Curiously, I have fallen ill.  Late in the morn I awoke with the close memory of a miserable eve, dominated by physical unrest.  As my body sought to return to alignment, a tumultuous storm swept throughout, causing all stray energies which had ventured out in curiosity to take refuge in their respective places. To-day, as I poke my head out to examine the aftermath, I find the sky clearer and more beautiful than in many months past.  A complete understanding of Purpose is ubiquitous, and its actualization within the immediate grasp of my imagination.  It is a state which I call Inspiration, which when unattainable through gratitude and affirmation is inevitable – finding its way into my sphere by more forceful means.  Oft do we erroneously consider sickness an evil!  I could not be more thankful for this holistic internal mechanism which as a last resort will always force me back onto my path.

I did have a dense agenda for this day which has been subordinated to rest and nurturing of self.  There is a stillness and feeling of complete surrender which would otherwise not have been.  Is not surrender always the antidote for what ails us?!  Every Spiritual master, guru, and philosopher in the history of our world has alluded to this magic wand at our disposal, yet it evades me how it can be in my hand and yet I fail to employ it!  Alas, when the mind has been allowed to have its run of things it does not willingly abandon its station!  I can only conclude that these lessons are scattered about my path – spiraling forever upward – to instill a deeper reverence for Life.  It knows how to work on its very own, without the aid of logic, and how to bring about the very conditions which would serve us best.  These conditions are the precursors to our will and not the result, as our self-important grey matter would insist.  Within every heart has been planted a seed of Grand Purpose, which when allowed to sprout, and then watered by will, is sure to flourish into realization.  And so it is.

Mister Hazelwood

My Fellow Travelers,

There is a Golden light at the end of the tunnel.  It grows brighter and brighter as we advance upon our course, bolstering the promise of a new Era.  It was this time two years past when I began to enter the most dramatic creative epoch of my adult life.  With the fall of the first leaf, original ideas began rushing into my consciousness at a profound rate – overflowing onto my daily page.  As fast – faster than I could write, I kept a record while ordinary words spontaneously clothed themselves with the splendor of Solomon and danced around in my mind’s ballroom in elegant free-form.  These moments in life are to me, undeniable demonstrations of my purpose, reverting me to a child – with all the wonderment and newness of life therein.  Throughout those autumnal days and nights, I did not venture far from this Holistic state; nor from my home, other than to launch my frame into the density of Nature so that I might chance to find an external counterpoint for the beautiful scene within.  It was a fine period of introspection in which I became richly acquainted with my creative source, followed by a summer of harsh realities when I was forced to confront my core philosophies and to weed-out those that were in conflict with the realization of my purpose.  Since, I have established a balance between being and doing which has made it possible for me to plug-in to the aforementioned Divine flow at will – framing limitless abstractions so that they may be shared for $0.99 apiece.

Most of the selections which will appear on ‘The Golden Age’ were penned within these past two seasons of Fall.  Therefore, I am delighted by the fact that it will be released into that cool, dry air.  Methinks it will make more sense then.  At this point, however, I am finding it virtually impossible to listen to this music objectively. As a result of the mixing process, which necessitates repeated, critical listening; I have become to close to every nuance of every movement of this body of work to assume any sort of fresh perspective.  I cannot even fathom the impression that one or another might come away with upon its first listen! Many among you have expressed great anticipation for that first impression and so let me assure you – I am equally eager!  I promise in earnest that I will impart a sample just as soon as I receive the final mastered copy, which is expected to be in the second week of September.  Until then, I must reiterate that I sincerely appreciate your continued support.  I have come to greet every day with an enormous sense of Gratitude that could only be diminished by an attempt to express it in words.

Mr. H.

To step out-of-doors one would think that he had alighted-upon the vegetated surface of Mercury.  Day-by-day, he makes an attempt at exploration, but is at length forced back by solar flares into the artificially-controlled climate of his Mercurian pod.  I do enjoy communicating with you through the vast expanse of space.  There is a particular comfort in such a confirmation of Unity as an ability to exchange heart-felt sentiments through these electronic means, but nonetheless I long for those mild Earthen days!  Upon my return, its distant sun accompanied by cool, utopian breezes will point sundial and weathervane towards the epoch of a Golden Age.  It will be a welcome era, this ‘thousand years of peace and prosperity’, and cause for endless celebration. Thenabouts, I shall be pleased to traverse the surface of this lush green-and-blue ball whose ice-caps are frozen solid and whose fossil fuels are permanently sealed beneath the crust, to share that work which has received my intense focus throughout this sustained period of isolation. This body of work shall be aptly titled ‘The Golden Age’.  In visions, I ascertain that the smiling populace will greet me fervidly and receive the fruits of my labors with grace and generosity – transmitting it from one to the other like a Good virus.  I am so-far able to differentiate these visions from the combined effects of heat stroke and space dementia – through the administration of a homeopathic flower essence.  However, my experiment to grow that particular herb in this environment is rendering unfavorable results.  Still, it is my good intention to lean on faith and ingenuity to brave the intense conditions of my current sphere, until such time as I might find myself at last in the Garden of Eden.

Signing off,
Capt. Hazelwood

Good morning!  I trust you were comfortable here in my absence.  I have taken leave from the experiential realm just long enough to conjure-up something for the pleasure of your and my imaginations.  These moments are proving rare for me in these scorching days of summer, when I am vehemently propelled by the sun’s energy to conquer every Medusa along my path, lest I be turned to stone!  This is the season for doing – for transmuting those wispy spring musings into something more tangible, within the dense confines of the natural world.  The intuitive, boundless, all-knowing Right Brain has had its go at creation, satisfied that my own conscious recognition of its images was enough. Yet, if they are never brought to light are they real?  It is the old ‘tree falls in the woods’ conundrum.  No.  The methodical, organizing, actualizing Left Brain has an all-important role in the creative process.  This may sound obvious to many because we live in a Left Brain world, but it has been a great challenge for me to come to come down to Earth. Yet, I move forward in faith that there will be plenty of time for musing when the harvest has been reaped, the leaves begin to fall, and the rest of nature is settling into introspection.  As for now, I chop wood so that I might have a fire in the winter.

There is a lot of busy-work involved with releasing an album – many mundane, tedious tasks which are necessary for the success of the release.  It is testing my self discipline for sure!  I learned a lot from the Ode Hazelwood album, regarding the things that need to be in place before scheduling a release date.  Nothing could be more detrimental to my purpose than a hasty release!  I say ‘purpose’ because I don’t believe that every album release holds the same intention; and some hold very little intention at all.  In hindsight, I know this was the case with Radio Noise.  My business plan consisted of two steps:  1. Put it out there   2. Wait and see.  Since then I have formed a deeper understanding of these important truths: ‘We will never have more than we can first conceive of  – we will never rise higher than our vision’.  These philosophies, taken out of context would lead one to believe that he can sit around and dream and Poof! – his desires will be manifest. Alas, Right Action is required. Every worthwhile creation begins with a clear vision and a set of goals, and is actualized through focused initiative. I have made peace with the filing system of my Left Brain, moving into a new paradigm wherein a perfect balance between Left and Right is the goal.  In my world, this is what it means to be ‘centered’.  This is the ‘middle way’.

With forward motion,
Mister Hazelwood

Have I mentioned that I love this website?!  Somehow I have managed to use my limited knowledge of web-code to erect this virtual home with relatively little money.  Granted, I have put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it – hammering in every nail myself, but I have found great reward in this toil.  Also, it has taken a little while to get it decorated to my aesthetic, for admittedly, my personal taste has been taking a growth-spurt.  But alas, here we are sitting in my newly-furnished parlor in the sky, sipping imaginary tea and discussing lofty ideals of consequence only to you and me, as we are the dreaming sort who possesses the rare ability to grasp the intangible.  Might I note that construction is still underway – it has come to my attention that on certain browsers and/or screen resolutions, some of the elements on this page appear out of place – so please excuse the mess!  I will climb up there and make the necessary repairs when the weather cools off a bit.  In the meantime, I am delighted that this has become such a comfortable space where we might convene as to share our Good news.

There is so much going on in this big old world, yet most of what makes it into the mainstream media – while in-turn affecting the collective consciousness – is that which might invoke fear.  This is because the multitude is heavily addicted to fear.  Just like food, we need Love in order to live, and fear is as a drug which curbs our appetite.  If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ve come to enjoy the rush that we get from worry, anxiety, and panic.  In some distorted way, it makes us feel more alive.  But let me assure you that ultimately, it will only cause you to feel depleted, rob you of motivation, and leave you powerless to do anything.  Among our intrinsic qualities are wholeness, vitality, openness, and creativity.  Upon sobriety from the unnatural substances of judgment, cynicism, scarcity, and disaccord we find these Truths in place, ready to impel us into the world of our dreams.

In Truth, what we see on the ‘news’ is not an accurate depiction of what is going on in the world.  There is so much Good happening at every minute that I find it laughable that we can only conjure up a few tragedies!  So as an experiment, try this with me:  Spend a single week focusing only on the Good in your life and in the world.  Take a hiatus from mainstream media (especially Fox News, MSNBC, CNN, and other sources of sensationalism) and deny those attempts of others to guide your perceptions toward doom and gloom (without a need to change theirs).  You might very well encounter feelings of guilt for actually feeling Good!  Let them pass away natuarally, for they are withdrawl symptoms from this radical fear detox.  Then, observe the paradigm shift that will have occurred.  Your world-view will have begun to converge with the Truth, and it is only from this position that you can effectively live the life that by Nature you were meant to live.

That is all for to-day.  I now return to the many tasks involved in the release of my upcoming album!  It will be at least a month before it is completed, yet there is so much to do aside from rendering the music itself.  I will post the details of those endeavors soon! 

 
With Love,
Mr. J. Hazelwood

Dear Friend,

I write to you from the depths of a fiery Heaven. From this optimal vantage-point at my writing-desk I have a clear view of my garden where a rose-vine has inched itself fully around the trellis and has taken the liberty of igniting itself in a multitude of sanguine explosions.  There are other varieties of flora in this inferno which serve to contribute subtle flashes of azure and amber to the flickering display.  That the ornate wood-work of the trellis has not fallen to coals within my hour of its contemplation would seem a miracle, since – if perception is reality – I truly am gazing at an efflorescent manifestation of Dante’s Inferno.  Naturally, my sustained interest in this display has begun to ignite a wonder-lust within that chamber of my heart which is responsible for impelling me into action.  With objectivity, I surmise that this transcended perspective will soon be inadequate for that capricious child within me and his curiosity for detail.  Through prolonged strife I have learned not to protest these arbitrary excursions, for he will stamp his feet and threaten desertion lest he have his way.  It is a fool’s errand, I say, as we are certain to confront dualities at closer examination of this blazing botanic scene that can do no other than depreciate such a spectacular vista!  Yet, here do I stir in abating its proximity.

On my way, I am reminded of a similar occasion where, from afar, I surveyed the scene of a lush, rolling pasture.  From that abstracted perspective I was sure that I beheld the very feather-bed of God.  So comfortable and serene did it appear that I could have reclined there all day in a state of relaxed repose. But as you might suspect, this is forsooth not what occurred – as my pesky brain-child would not allow it.  For no practical reason that I can surmise, I found myself on my feet – trudging through brush and thicket for the better part of a day.  However, I did revel in this opportunity to convince the irksome lad that we had quit our own Divine pallets in pursuit of a ‘greener grass’ which by Nature would perpetually disappear like an oasis in the desert.  I must admit – discreetly, of course – howbeit, that I did find a strange physiological fulfillment in the wake of those exertions.

Alas!  I am now within range of the floral flame and am not surprised to find it extinguished.  Moreover, had I not been fully conscious en route, I might have insisted that this soft, thorny bouquet of roses is an entirely different arrangement from the one which had so vehemently alighted in the frame of my picture-window.  In fact, I believe I will take metaphysics over the testimony of my experience here, and proclaim that this very rose-bush is quite another thing!  Interestingly enough, my new perspective has given rise to a better regard for the close-up view!  I now stand intimately in the midst of a beautifully delicate display of scarlet petals which is uniquely Divine and incomparable to that which I observed earlier.  However, I will not readily admit this to Boy-Wander for he will surely have me gazing into a microscope….

Zooming in,
Mr. J.S. Hazelwood

Standing with my arms akimbo, I surveyed the grassy plot where last year’s tomato plants, corn stalks, and bean bushes protruded through the soil as though desperately breaching the surface for a gasp of air.  Surely there would be no better spot on this great estate – the soil being fertile and the sun being prevalent there throughout the length of the day – for a reestablishment of my vegetable garden.  With an eventual decisiveness which can only come through strife for the full-blooded Libra, I began to till the breadth of this twenty-square allotment, consecrating it once again as a soil-bed for the cultivation my own sustenance.

To-day, I have the sensation of sore extremities to remind me of this imposition of my will upon the crust of the Earth.  Yea, the top-soil did kindly yield to the Good nature of my purpose, but not without the friendly assertion of its newly-assumed identity as solid ground.  In process, I was reminded of my own buried philosophy that this sort of toil in cahoots with Mother Earth is her own natural anti-depressant.  As a man of clear purpose, despondency has long been absent from my experience, but I would freely admit to the upheaval of my senses from a somewhat torpid state as a direct result of this laborious communion with Nature.  I have relished those moments when thought alone has resulted in epiphany, and have often basked in the veritable euphoria of the meditative state; but nothing has consistently delivered me from delusion like the experiential recognition of my-self as One with Nature.  Do not assume, kind reader, that such a state of awareness and objectivity must-needs-be catalyzed by auxiliary substances.  No!  Even a homeopathic dose of properly administered fresh air can effectively remedy the most intractable malaise!

Magically – as the effect of a single thought – there lies a ready-ground for the embedment of all manner of indigenous vegetation, just outside my studio door.  Once again I must combat my Libran propensity for indecision and select those plants to-day whose fruit I might fervidly savor to-morrow.  Assuredly, a trip to the Farmer’s Market will present a manageable array of options for that far-off meal.  Thankfully, this is the extent of my worries.

The Earth-bound,
Mister Hazelwood

Silence?!  Alas! A vacuum has been created throughout the great chambers and corridors of this Old Manse, for it has been the scene of much hustle and bustle in the space of this week-end.  Personages from every walk of life have either congregated here, making their presence known, or passed through as a spirit in haste – I never even finding the occasion to make their acquaintance.  This evening I am once again in a physical state of solitude, yet accompanied still by the memory of the jovial presence of these sporadic comers and goers.  It is a familiar brand of moment when I have become aware that I have lost myself in the vicissitudes of life within a period of days, and am often wont to question my equanimity.  At length, however, I have decided that it is nature’s trademark that all things should occur within the range of balance and chaos.  When we familiarize ourselves with one, it is always the soul’s desire to seek-out the other.  Therefore, I judge not my own spirit’s scattered agenda for these past few days and gladly inherit the task of clean-up.

Among these unconstrained past-times was a recording project for my good compatriot Mr. James Wallace which took up the better part of the week-end’s days.  Numerous instrumentalists did pass through the porte-cochere of the Manse, for as per Mr. Wallace’s request, I had been assigned the role of co-producer, engineer, and percussionist on this project.  The object of our exertions was a piece of music that is slated for release on cassette tape by a Chinese record label.  This is an amusing prospect to me to say the least!  Mr. W and I have come to the consensus that the tape should be manufactured in gold plastic a-la The Legend of Zelda.

Friday evening, I poked my song-saturated head into the dim confines of the Family Wash to clear my musical palate with the sounds of the immensely talented songstress Ms. Jordan Caress.  She projects a beatiful heart-on-her-sleeve, mature vocal timbre which draws one in, to listen intently to her finely-crafted lyrics whether one likes it or not.  I left feeling very much inspired and down-to-Earth.

Saturday night I held a soiree on my grounds to celebrate the birthday of my lovely friend and neighbor Miss Amy Hall.  As we have relatively few mutual acquaintances, my abode was graced with the presence of many unfamiliar guests.  Bessie did revel in the opportunity to garner a bouquet of foreign scents, but I, being more civilized, found the variant personalities to be of greater interest.  In the end, however, it could be said of all present species that enjoyment was had.

Now that we are up-to-speed, I feel obligated to immerse myself in the contrast of this quiet.  Once I have meditated away the day, it is my good intention to sleep undisturbed until such time as this week-end is exalted as a beautiful memory.

Your Host,
Mister Hazelwood

Tranquility is the leitmotif of this day.  As I have positioned myself before the picture window overlooking my garden, I see the innocent white blooms of the Dogwood contrasting against the fresh green leaves of a mighty Oak.  They dance against one another in my line of sight, now and again revealing a piercing blue sky in the spaces.  It seems to me a sort of natural-world collideascope.  Concurrently, there is a song playing in my mind which is scored masterfully in sync with this serene display.  It is a selection from my upcoming album Days of the Visceral, which is now certain to be the quintessence of self-actualization.  It is what I hear when I look at the world, and the moment of its release will be a beautiful surrender.  I say this because I do not make claim to this music.  I have a clear understanding that it has not come from me but through me.  My artistic process is one of being open to receive – being a clear channel through which Divinity might flow.  Therefore, I think it not egotism to say that this song in my head is of a particular genius – by the One great Artist.  With eager anticipation I look forward to its distribution in the zeitgeist.

Mister H.

As our proposed recording sessions edge toward immediate reality, I find my self flashing back to a period exactly three years ago when spring was likewise the back-drop for the documentation of song.  It was the making of Ode Hazelwood’s Radio Noise.  The late Mrs. Hazelwood and I were living in a rustic old manse that had a particular antiquarian charm.  The reverberation in its halls was ideal for our aesthetic in those days.  Prior to those sessions I had laboured tirelessly toward converting those quarters into a working recording studio.  The control room was concealed within the close, dusky confines of the attic, where it would be indiscernible to those performers in the great room.  The resulting atmosphere was one of sequestration from the technologies of the day which I had perceived as encroaching upon our lives.  Radio Noise was reactionary in the sense that it represented a great rebellion against the homogenization of society, race-mind nonsense, and anything else which I perceived was seeking to steal away my artistic, spiritual and societal liberty.  Needless to say, I was fairly high-strung in those days – intensity being equal-to passion in my philosophy.  When I listen back to that album, I encounter vehement emotions which I have not felt since.  Therefore, in hind-sight I consider the epoch of Radio Noise to be a time of healing.

These days I do not imagine myself in resistance to anything.  I am clued-in to the quantum-choreography of life.  I have experienced the perfection and beauty which is surging through everything within the range of my perception, via some mysterious gift of heightened intuition and objectivity – higher consciousness, if you will.  It is from this perspective that I laboured upon my compositions, and from which they will be consecrated in recording.  I feel as though I have reached the summit of some sacred mountaintop to spout my discoveries along the way into the collective consciousness where they may spiral into infinity.  Yet all-the-while, I am keenly aware that even this is a stepping-stone along the way.  Three years from now I will very possibly reflect-upon this time with a wisdom that is unavailable now.  I am reminded of a decidedly inspired line in one of my own songs on Radio Noise called ‘Devils Radio’, wherein I queried “Are we behind or ahead of the times? – Only time will tell…”

The evolving,
Mr. Hazelwood