Reiki Diary Level 2 Cleansing: Day 18


Yesterday felt like the first true day of Spring and as I rose, so did the sun. And as I rose, I thought of one song in particular:

Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun, and I say.
It’s all right.

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter.
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here.
Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun, and I say It’s all right.

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces.
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here.
Here comes the sun.
Here comes the sun, and I say It’s all right.

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes…

Thinking about fellow Liverpudlian George Harrison in particular, who ever after death, has influenced a change in my musical direction beyond compare. For it was watching “A Concert for George” when I first came across Anoushka Shankar, daughter of legendary sitar player and Indian composer Ravi Shankar. As a father and daughter combo, they created a piece called “Arpan”, played exquisitely and expertly, reverberating around the circular walls of the Royal Albert Hall in London. It really was after watching that and taking up yoga that my auditory tastes changed, possibly forever.

George went through his own metamorphosis (coincidentally, perhaps, to be the title of my very own favourite Anoushka Shankar song) during the latter stages of The Beatles and post-split, being influenced by Mr Shankar and the Hare Krishna movement.

Every now and again I dig out my old metal playlists, but those days are few and far between. Morbid Angel, Obituary and Slayer gather much dust these days, mothballed, replaced by the aforementioned Shankars, as well as Russill Paul and various other Eastern based audibles. Not that all rock based tunes have gone the same way, there is still a special place in my resonating heart for Anathema, Liverpool’s own progressive, experimental soundscape merchants whose sound has go through as many changes as I have over the years. Their roots were in death metal, until a point in time where they lost their lead vocalist and took a completely new direction, influenced heavily during those transition-times by Pink Floyd.

Now matured, their last album was as close to perfection as one could get. I was also lucky enough to be in London the week they played the Koko in Camden Town to witness firsthand the best gig they have ever done (so say Classic Rock Magazine who awarded them concert of the year for that very performance).

Do check them out, some of their quieter tunes (look for Falling Deeper on iTunes which is an acoustic album) do make a fine accompaniment to meditation and yoga.

Saturday morning saw a Spring clean. As the sun shone through the windows, bathing everywhere in brilliant white light, the motes of dust danced majestically as we cleaned atop wardrobes. All winter garments where relocated up into the attic space as summer clothes made the reverse journey. It was so warm in the attic, Ra doing his best to heat the felt-under-tile, giving the dimly lit space a divine cosiness. Never one to pass up on an opportunity to relax, I sat in the loft and meditated for five minutes or so, accompanied by friends Anathema on my phone.

When I raised my eyelids, I had a mini-revelation. The space I currently sat in was just a storage dump. A refuse tip for all manner of rubbish, the space currently being underutilised and unloved. In an instant I had a “future echo” of what it could look like, a vision of a large Buddha picture on the wall, surround by wall candles, scatter cushions spread everywhere, me in the dead centre of the “karmadome” meditating on a mat underneath voile type drapings from the ceiling.

I had a new project. Some building work was required first (proper flooring laid down, an access ladder to the space and some plaster boarding) but I could see that I could very well at some point this year have my own private Idaho…

Late afternoon following the tidy up, we took our eldest shopping for a pre-Vegas clobber run, the theme once he headed off to the likes of Superdry and Jack Jones was again the wedding. Instead of rings, this time the focus was on the dress, and as coincidence would have it (just like the ring) it was the very last shop that bore fruit. The most perfect dress presented itself to the current wife and future wife (same person), fitting like a glove, the purchase made immediately.

A huge weight lifted off her shoulders, the dress something she had been looking for, for some time.

The evening was spent drinking 0.0% beer and watching The Voice (a UK singing / talent competition) which is not exactly to my taste, but when you get to spend two hours plus watching Kylie Minogue, then it’s time I’m willing to sacrifice…

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