Let’s hold an idea – a simple idea, nothing extravagant or lofty – and then just let it come. Not creating anything. Simply opening the crown of the head, feeling the words tumble in, like stars from the cosmos above and around. Tapping into the collective mindstuff – it’s all floating out there, waiting to be collected, siphoned into one individuated consciousness as yourself. You are a child with a butterfly net. You are a wild creature with your ears open for any sound that vibrates by, any sign of life, any sign of danger, any sign of food, any sign of the pack. Listen.

This morning, what tumbles in is pancakes, hot and steaming. It’s not the pancakes that are important, or even how I drenched them with syrup and butter as a kid, or how I always had to cut them into tiny pieces before the drenching began. This morning, those pancakes are leading me to my mother. How she woke up earlier than all of us to make the steaming flapjacks, sometimes bringing it into our rooms for breakfast in bed, and not for any special or specific occasion. Just because she loved showing us how much she loved us.  Because her heart is bigger than the state of Alaska, if hearts were measured in size.

Trying.

Breathe.

Stop.

And go. You can feel when you start to push the flow, it’s like pushing a river to move faster. Every time you feel yourself pushing what’s coming, it will stall. Trying. Breathe. Stop. It’s a constant awareness, a continual taking-stock of the situation. Listening to what drops in, scribing it. And watching carefully for the moments when it’s no longer dropping in, but instead is coming from a tightened scrunched up place near your forehead. When the words drop in, it feels like keeping up with someone talking, trying to type as fast as they tell you the next word. When you force the river, it’s like reaching for a pencil on the top shelf, juussst baaarely too tall for your hands, and then AH! got it. And stretch again for the next one. It’s tiring. You can feel your body tense up when it happens. Whereas letting the words come in, that is a receptivity. Receptivity is always a sigh of relief.

Being a channel for words brings up an interesting question. Where do these words come from? Once you step away from the habit of “creating” the words, and instead receive them, who the writer is becomes less defined. And the question that follows is, why is it so important to know? Perhaps you will discover who your writer is. One day it may be an accumulation of thoughts floating around your head at that given moment. Another day it may be your grandfather narrating the story about the time he hid his father’s bocci set for a week just to see if his dad would get angry ever. And maybe some days it’s something very pure – higher self, or some energetic being, or however you may conceive of it – a voice that gives you simple insights. Be gentle with yourself. Trust the process. There are no wrong turns, no mistakes. It is a practice. Be with it.

Like any practice, you will sit with it, hate it, be confused by it, question it, and eventually get to know it. At that point, it becomes a friend you get to meet every day for tea. You sit down, take a sip of your tea, look at the page, say “hello,” and listen.

Some days your friend may speak in gibberish. That’s great. Write it down for later. Or maybe she’ll just launch into a long story, one you weren’t prepared to write. Well, get used to it. You’re the scribe to this muse, you must be ready for long-winded speeches and unplanned hours of note-taking.

Some days your friend might not want to talk. Then, as with any friend, you reassure her, “that’s okay, you don’t have to say a word.” Just sit a while together, look at the birds outside the window. Wonder what you’ll have for lunch. Then suddenly, without warning, it will just come out of her, like a breath held ten seconds too long.

The form doesn’t matter. What’s important is the Practice. You are practicing tuning your inner ear to the voice of the muse. You’re not used to listening like this, so be patient with yourself. It will take time. That’s what practicing is all about. You don’t throw perfect aim your first try. You work at it day after day till your muscles understand how to make your arm throw the ball where you want it to go.  Being gentle with yourself as you learn this new skill is essential.

I remember one evening near Christmas when I was about twenty-four, after a heated argument of some kind – I sat down, fire-full and angry, and the words just poured out of me so fast — it was all I could do to keep up as I wrote it down. It was a poem, and it was exhilarating. Looking back at it, the poem is okay – no masterpiece, for sure. But that isn’t important. What’s important is how that moment of simply opening up wide for the words to enter was a huge step in my learning what it felt like.

The form doesn’t matter. Pretty or ugly or decent or downright awful – it’s about the process of receiving. Every “bad” piece of writing that is received in a state of listening is worth ten pieces written well but constructed out of your brain and scrunched-up forehead.

In listening, you are giving up your control, and simply surrendering to what may come. This can be a little scary or intense. That’s good. Being in the state of receptivity means we are open to things far beyond our scope of knowledge or understanding, things much wiser than us. When you practice listening, you are like a young student sitting before the sage. You ask, “what would you like to tell me?” And she begins. And you write.

(This post is itself the experiment — written one morning, a streaming of consciousness, letting the words enter and be writ.)

Listen to Ayla’s Artist Residency interview with Chalk Hill’s director Alice Warnecke.

Ayla shares her methods for channeling inspiration, her conception of the singly vs. the multitude in human experience and offers insight into how she distinguishes songwriting and poetry.

As we welcome a new year, I am so excited and humbled by all the ways you’ve supported me thus far.
It makes me believe in this music all the more.

On the fundraising front… we’re almost halfway to the goal, and 50 days left!
I’ve got a good feelin about this.

The video below is to thank you, and is a prayer for the planet and this new year of 2012.

It is my own resolution, to hold peace in this heart, and to imagine the best possible future for us all.
John Lennon says it better than I can, so I use his words.

Enjoy

And please share the BeHeld campaign.
That is the biggest help!

Do you know any artists? Benefactors of the arts? Businesses, nonprofits, or families who want artistic collaboration or performance for events?

A quick email with the link does wonders.
I am so grateful for your creative help in spreading the word to any and all you can.

Blessings to you in this time of new beginnings.

love,
Ayla

Please consider helping me to make this album happen.
Click this box below:

A little update… after touring through New Mexico, Colorado, SLC, and California, I moved to the North Bay to do a month-long Artist Residency at Chalk Hill.
It is amazing — challenging in all the best ways (like being alone for whole days at a time) and wonderful in all the best ways (like learning how to really enjoy — and then adore — all this alone time).
Creating many many works. Two new music videos (one an animation), a book of poetry, new live video projections, and more… you will see it all very soon!

Here’s a song from the album:

More on the album soon…

Keep spreading the love and opening your heart, ever wider, ever further.

<3

Hello to all the dear hearts listenin!

Well. It’s hard to put into words all the beauty and growth this journey is taking me into. I began writing this note on a tiny island off Anacortes, WA, called Guemes. I woke to the soft rain and a gorgeous garden, my head resting on a pillow given to me, in a room of wood paneling, in a stunning house designed and created by a sweet architect couple.

How do these things happen? The generosity and welcoming that’s been showed to us on this tour is overwhelming at times.

I am starting to see how it unfolds though…

Portland was the first landing spot. One of the most beautiful cities I’ve ever experienced. The rhythm and pace match mine — slower than the urban living, and just fast enough for the creative sparks to bloom. After an all-night drive from Oakland to Portland, instruments arranged like tetris in Zipporah’s tiny new car, we were welcomed into the home of a dear friend, Amanda, and fell asleep to daybreak. After a sweet first show at Valentine’s, I got the sweetest three vacation days of restful exploring. Fourth of July fireworks… I ran around with my camera catching the bursts, like a child catching butterflies in a net. Now the fireballs burst at every show, projected over me as I sing “Oh Love!” Oh love. Oh Universe! Could this really be my life?

Perhaps happiness can be a state of being, believing it’s real makes it possible, probable…

My bones tired of sitting and standing, I searched for ecstatic dance — and lo and behold! Portland has 2 events each night for dancing. I met up with Michael, my tour buddy for the rest of the trip… and we danced! At the end of the closing circle, I found myself talking to Phillip, a man who’d just popped in on a whim. He not only invited me to perform a house concert in his home, but also connected us to Eratosthenes Fackenthall, a filmmaker creating “Ballard Sessions,” video songs of musicians touring through.

So in Seattle, we wandered a forest park and beautiful abbey, and this (and more) was created:
Oh Love!

Seattle was a lesson in relaxing, in no expectations… as I let all expectations fall away, I suddenly found myself in better-than-hoped for scenarios. After an effortless and joyful show, we drove an hour north at 2 am, camping in the field of the brother of Eratosthenes, who we never even met (though spied through a distant window)… we left in the early dawn light, to catch dancing in Vancouver B.C.

Of course, we landed in B.C. without a penny of Canadian currency, yet still somehow found it to the dancing… upper story, windows all around, dancing to a full view of Vancouver. Our sleeping spot had fallen through last minute, but we had a whole lot of trust in the Universe in our hearts at this point… and sure enough, we barely finished the sentence of “can anyone host us a night…” when a man’s hand shot up. (Later we’d all remember how quickly and trustingly he’d raised his hand, how it seemed perfect in every way that we stayed with him…) His name was Musa, and he welcomed us fully into his home and life. Long conversations about life and learning, walks in the park… we gave him EFT sessions and massage, he gave us a home, fresh coconut butter, and bowls of chopped fruit. Synergy of synchronicity.

Vancouver reminds me of the Alps… the mountains so massive and regal, touching a stillness and solidness in me deep as the layers of rock, deep as the time when the rock began…

The show went great. I had all sorts of loop pedal malfunctions and little hitches, and it didn’t matter, cause we were singin our hearts out! One woman came up to me crying, she was so touched. I was deeply moved by the honesty shared with me, by everyone there. Another man said it was the most heartfelt performance he’d ever experienced. I am realizing how the more I feel into this immense joy and gratitude, the more the notes of each song are carried by those frequencies. And so singing has become much more than sharing songs. The responses I’m receiving from these shows are affirming my life as a healer and artist. To a point that I’m almost overwhelmed in thankfulness as I look at this path before me…

After many thank you’s to Musa, we were off to Bellingham, to a cooperative house with a community library, the Sushi Tribe nonprofit that hosts travelers, readers, and community. We cooked soup, made friends, and gave a gorgeous performance. Waking up to rainy skies, bright green leaves… I sat with the stillness, with the song of the suburban trees. A friend was synchronistically visiting town, researching permaculture farms… so we headed out of town, to a gorgeous farm, where we picked a huge box of raspberries, then bought chocolate ice cream to eat with the raspberries (though by the time we got to the store, half the berries were munched away…) Joy!

It was a short ferry ride from Anacortes to the Island of Guemes… taking a drive that afternoon, we found it only took about 20 minutes to go round the entire island! Sweet people, lush trees and vibrant land. The local event planners requested I return, so they could pack their community hall next time. Yes! I will return, Guemes. I will return.

In Port Townsend we were invited to play music at a fundraising event, singing, projecting video, and dancing into the night with the locals downtown. We stayed in the home of Michael’s friends who’ve bought land, who are making their dream a reality, creating their landed community. Amazing to see the dream become a reality. It’s happening.

We sat up in the attic in a circle, each sharing their own shade of major life transition. The path ahead is exciting, these are new shoes that have felt too large previously. Now the shoes fit perfectly. And I’m fully, devotedly, unalterably ready to walk forward. There’s not even another option at this point.

Transitions are an incredible doorway into the unknown, an amazing opportunity to stay open and trust in what’s coming. I am equally overwhelmed and grateful for these major life shifts.

The next day we drove deep into the Olympic National Rainforest. Why? Because our hearts called us there. So many other options… but what matters most, more than ever, is listening to the inner voice. Tuning in. And following the lead of the intuition.

And it led me to the tallest Spruce mama, her roots deeper than any I’d met. The moss hung gracefully, the trees whispered songs into my bones…

Come with me
so I may always remember
how stillness is majesty
and silence is wisdom
Come with me
so I may always remember
how many more lifetimes you’ve existed
how you bend to the whims of the wind
yet rocks are moved by your roots…

We must risk everything to follow the heart.

To dance with that beat, that rhythm… it’s like jumping off a cliff into the unknown fog, trusting there’s water or soft hands to catch you. Just trusting.

The door’s been opened, I am officially and deeply in the experiment of TRUST. The experiment of receptivity. Staying Open. Letting go and flowing. Breathing in each change, each moment, as a cosmic significance, a divine interaction of universal will and personal intention.

“Meeting the Universe halfway” is my new mantra.

And Gratitude is my new status quo.

And I am so grateful to each of you, in all the ways you have encouraged me over these years, and all the ways you inspire me to create and share.

Thank you.

Time to follow our hearts, ain’t no other way…

Ready? One, two, three…

<3

“And again my inmost life rushes louder,
as if moved between steeper banks.
Objects become ever more related to me…
I feel myself more trusting in the nameless:
with my senses, as with birds, I reach
into the windy heavens…”
~ Rainer Maria Rilke

these performances will be a whole slew of new songs put to video projections that set the scene, told in progression as a story from start to finish. we will be going on a journey together each concert.

however, i still need to fill in a few dates for the tour!
do you know of sweet venues, houses that would host a concert, art spaces, or even outdoor places where a show could happen?
i would be so grateful for your suggestions.
please write to me at aylanereo [at] gmail [dot] com.

cities on the tour trail:

*Ashland, OR
Eugene, OR
Portland, OR
Olympia, WA
*Seattle, WA
*Bellingham, WA
*Port Townsend, WA
Vancouver, B.C.

Thank you so much! Hope to see you on the journey…

thank you Bobby, for inspiring me to write words and songs…

Fool’s Gift

No Opposition

Lily Moon

I am excited to share these creations, and so grateful to all who collaborated in making them! Check back soon…

if you are a dancer of filmmaker, and are interested in being involved, go here to read more, and contact Ayla with your interest/talents/inspirations.

here and now! we collaborate.