we started out with the idea that you needed a symbol to invest with your intentions. for instance, a car. You can drive a car and go somewhere. If you don’t have a car well a bicycle or feet. But there has to be something which acts on something else to change your location. When we figured out divinity that the whole universe is a configured to reflect our consistent intentions, instrumentality transitioned from being the thing that did the work to becoming a symbol of the experience. A fetish for a ritual. The symbol to focus intention on. Then we moved to the symbol into further into the ephemeral, the transient sound of song was both an act and a consequence, the new instrumentality was measurable, but utterly transient in comparison to a car or starship. Yet the song changes the universe, by changing us first.
When I started to write the Science Fiction Musical, I thought it was merely a fun idea for an epic movie musical. the music was not incidental to the experience but essential. The story required the technology of music to move forward. I was a music enthusiast, but not quite yet a competent confident performer. I decided that if I were to write a musical, I’d have to amp up my singing and playing, to have more fleuncy in the medium. enough to render a song competently enough so that arrangers and collaborators could flesh it out.
Around about this same time I started learning about the Abraham Hicks model of reality and being decisive about my own radiance, what I felt and thought about.
As my musicianship increased and I started feeling more easy about singing and playing, I had an epiphany. What if I could sing the universe into new shapes? If I brought exhileration and rapture into my singing and playing, wouldn’t I in effect be doing exactly what I propose the characters in my movie were going to do, to sculpt the universe into shapes that fit their own joy?
This made me want to pick up the guitar and play, to see what might happen if I just blissed…