Decalcification

A pair of tassels gently sway at the open window. The air is warm and moves about lazily. Because I had earlier burned some palo santo, my apartment smells strongly of the wood's distinct, ceremonious aroma. To soften the scent I opened the door to the balcony, in addition to the window in my bedroom, and the large, central window of the living room, so that fresh air poured in while the sound of sunny, soulful music from my speakers poured out. Soon friends will arrive, and no longer will I have the time to sit idly and enjoy the lazy richness of the day's unfolding.

Last night, after my friend James' performance at a local cafe, we went out with two other musicians who had shared the stage with him. One of them, named Petra, tall and slavic, had a jubilant disposition that was as contagious as it was charming. Her friend, Elaine, had been born in Ireland and then promptly moved to Canada before she could acquire the accent. She was shorter, dark-haired, and had worried blue eyes. Her voice, easily the most striking of the evening, had a pained quality to it which flared as she applied a delicate vibrato to a mournful song about the encroaching darkness. She and I walked the four blocks to her car before we drove to Upper Haight to park at James'. We spoke about music and art and the importance of creative expression. She told me she'd just moved here, back in June, and hadn't spent much time in San Francisco, save for the odd, late-night taco after a gig. Soon we arrived at James' where I dropped off my camera and tripod before the four of us walked to a bar on Haight Street where we'd talk until the wee hours of the morning.

At some point the conversation took a spiritual turn and we discussed the need for deeper awareness, empathy, the confronting of fears, growth. Petra told us of two experiences she'd had in South America, in the rain forests, on ayahuasca. So much is shown to you, she said, that it takes one, two, maybe even three years to fully process all that's revealed. The day after the trip, she said, you feel something unlike anything you have ever felt before; there is no hangover, no bad feelings, only a swelling sense of openness and love.

Her journey, as I understood it, had been a softening one, and her story served as a reminder to me that we should always seek to remain mindful of the world's way of hardening us - and how we should try to stay soft, no matter how hard.