Remember when I was doubting if it was worth it to haul all this music equipment across the Pacific Ocean? Well, now I’d say yes. Most days the bed is covered in instruments and cable snakes. It’s uncomfortable on my back to work like this for more than 30-60min. I do wish I had an open desk space to spread out and produce on a screen at eye-level. That’s the dark side of this life as a nomadic songwriter and music producer…discomfort, constantly unpacking and repacking, constantly changing acoustic conditions for recording, and DIY solutions to make it work on a tiny portable toy when really I wish I had a full piano to play on, a full set of monitor speakers to hear the song in full space around me, and a vocal booth to capture crystal clear vocals. The light side is that I’m singing in new places which fill me with fresh inspiration. I can hear the ocean waves outside keeping me fluid and grounded. The energy is moving all around me and the mermaid daydreams swimming in the mind are fragrant in the atmosphere around me as well. I remember myself making music in the vocal booth in Seattle, in the art studio, the air was still and stagnant. I closed my eyes and dreamed of the ocean. I had perfect recording conditions and my soul was stifled. Now, the recording conditions are rough and the spirit is flying. I fantasize about a professionally treated music studio on the beach now; the best of both worlds. Dreams reveal themselves gradually.
Most days town is a puddle. Clothes are constantly damp. It’s a sweet treat to pick up a bag of fresh laundry from Komang’s washing machine and feel the clean dry fabric on my skin. It’s a sensation that doesn’t last long. It’s savored. The potholes in this town were last repaired twenty years ago. Apparently, roadwork will begin again in 2024. I really don’t mind the rain so much. I’m warm. The air is humid and yet at any moment I can jump in the ocean and freshen up. The magic in this town far outweighs the discomfort of daily rainstorms. In fact, the rain helps maintain balance. On sunny days I play outside, yoga on the beach and scooter rides to the mountain tops. On rainy days, I turn pages in the dozens of books I’m reading simultaneously. I usually have 5-10 books going at once. I switch between them, dipping in to different topics as the moods change throughout the days.
And here I am, living a dream. All I craved for years was the opportunity to sit undercover in the jungle during tropical rainstorms and produce music on the laptop. Here I am. This cafe is a local spot for me. I drink matcha lattes, eat ginger biscuits, pour tea out of gorgeous china pots, read those books on the Kindle, and listen through the freshly vocal takes I just recorded back in the bedroom. It’s a simple life here. In the bedroom I sleep to the sound of the ocean. I meditate on the porch at sunrise. I stretch in the sand as the sun gets hot. Black sand gets everywhere. I wash it off in the stone shower. A little workout on the porch with resistance bands; a portable “good-enough” gym I carry wherever I go. I walk across the street to sit in the cafe and write in the journal, this blog, and respond to messages pinging in from all over the globe. The audience I’m speaking to now is worldwide; Egypt, London, upstate New York, Southern California, Australia, Malaysia, Isreal…hello all of you! I’m livestreaming again to show up to connect with you. To finally have a large audience to offer these gifts to is a dream come true. All I want is to be playing in nature, creating and sharing with humans. Here we are. By the end of the day, I’ve taken a few steps forward in the new songs, learn a thing or two about the human body, the mysterious of the ocean, befriended someone new in the freediving community, and eaten a freaking delicious meal. The food here is something to look forward to.
And again, I’m living a dream. Does living a dream feel thrilling? Sometimes. Often it’s just peaceful. I’m relaxed, chill, moving very slowly from the beach to the hilltop. I’m opening up an application on the computer and patiently listening to the sounds I just made up. I’m staring at the view and watching kids and cows walk by. Living a simple dream is simply dreamy. Watching other people go about their lives is a dream. Mothers with three kids on the scooter. Farmers with a bushel of grass on the scooter. A hotshot young man with golden locks flashes by on his golden scooter. A couple divers drive by with long fins sticking out of their drybags. An old woman walks by in pajamas with a rag on her head and a machete in her hand. Yep, this is a phenomenal dream life. The hills are bushy green. When the sun shows up my heart dances.
These cats are in mating season. I think it’s his first time because he keeps crawling on her back and missing the hole. She’s squealing, sticking her ass in the air and literally couldn’t be making his job any easier and yet there he is, chasing her around and climbing on her back like he’s a koala. We were watching a movie and I heard the cat howls. I ran outside to watch (of course) and it’s been a week of solid National Geographic comedy.
The music equipment I was most skeptical to pack was the Akai MiniPlay MIDI Controller. I stood at the airport in Seattle, a little sick to my stomach, shoulders aching, cursing myself for bring a miniature piano with me to South East Asia. WTF. Why? Isn’t a guitar enough? Seven new songs later and hours of playing with the unlimited electronic sounds at my fingertips, I’m not cursing anymore. I’m loving it. I’m grateful for it. The guitar is a tool of vibration. It’s alive with me. It’s an emotional friend, a relationship with character. It keeps me company and I get to improve a technical music skill that I can pull out at parties. The MIDI controller piano…now this is a cold no-hearted object that is a tool, a portal at best, into a magical world. It’s just buttons and those buttons let me compose an entire symphony. The guitar makes one type of sound…guitar and a little drum beat sometimes in the body. The MIDI control just stares at me like, “Well…..skys the limit babe. What sounds shall we make today? Trumpet? Piano? Space warp wobble? Cello? Let’s gooooo!!!” If loving this guitar is like being friends with a dog, then the MIDI controller is like being friends with R2D2. A little muesli and music in the beach chair is a happy little magic for a simple afternoon.
I was scared at first when I heard the yelling. My solo female travel radar was flashing fast. Why are there men yelling outside my door? It was the middle of the night and the fishermen were on the beach, lights flashing around, shouts, scraping noises. If you see a fisherman putting on his jacket, a storm is coming. They’re the first to know. Even if you see sunshine all around, follow their lead. Take cover and watch the ocean move in quickly for you. The men were pulling the boats up onto the grass, off the sand. The waves were coming up higher on the beach than usual. It was black night. I watched from my window. They needed to get many boats off the beach and onto land so the ocean wouldn’t wash them away. The night grew quiet again and all was well. These Balinese fishing boats, “jukung”, have been on the grass in front of me for days. I climb over and under them to get out into the world. Their charm is growing on me.
Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde