Hi,
it's Andreyetti,
and welcome to the third episode of Inhabiting Words.
Here I'm reading out journal entries
from when I was writing my new record,
Inhabit.
Today our focus is Arise,
the third wave of songs from the record.
A symbolic reflection
of the follicular phase of the menstrual cycle,
alike to the waxing moon, to the budding of
spring,
the gathering of energy and gradual uplifting of mood.
The relief of effortless
momentum is here.
This phase feels like the element of air to me,
the light breeze that
brings in that ripening feeling of freshness.
I don't have the habit of writing a date when
I journal,
so I'm just basing my readings now on a guesstimate of time,
but also just
listening to what jumps out to me on the page
that's in line with the themes of this wave,
and trying to be as spontaneous as possible as I read these now.
So these entries are inspired by
when I was writing the songs Give In,
Forward,
and Glasshouse.
I begin with a quote in Irish Gaelic.
I'm not exactly sure how to pronounce, but it's
ag barát,
meaning
there is a quivering life about to break forth.
I wrote,
no birth, no death,
deep treasure,
deep treasure, old eyes,
deep treasure,
only one person inside,
all the eyes in the room,
deep tender,
holding life,
stretching out,
stretching in,
continuing.
Arise.
It's a leap in magnetic direction,
following through with a surge of clarity,
a waxing glow,
follicular,
shooting up through the cracks in the pavement.
Next,
I found some lyrics from a song that
didn't actually make it on the record,
but felt really like the process of writing this song helped marinate
the themes really strongly.
I start at the edge of the end,
as far as the eyes can see,
as far as they can't.
Everything happens in my hands,
just as we said it would.
We have dreamt this before.
Constellations hover over how to see us now,
how we ground,
how we go,
take off into the dawn.
It matters that our matter is energy that lives.
Behind closed eyes and shapes of heartbeats,
we come down,
we come down to the same.
This animal is a tremendous lover.
In these stories, they have power.
Feel the lives that have loved before,
way of being, decor,
way of seeing our core.
This is me, the animal that I am,
protecting the life I know,
backcasting and holding your
hand,
the feasible,
calculating the immeasurable,
envisage, casual, miracle.
Thrive at the edge of the starch,
twisting open as I give back to the body who bore me,
ripening.
When a womb can heal, a change is born,
seeds scattered in the sounds curling out of mouths,
shaping into worlds.
And now I rediscovered
one of my journals, which is really big
and large and black and
has plain white pages,
cream pages.
And I found the original lyrics for the song Given,
or where the song began.
I dreamt of my feet walking without the ground beneath.
A staggered step and floating,
falling or flying free.
I'm lifted up by only life,
given all my need for reason.
Take me real,
take all my time,
turn me into the seasons.
I met a lighthouse flashing,
calling out my name.
Awaking is the rhythm of an empty frame.
I awake into the rhythm of my empty refrain.
Your story is my story.
Her story is his too.
This place is held together by the few who remember.
I'm lifted up by only love,
given all my need for reason.
Take me real,
take all my life,
take my whole life.
Turn me into the seasons.
They paint our bodies black and white.
Can you meet me in between the sides?
Thank you so much for listening to Inhabiting Words with me,
Sandrayati.
The next episode will be the last and final episode of this series.
It will be entitled Inhabit,
the same title as my record,
which comes out on September
5th this year.
Until next time, thank you again.
Bye for now.