Sunny Last Day Of September

Just returned from some time spent by the Inukshuk...an Inuit traditional structure of large stones placed on each other
to make a commanding shape...relaxing on a bench...and looking outwards to the blue waters and mountains across the way.
Waves...large enough to be heard...were coming in to the nearby shore...and it all brought a liberating notion to me. It was
that the dissonances experienced so far this year...among the land dwellers next to the ocean...including myself... were somehow being put in their place...as unnecessary baggage we make out of our life experiences. The finger of the ocean...coming in not far from my feet...reminded me of a "greater reality"...with the waves beating on this very shore from deep in the mists of time...and long before we shore creatures arrived with our quarrels...hypocrises...and wars. And so...for
a while this afternoon...I was able to rest any "stuff" I carry...down...and embrace the peace that can come when you are
priviliged to be...where "Creation sings"...and are able to let the city and life clangings be...hoping that back in the restless
arms of the city...you remember what you've experienced...on a sunny last day of September..................Quester.

The Auld Lang Syne Factor

Today I received an email from someone who heard me sing in an Ontario town over twenty years ago...bought an album at
the time...then sent away for others...and now that the days of vinyl are done...would like cd's of albums acquired then.
I have been priviliged to receive letters and emails...in similar vein...over the last while...with my finally becoming reachable
by email...helping the process along. For me...people reaching out like that...especially when much time has passed...has
always been much more than "business" to me. Rather...it helps me to feel I am part of a sisterhood/brotherhood...
where my music has been the catalyst to bring us together...but I am really fortunate to be connected...with some of my
fellow human beings...when we might never have been in touch with each other. When the connection is renewed over the
gulf of time passing...it particularly touches me. It is part of what I call "The Auld Lang Syne" factor in my life...the treasuring
of the good people I've been fortunate to know...from times long gone...and to this day. In the years that have passed...I
know that all our lives would have changed...sometimes dramatically...that time would have written on all of our faces...that
we would...likely...all have arrived at a deep appreciation...of a human connection...regardless of how much we have seen
each other over the passing years. I feel truly fortunate...that my music has helped this connection with some of the dear
people I've met along the way...or know a part of me through my songs. And so today...I thank all of those who have gotten
in touch again...despite so much "water under the bridge". As someone who has never looked upon my creations as part of
an "industry"...but to do with "being human" instead...it is these ones who have encouraged me on my road as an artist....
and an Earth Walker...who knows well...the value of "Auld Lang Syne"................................Quester.

Notes On A Grey Gloomed Day

Slightly after 2 p.m. and the air outside my Vancouver window is grey gloomed...and the streets are wet...but so be it...
perhaps now...I am less likely to be distracted from the daily work I'm hoping to do. In the last week...Louisiana has been
battered and inundated again...I wish the people there and in other places near the Gulf...Hope...knowing how hard it must be to muster right now. On a frivolous note by comparison...my hockey team has gone 0 and 4...with the players chosen
for the after game post mortems on tv...finding it difficult to repeat their cliches about it only being pre-season etc.
A marvellous concert the other night by a superb fados singer revived my spirits...reminding me that there is always beauty
...between the disasters and disappointments in life. Speaking of which...the mixing of my cd continues being delayed...
and I have to remind myself that...regardless..."the universe is unfolding as it should"...From having percussion sessions
just about every day...my delivery of my beats has improved...and if I keep it up...I may be able yet to put "percussionist" on
my somewhat crowded "business/life" card. Well...it may be grey today...but my mind's still moving...and recently i've
received some encouraging emails and responses to my blog...so...it's time for me now...to deliver the post like "Mr Wells
Fargo"...come rain or sleet or snow...[Reminder to myself...I should check the internet dictionary for the definition of "sleet"
although I have a vague notion of what it is]......................Quester.

Giving Value To Another's Words

One of the greatest gifts you can give someone...is to really listen to what he or she is telling you...and respond to it...based
on what you've heard. Most likely...we have all experienced the dissatisfaction of talking to someone...and having had what
we have said...brushed aside by the person we are trying to communicate with. This leaves you with the feeling that what
you have said...hasn't been actknowledged...or even worse...has been devalued by the person it was addressed to. If this is
done to you by the same person...many times in a row...the result can sometimes be clamming up in their presence...with
the potential for a fecund interaction between yourself and that person...becoming "withered on the vine". Usually...it is
the "devaluer"...so embedded in his or her world...and speaking endlessly from it.,.that leaves no space for considering what
someone has just said...and responding to it in a thoughtful or supportive way. Sometimes...there is a response...but it might
seem so shallow...insincere...humouring...or automatic...that it also results in a dissonant feeling when it happens to you.
Listening to others...then responding thoughtfully or with empathy...seems to be a secret that eludes a lot of people. If the
truth be known...attention to this aspect of life...can sometimes result in friendships being born...or instead of in its absence
causing dissonance...become a gentling and warming force...in the midst of the hardships and unsatisfactory interactions
we experience...on our human journey........................Quester.

Fados Singer

Went to a concert by Mariza...fados singer...last Saturday nignt. She moved effortlessly around the stage...a slender dark
gowned diva...singing from a place deep in her being...with utter command of her flexible voice. Sometimes there were long
pauses in a song...from which her voice would emerge singing powerfully...or return...wispily...then soon swell to her full
power...which was something to experience. Her main three musicians were excellent...and sometimes augmented by violin...
viola...cello...and drums. I particularly liked the sound from what I took to be...a traditional Portuguese instrument...which from the front...looks like a lute. I think it is that instrument...with the human voice...that is at the core of fados. Above all...
there were powerful emotions expressed by the singer...a lot of the time to do with "sodade'..which I would interpret as
being..."longing beyond nostalgia"...delivered with discipline...power...and excellence...that never lapsed into the saccharine
or pathetic. But such is the nature of fados...sung by the great fados singers...like Mariza...connecting deeply...even with
those who are open but do not speak the language of the singer...and are reminded of the common ground shared by...
us "born to dance then die" human beings............................Quester.

Poem: My Guitar Weeps

My guitar weeps...
by the city window...
as I hold her close...
saying never mind...
she will always have me
to lean on...
when she gets like that...
I try to comfort her...
but tonight she will not
be consoled...
and so I stay with her...
waiting for the time...
when her grief will be spent...
knowing no one will ever say...
"That one...she'd better watch out...
it's a thin line you know...
between sadness and madness..."

One Foot Before

[Verse and Chorus of song "One Foot Before
the Other One"...Copyright-SOCAN.]

"When Lonely
is a season that won't change...
And Freedom
is a dance that's cold and strange...
And Love
is just a word to fill a line in a midnight song...
Then it's one foot before the other one...
You'll walk on 'til the night is done...
And hope you live to see the morning sun..."
.......................................................Quester.

Patience And Perspective.

The mixing of the master for my new cd has been held up for the last while...and it's not clear how much longer it will be delayed. It's another occasion for me to go into my "Patience Mode". I've made it clear to the party in charge of the mixing
that I would like the job wrapped up soon...and now it's just letting it unfold for the next while without my spending a lot
of energy fussing about it. What has helped me to be calm about it...is that I've so far not set any harsh dead lines about
when it is tø be launched etc. My over all life approach...these days...is staying away from putting myself in ultra pressured
situations...wherever I can help it. In tests like the current one...this comes in handy. There is another factor I have to rise above...when I've put in a lot of work on a project...and its being delayed by the inaction of others. It is...having been exposed to the project for a protracted time...not wanting to see any more of it for a while...wanting it to be done with...not held in limbo...wanting to "put it to bed" as they say...so you can move on to something else that you haven't been over exposed to. Something else that helps on these occasions...is looking at the Bigger Picture...and noting the hardships other
human beings are going through in the Here and Now...that are...far beyond my current situation. Speaking of which...my
thoughts are with my fellow human beings...south of where I am...bracing for Hurricane Rita...as I look out to my mountains
...on a sunny tranquil day In September.....................Quester.

Poem: You Remember The People

Like silver fragments of a shooting star...still falling in your head...you remember The People.../ "Hint to Quashiba mek
Bashiba tek notice"...a word to the wise from the wise ones...an ancient knowing of how the World worked...as gnarled fingers pushed home a point..../ "Look at dis chile Marcus...better than dog eh?...better than dog"...the twinkling eyes of a
grandmother at the first helpful habits...of a brown...fast learning baby...and the earth chuckle of a tickled Marcus.../
"Daddy gone...Daddy gone...Daddy gone to Cove and John"...tired mothers singing to tireless babies...before the first cock's
crow...trying to give both food and comfort...and expressing their own longing for fathers in distant lumber camps...or in
some other kind of far away prison.../ "Monkey say cool breeze"...anger too...with laughter and longing...and a thousand
other shiftings of the soul...anger...suppressed once more...with the thought that some day this now pain would pass away...
and everyone...each in his different way...would get what was coming to him.../ Your paddle used to chop through...the gold
and purple flowers that floated on the February tide...and a vague sense of loss sometimes would come over you...flowers
only yesterday sucking in the morning sun...now floating wherever the brown waters would take them.../ "Mornin' Mr Peters"
..."Mornin' boy"...respect and response on the river road taking you to school...to learn about Red Riding Hood and the Wolf...
by mangrove and cruda guarded shores...where alligators watched and waited...for the midday sun that would bring sleep.../
"Boy...when you lappin' tall grass...use a fork stick in the other hand...you ain' seen me do it like dat a tousand times?"...
Maybe it was the knowing of what could be waiting in the tall grass...for blindly thrusting hands...but then again you were
bare-footed...so it must have just been the old knowing of the best way to do all the survival things under the dizzying sun.../ "Ting bad dis year mudda...ting bad...a whole boat load a plantain and dey only give me two dollar"...Overhearing
these words but not understanding fully what "ting bad" really meant...not reading well the worry lines etched deep on sun
struck faces...As you look back seeing better from a long distance...you can't help wondering if there was ever a year
for your bare-footed nine children family people...when "ting" wasn't bad..." Dat man know how to put his mouth where the
soup drippin'..." in the midst of the patient waiting...by the ones knowing only the back breaking days of digging...chopping...washing...and sawing...in the blue heat of August or the steaming wet of January...a sudden outburst of
contempt...for those who tried to find the easy way ou of the sun trap.../ "Miss Mary big foot shine so bright dat you tek um
fuh silvah"...children not having yet reached the age of filaria...singing cruel songs about those who had...in the time when time is never ending.../ "Jumbie lef he pipe hey...no-ko-no-ko"...young ones playing with fire and not knowing it...or maybe
trusting the jumbies not to take offence about child games...as they may have stood nearby and invisible watching...water
mumma...old heig...di-di...and massacuruman...joining the jumbies...in whispered conversations by some of the old ones...
on a Saturday evening by the dark river.../"Eat it boy...what don't kill does fatten!"...an acceptance of hard times in a few words...in the deep green tree and river land...where no-one ever heard of a nutritionist.../ "After a time...is another time"...
Yes...those life scarred...but sometimes laughing ones...who moulded your young years...had a Knowing...a live...laugh...and
die Knowing...you must not forget...you cannot forget.../ Now...in "another time"...the snow lies thick white...outside your
window...and the years have fallen away...as fast as November leaves...but under "electric light"...and by the ice painted
window...you remember The People.........................

This Crazy World

Was invited to and sang at a Poet's Against War benefit concert last night. Spoke about how those who do not hide from the
dark happenings in our world...or even try to help the human race liberate itself...or redress injustices in one area or another...are in danger of being engulfed by the darkness...after being exposed to it for too long. Then spoke about how a
certain realization has helped me...in the past...not to be discouraged by the manifestations of darkness we hear about or see every day. It was...that although some human beings keep causing grief to others...and this has existed throughout human history...that there has been light and beauty...simultaneously available...in human beings and Creation...while this
has been going on...and this is still the case. Then said...being aware of this on-goingly...and especially as we encounter the
darkness...can help us to go on...rather than be made ill by it all. I then sang a song...with this notion underlying it...called:
"This Crazy World"................................Quester.

Poem: Slight Furtherances

Through my window on the world...I see...sprig of tree...
russett tipped and swaying...
grey pigeon and white gull...on speckled roof top...
Further on...ever green branches up-thrusting...
Then...rectangles and squares...crawling up Grouse Mountain...
Sloping patches of white against the dark green...
for those having fun as they slide down hill...
In the absence of blue above the mountains...
it would be easy to go directly to bed...
the greyness of the sky is too much like...
the greyness inside...but instead...
today...I seek a "slight furtherance" of my life...
whether the rain is coming...or not...
A small advance with each day...is as good a goal as any...
past the time of ego sending forth unbridled dreams...
you look for your liberation and continuation...in smaller places...
Perhaps...gradually assembling...a necklace of "slight furtherances"...
flags to mark...each time you could have...but didn't...
surrender to...the beckonings of an ever present inertia.....................

Crows...Gulls...And A Duck

[July written] A black duck just flew across the pale blue sky...above the level of the green mountains...across from my front
window. For some reason...this gave me pause...as I thought: "Don't they usually fly with companions?...what is it doing alone?". The other thing I noticed was how solo duck was flying in a straight line...as if fixed on a target up ahead. Earlier
today...as on many recent days...I had noticed gulls and crows...celebrating the sun light and warmth of the day. Their flight
was in arcs and turns...so different from that of the solitary duck. Then the penny dropped...the duck was heading across the
roof and tree tops...to where there was water...and had no need to stop on roof or tree...this was what accounted for its purposeful flight!. Feeling a bit like Sherlock Holmes...I settled back on my couch...watching the top most branches of a tree...dancing in the breeze...to and fro...feeling more of a connection with...the gulls and crows...rather than my cuddly web
footed friends...on this sparkling day in July...........................Quester.

Skating And Me

Not long after I arrived in Canada from a country always free of ice and snow...and...of course...the fun and games that go
with it...I tried ice skating. I persevered for three trips to the rink...then...on the last occasion...after floundering
gracelessly...only to be flung to the ice one time too many...as I tried to do something that was very unnatural to me...saw
the writing on the wall...and retired from my brief career as a slap stick "artist on ice". Perhaps it's knowing how hard it was
for me to stay on my feet...while perched on two thin blades...on ice...that has deepened my appreciation of what some
people are able to do...with grace and athleticism on ice. Over the years...hockey became my favourite sport...as a "watcher"...as I marvelled at what the big men did...as they glided and bumped..up and down and around...chasing after a
small black puck. In a little while today...I'll be heading out to watch...the Vancouver Canucks intra squad game...given the
regular season hasn't started yet...but I can't wait anymore...for it to begin.........................Quester.

Let Go Of Perfection

"Mistakes are like a teacher's voice...
telling what we have to learn...
If we could be error free...
would we be human...you and me...?
There's no-one who ever lived...
who lived like a saint from the start...
Let go of perfection...now...
and follow the beat of your heart..."
Quester.

Two Universes

There are many things people say to you...or in your presence...that fall into the category of provocations...or things you
didn't particularly want to hear. For example...putting down someone you have a good opinion of...or lauding the virtues
of someone you perceive to be a phoney...at best. As I don't believe in arguments...or gossip...if I can help it...on these
occasions I have to muster as much discipline as I can...to remain mute...rather than descend on to the "low road"...being
offered me. Then...there are occasions when two universes about to collide...is a palpable danger. Let me explain...last night
someone involved in generating poetry contests...trying to be supportive of my poetry...said...listing some of my poems she
liked..."you never submit your poems to all the contests we've been having...it just doesn't make sense!". "Maybe it makes
sense to me"... I replied...smiling. I was tempted to refer her to a posting on my blog done some time ago...called "No Surrender...Maybe"...in which...among other things...I mentioned my dislike of the word "submit"...as it is used in poetry
contest...and other...notices. The person involved here is someone I like...who has done much good work on the poetry
scene....but I think this was a good example of inter-action between two differing belief systems. Over many years as an artist ...whether its writing poetry or anything else...I have learnt "not to give away my power" to others...to judge my created work. There are other factors in my approach...which I felt no need to get into...last night...or now...for that matter. I am glad that on this occasion...I didn't let myself be triggered into jumping on to my soap box...to defend my approach to being an artist. So...on this evening...I am happy to report...no dissonances came out of two universes...brushing gently up against each other.........
.....................Quester.

Poem: This Dreamy Island Land

The trees in the east...
are painted with a thousand tints
of the new green of spring...
To the west the turquoise lake shimmers
in the crystal afternoon sun...
Across this dreamy island land
there is sudden beauty everywhere...
But paradise is not of this earth...
at your door...three children...
with dark dusty faces...
and faded jeans...
ask you for...
beer...cigarettes...and whisky.......

Care Of Songs

In today's studio session...i completed the recording of the final rythm guitar and percussion parts...to the songs for my
next cd. What this means is that I no longer have to focus on the twelve songs in question...to come up with arrangement
ideas...the rehearsal of parts created...then facing whatever challenges may arise...in doing the recording of these parts.
There is a category in my work as a song-writer...I call "the Care of Songs" part. This is about making sure you have good
quality recordings of the songs you write. I have written many songs over the years...and despite the twenty plus cd's I've
made...many of my songs remain without this piece of "care"...i.e. the only versions I have of them were made on whatever
little cassette player was to hand...during the heat of creation. In addition...to the low technical quality of the recordings...
they were made usually...right after I wrote the song...without my being fully versed in singing or accompanying it. It usually
takes a song a while to "jell'...after you've written it. An optimum arrangement for a song doesn't often happen on the day
you write it...and as you sing the song after you have written it...you might find it necessary...to change words or even notes.
There are times when I've changed some of the words of a song...ten or more years after I've written it. In the songs I've
just finished recording...there are one or two that fall into that group. There is still the mixing of all the parts to be done...
and doing all that is needed towards having this cd...completed in all its aspects...and ready to "go out into the world"...
but...as of today...a dozen of my "created offspring"...have been "sent off to college"...with my work in creating and shaping
them...finally over..........................Quester.

A Belated Thank You

As I may have said before on this blog...I was raised on the banks of a river in the country side of Guyana. Where I lived...there was no electricity...radio...televison...or...of course...computers. Acquiring my first computer only a few years ago...involved...for me...overcoming a reluctance I brought with me from my early shaping...to tangle with "new fangled"
machines...as some of the folk on the river may have called them. Subsequently every new computer function I've faced...
has been a mini-Mount Everest...[I hope that's not an oxymoron]. Since my computer acquisiton...I've scaled the walls of...
sending emails...even some with attachments...forwarding...word processing...and a biggie for me as an artist...learning to
make digital pictures...which then flowed into the making of my own cd covers. In a relatively short time...a revolution has
happened in my life...because of my computer usage. Having said that..."jungles of computerdom" stlll surround me...all those things I haven't figured out how to do on my magic machine. Last night...I climbed another mountain...finally figuring
out how to respond to someone's kind comment about my blog...and actually making it work. This posting is actually a belated "thank you"...to those who have sent me encouraging words about my blog...before I had figured out...technically...
how to thank them. From what I gather...the window for being able to do this...technically...is a short one...and so...it seems
...those who wrote in prior to this last week...can't be reached with a response. So...thank you kind folk...who have not heard
from me in the past. I do appreciate your encouraging messages...and from now on...should be able to respond...in the short
window offered for responses...and bit by bit...learn some more about the many mysteries hidden in my shiny white machine.
.............................Quester,

Faint Flickerings

It's been about forty minutes since I started waiting pen in hand...blank page before me...for something to write about and
post today. In that time there hasn't been a total absence of thought...but more...the experiencing of mute flickerings in a
distant place in me...beyond a layer of clouds. More than anything else...it is a commentary on the "space I'm in'...as they
used to say in the "time of flowers and slowed thought processes"...rather than an absence of things to write about...which I
know are always there...in abundance. A thought about the aftermath of the hurricane...pulses faintly by...followed by the
notion..."but what is there left to say about something so awful". Then a verse of a song of mine called: "Pictures of another time"...takes its turn as an introduction to a piece about the legions of people I've known...but have lost touch with...to which
the devil's advocate in me whispers..."Come on...think forward...not backward!". Perhaps another time I will honour some of
these people with a posting...but the tide is flowing in another direction today. And so...the muted thoughts and dismissals
have gone on...as I waited...until I can no longer wait...and excuse myself from waiting for a reluctant muse today...and start
in to writing about "faint flickerings"...on a day replete with...inner and outer clouds.........................Quester.

Poem: September Unfolds

{Just written.]

Sunday morning...
pigeon flutter...
wheel surge...
sun goldening yellow swaying leaves...
I see...through my light blue window...
For a moment...
I let go...of my compass...
and steering wheel...
Things are...as they are...
as September unfolds...
not needing to ask me...
or anyone else...
how we're feeling today...

Poem: First Snow Fall

I had heard of snow for so long...but had never seen it...Canada and snow for the longest time...had been inter-changeable
in my mind...My Guyana head-master's cotton-wool for snow on the Christmas tree...had not quenched my longing for snow...real snow...Whereas winter was the dragon in my equator head...snow was the fair lady...and I wanted to get to know her...It must have been December of that first year in Canada...when one morning half awake...I looked out of the back window...and my mouth fell open in wonder...The grey rutted back yard of the day before...had been replaced by a blanket of
sparkling white...and a million puffs of white were sifting lazily down...upon the earth...going to sleep under its cover...
I stood at the window transfixed...by the slow diagonal movement down...of these pale dots from the sky...Already the roof-
tops of the houses across the way...were cushioned with white...and it made me feel...this day should be a slow holiday...
while mothers and fathers sat by their fire-places with their children...telling stories...That innocence and wonder should
dance wide-eyed today...beyond the crackling fires and snow swept fields...That all that was harsh and crude and jangly...
should be banished today...and a gentling smile should light up the morning...and soften the lines on the worried faces of
the North People...I ran outside...feet thrust hurriedly into slippers...and panths and coat untidily over pyjamas...I turned my
face up to the sky...to meet the slanting snow...My face tingled and prickled with each cool contact...I stuck my cupped hands
out to gather in...some of the objects of my long wonderment...They tickled my hands...and turning to blueish grey...vanished before my eyes could figure them out...I stood there for a long time...my face tilted upwards...my hands out-
stretched...feeling an awakening...an elation...a hope at that moment that I had lost...during the cruel grey and black and
naked days of November...The pain of my rapidly numbing fingers and slippered toes...finally jerked me out of my reverie...
reminding me that this was no gentle holiday...and in a hurry I would have to find my way...through the slippery streets of
Scarborough..down.to the cold caverns of King and Bay....................

A Break By The Bay

It's a slightly cool but very pleasant September afternoon...with many clouds...but blue enough for the sun's rays to come
through every now and then. I feel really priviliged to be able to come down to English Bay...where I am right now...when
ever I need to refresh my spirit...as I look out on the water and the mountain vista before me. I usually give thanks as I see
this scene...once again...like so many times before. To live in an international city...and to be able to come to a place of
nourishment like this...with Stanley Park on its shores...is something I've appreciated ever since I came here twenty years ago.
This afternoon is no exception...as I take a break from whatever challenges are in my life...and know that while I have a place
like this to come to any time I wish...all is not lost..........................Quester.

Silence Of The Mountains

[Verse and Chorus of song: "Silence of the mountains"
Copyright-SOCAN}

"In the silence of the mountains...
in the shifting of the clouds that come and go...
there's a whispering to my soul...
of a world some sweet tomorrow I will know...
And on the side walks down below...
the busy people come and go...
so much to do...so little done so far...
as if this wheel of work and play...
will always see you through the day...
heaven forbid time should be standing still...
and the blindness was all gone..."
......................................Quester.

Head And Heart

[Verse and Chorus of song: Head and Heart
Copyright SOCAN]

"When head and heart
will dance as one,,,
a healing we will know...
for reason too needs mystery...
or withered we will grow...
Our heads can't stop
the knock at the door...
The time has come...
to be whole once more..."
...........................Quester.

Flowers From The Ashes

[Chorus of song: "Flowers from the Ashes"
Copyright SOCAN--from cd of same name]

"So many songs...so many towns...
and people passing through...
So many words...so many games...
so many foolish ways...
And every one...a teacher...
of a lesson meant for you...
The flowers from the ashes...
of your days..."
..........Quester.

Poem: October Morning

October morning...
the Queen of Coquitlam sails...
into a dream scape...
of blue misted mountains
and shimmering water...
My home lies...
somewhere beyond
the dream curtain...
we will slip through soon...
After which I will walk in...
the city of boats and bridges and flowers...
to my nest in the sky...
lucky to live...
within a ferry ride...
of the place of legends...
where reality and magic...
are one and the same thing...

Shifting Gears

Just returned from an evening walk. Had to zip up my jacket because of the coolness of the air. There may yet be some warm
days before winter comes...but the signs are all there...autumn is just about here. For me it signals preparing my mind and other planes of my being...to deal with a time that is not as "open faced"...as spring and summer. As a song of mine called
"Autumn Song" says..."Autumn never smiles...at those who face the wind...there are no favours taken...given...this time...
This time is for the wind...this time is for the stone...this time is for the one...who can catch fire". Perhaps that may sound a bit harsh...but it may have to do with the way...an equator born and shaped person...begins preparation for the "cooler times". for me there is a difference between the seasons spring and summer...when you can start relaxing and opening up yourself to your earth environment...and how you get ready for seasons that are not as easy or uplifting to you...autumn and
winter. I do...however..find autumn and winter...to be a great time for digging into projects that were not so easy to come to
grips with...during the distractions of spring and summer. All in all...I see the good in all of the seasons...it's just that I find
myself having to shift gears...as I begin to see signs...of a new season coming in........................Quester.

Inside Of The Cover

Now that my current recording sessions are nearing their completion...I am able to tell which songs worked out best with
the instrumentaion added. All the songs you choose to record are usually strong candidates for recording...if you have a cd
in mind...but as you add parts to voice and guitar versions of the songs...it's interesting how some songs surprise you in how
they turn out...some not coming out as strongly as you envisioned...and others...better. This has made me think of possibly
going with a different title for this cd than the one I originally had in mind...to match a song that came out particularly well.
As I also design my cd covers...using digital pictures I've created...last night I focussed on creating a second cd cover...having
done an original one two weeks or so ago...early in the recordings. I now have two possible covers after last night's efforts.
It is no point saying now what their titles are...because with these kinds of choices I usually give myself time for the final
choice to emerge...you could say..."organically". As of last night's work...I know my front cover designing is likely over on
this project...having two covers to choose from. Now...I have to make sure...I put the finishing touches to what is going to be
...inside of the cover.......................Quester.

Gifts To Find The Way

[Verse of song One More Chance--Copyright SOCAN
from cd of same name]

"Won some battles with myself...
who would have thought I'd win...
Flown above the mountains too...
before the clouds came in...
And I like everyone was given...
gifts to find the way...
and not to let the life force sleep...
then slowly fade away..."
........................Quester.

The Dancer Never Lies

I remember early in my new life in Canada...the thumping music playing at parties...and no one dancing...and sitting like all
the rest...immobilised by my wonder...at how anyone could resist such music...never having known this coolness of the
blood before. The years have evaporated like dew under Barbados sun...and the dancer in me chooses his moments...for
exulting to the music...when once upon a time...there was no choice. Like an urban guerilla...he has gone underground...not
sure of the consequences of revealing...under the gaze of cool and unacustomed eyes...what the call of the drum beat can
still do to him. And so...the dancers re-appear...on autumn pages...and winter canvasses I paint...imprisoned by the
limitations of paint and canvas...but caught in freeze frame gestures...as if to say to the world...look as long as you like...
but your gaze will not take this dance away...to the life force...this creation celebration dance. Mask to mask...we may fool
each other...with our actor's gestures...and our lawyer's words...but with body revealing...otherwise concealed chains...or
the liberation of cell and flesh and blood...from the wounds of individual experience...or history itself...as the music lights
a fire...below or above the limitations of intellect...the dancer...never lies.........................Quester.