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For as long as I can remember, songs have been arriving with lyrics, harmonies, melodies whispered in quiet moments. But in the busyness of life and leadership, I have often pushed them aside.
This summer, I said yes. An invitation came to write a song and collaborate on a friendās album, and I followed it.
Marcās musicianship is rare in a world of electronic music, in that he played and recorded every instrument before producing a beautifully layered acoustic backing track, which he sent over to inspire me. We both have a strong connection to water, and all I can say is that it really felt like the melody flowed. I arrived in his studio with it bubbling within me and the words came tumbling out as soon as I put pen to paper.
Five hours in the studio later, we had created the song that follows. I would say that those five hours were five of my most present and happiest in a while. Devotional singing has always felt like coming home to me, the merging of voice, spirit, and heart. And in giving it space, something has awakened. Since then, two more songs have emerged, and a whole backlog of melodies I had tucked away has begun to breathe again.
It reminded me that our fascinations are not distractions. They are callings. They are the threads of magic that connect us to our essence and magnificence. That magnificence does not demand that we get it right, or need things to be perfect. It is not about what anyone else thinks either, but about having the space to be present to oneself and to see what else might emerge from within when we trust and dive in.
In the Isumataq Collective we often speak about these intersections, about women as leaders, creatrix, witches even and makers of worlds; navigating all the edges, to show up fully and magnificently. And we often ask what conditions are needed for this to happen. I personally feel that attending to my grief has created so much spaciousness in my life. I also believe it is at the intersection of power and mystery, of devotion and creation, that our deepest contributions arise.
So I ask you: what is the creative expression you have tucked away? What would it mean to give it room, form, even just for a few hours, and see what comes alive?
For those of you curious to listen, here is the song:
https://open.spotify.com/track/4k5YsxZ9hLkzfrvTrJ3yhZ?si=Qeh_Eu_rR-SwxRIBYUQZPQ
Thank you for indulging me, and I would love to hear about what emerged in your moments of spaciousness this summer. A good rest is of course just as important!
Love,
Remi
PS In keeping with the āback to schoolā energy this season we will be looking at: 'Burnout to Bliss.'
I think I could write a PhD on burnout, so hopefully this is meaningful content for those inclined to reframe it, and work with it as a doorway to something deeper.
Also reminding you that the content for The Grief Reflections and Finding Resilience through Nature and Ancestry are now also available as stand-alone Coaching Shorts, if you want to dive into those topics : https://www.isumataqcollective.com/standalone-coaching-shorts
