When my partner Kokai and I first moved to Atlanta a year and a half ago, we were shadows of ourselves—disoriented and teary, living in a house we had rented sight-unseen off Craig's List. At night we heard screams from domestic disputes, and our dog, unused to the sounds of our new neighborhood, barked at every car door slamming outside. To comfort ourselves we set up a meditation room with our altar; the room doubled as my music studio.
Every morning we would sit, and then I would walk to the other side of the room and write. And I began to get "big" songs, which with hindsight makes a lot of sense. Big songs happen in the exact present; you just have to be there to grab them. And at that time, in the terrifying newness of my life, there was nowhere else I could be. Here's a link to one, called "Somewhere Different Now." The most amazing thing to me about this song is the way it created its own narrative. I didn't think or edit; I just followed, as though following the breath, as each moment told itself. In that space, new combinations of words and sounds unfolded, and in their unfolding, they were kind enough to rhyme.
"Somewhere Different Now"
by Tylan Yushin Greenstein (© 2007)
I took a long drive by the church and the high dive
Past the riverbank hillside, where we looked at the clouds
I believe in the big god, and the multitude of love
And the fact that it's just us helping each other out
Now I've just been reeling, staring up at my ceiling
Wishing someone would reach out, come and bust up my hideout
I'm not quite lost, not quite found
Just somewhere different now
I went walking past the corner lot, teeming
With weeds and trailers abandoned, people wandering around
I've been dreaming of gardens, crops that grow without dusting
In the San Rafael highlands, where we listened to bugs sing
Now I don't mind saying, I believe in the waiting
In the visions of grandeur, and the random encounter
I'm not on fire, not burned out
Just somewhere different now
Woke up this morning with a familiar feeling
Like the angels were crying 'stead of their normal flying
When did you get so certain, boldly draw back your curtains
Lightning strikes in the tall place, water flows to the street grates
Now I look in the mirror, can't abide what I see there
Still I'll play you a strong hand, what remains of a good plan
It's not quite gone, but it's not around
Must be somewhere different now
Now I caught a red light past the coffeeshop Starlight
And plastic Christmas adornments someone left on the pavement
Just to drive feels like passion, just to let the wheels roll on
Engine light keeps on flashing, don't know what has gone wrong
Now I keep believing, don't know if there's a reason
I search under the pillow for the crumbs in the willow
Cause they got me here, and I'm not sure how
But I'm somewhere different now
Tylan Yushin Greenstein is a singer-songwriter in the nationally
touring acoustic group Girlyman (www.girlyman.com). She has been a
student of Roshi Enkyo O'Hara at the Village Zendo since 2002, and now
lives in Atlanta, Georgia.