, I am lately discouraged by an alien voice in the back of my head that screams 'what's the fucking point?' What's the point when I can't even rise to the surface long enough to be heard? When my expressions are simply corralled into a crowded swimming pool to float aimlessly, hoping that the man with the pool skimmer will pluck it out before it gets sucked into the filter with all the other rejected voices. And suppose it does rise for a moment, the ears of the world are so fickle and habitual that whatever impact is made is quickly forgotten. When the influence of someone as inspiring as John Lennon is fleeting then what hope do I have to make any difference? Yes, I realize how self-defeating this all sounds and I realize that I am, after all, only human and big or small, any attempt at positive change is worth pursuing, however, there comes a time when the task seems too daunting and maintaining sanity wins over progress. As well, the world is disappointing; people are disappointing and perhaps a small part of me believes that we don't deserve to be saved. There is an awareness of 'the real world' that has recently gotten the better of me; the world has broken my heart over and over and over again; people are callous, ruthless, judgmental, unfair and unfeeling. They have used the innocence of my passion and desire to humiliate me. They have deflated my optimism, my confidence and my spirit. They are selfish, self-serving, inconsiderate, greedy, egotistical and mean. Lastly and mostly, they are uninspiring. So now what? What happens to an artist when the inspiration is gone? How do all of the billions of hopeless souls make peace with the dark? How do I keep myself from becoming just another set of vacant eyes wandering the earth purposeless? What do I do with the melodies floating in my head when my voice is no longer inspired to sing? Who am I singing for and why should I risk baring my heart to a world that will schedule my failure the moment I succeed?

These days I see the rainbow of color in the stream that flows along the concrete gutters as nothing more than pollution. Gone are the days when a fractured coke bottle had the potential to be a creative treasure. These days all that remains for me is the smallest of sparks and if a breath of fresh air doesn't blow soon across my smoldering embers it's tough to predict how productive I will be as an artist. I'm hoping that tomorrow I will feel differently; that I will awake and my lungs will inflate and fill themselves with a brisk air of renewed optimism. That when I roam down the residential Sunday streets, counting the houses in placid rows, I will once again see an empire rather then a crumbling dream. I'm hoping the next time I'm greeted by a friendly face I won't see the obvious underlying resentment or ingenuousness behind their smile. I'm hoping that the next time I'm given a sociable hug it will feel more like a gesture of sincere affection and less like a popular formality. I'm hoping that when I watch a child swirl in the dirt with their naked feet I won't see the inhibited, withdrawn adult that is growing in their shadow. I'm hoping. I'm hoping today for more hope tomorrow, which I know sounds so cliche but it's really the only optimistic, positive statement I can muster for now....



*The title of this blog was inspired by the song 'Soul Spark Revival' written by Kevin Howley