The impulse to create is what I believe sets us apart from the cooler, lower primates. There’s some god-touched particle in the heart of every creator and lover of creation that reaches back to the first soul who beat the first drum under the stars. It will stretch all the way forward, to the last song on the lips of the last person.
I think we grieve so hard for our artists and musicians because we know there is magick in them and what they do proves there is reason to go on in the face of any cruel fate. We recognize that miracle of creation in ourselves. We can’t always see it, but we know it’s there.
I didn’t lose anyone in the Ghost Ship fire last night. I don’t even know how to feel or what to say. I do know this is a fucking rough year.
If there is anything sacred, it is the artist. Last night too many were lost. I hope more come into this world. An unstoppable tide of open minds and brave hearts. If you’re already here, I hope you keep making more of whatever it is you’re called to create. There’s more to do than you can imagine and less time to do it than ever before.
May you bring dream and hope to the world, no matter what side of the veil you’re on tonight.