Love Letter

Dear Autumn:

When I first met you a few years ago, I was truly in love with you, but our honeymoon came to an abrupt end when I experienced your inconsistent ways. There are still so many things that I admire about you, but the reality is that the infatuation stage died with the short-lived relationship that I had with your hot-tempered and sassy sister, Summer. These days, I argue at you every time I feel your embrace, and I’m sick of this type of affair.

I was actually just thinking of you, and the aesthetic qualities that you would want me to attribute to your season- the sadness of fall. One of my friends is now on his way driving to Maine from Boston (you have clearly wooed him into your web); while many others had driven earlier through Connecticut on their way to Vermont- just to see the vibrant pastures, forests and paddocks that take their last bow in their admirable rendition of the “Rainbow Impersonation” before they are put to sleep by you and your cruel sister, Winter.

Autumn, you are a concept that I will never understand. So many people around me celebrate the beauty of your trees’ fiercely blazing leaves; while I can only be anxious about the loud warning of your sister’s imminent cold ahead, and the painful reminder of the humidity and heat of Summer- an issue that we’ve not quite gotten over yet. The spontaneity of your enigma always leaves me at two extremes (hot and cold) without warning. And the foreboding callousness of your younger sister, Winter, leaves me feeling sad, cold, trapped and drained (emotionally and physically). I sometimes feel as if it’s the conspiracy of you and your siblings against me for an offence I’m sure I didn’t commit.

I can't seem to find that solace in our relationship, or appreciation for you when I know your sisters keep intruding in our soirée (as nuanced as it is). During your annual four-month reign, all the leaves seem to celebrate life with their vivacious colours, but only as a last rite passage. Despite this seeming bravery on these trees' part, I see it more as, "why fight when you're destined to a sardonic fate?" They never experience winter, because they cower in fear, hibernate, hide from it, or just be as weak as I have been in maintaining fearful reverence for this bitter greyness that your sister puts over me.

Anyway, Autumn, I really hope you enjoy your day, and all the beauty that you will create in your artistic, but deceptive monet. The truth is, your leaves are beautiful, but the features and customs surrounding your temporal splendour make you seem more like a consistent, crude and inconsiderate beast- especially when you or your younger sister adds the misery of snow- a severe beauty with a painful venom.

I’m sorry, Autumn, but we have to take a break from each other until I can better appreciate you, and the erratic nature of your family. Adieu!

Your Jamaican Guy

PS: As for the clearing of all these foliage, don't even think of calling me, because I'm tired of clearing your mess. And as for the snow, have your sister shovel it herself! I need my space and time to rest!

My Soul, Your Eyes: A Message to the Jamaican Youth (particularly to those who emigrate): Why You were born to be different.

My Soul, Your Eyes: A Message to the Jamaican Youth (particularly to those who emigrate): Why You were born to be different.: "Some of us were born to maintain stability: born to uphold the status quo, work hard and get ahead. Some of us were born not to ask too many questions, disturb the apple cart, divert others, cause problems, get into problems, knock the system, stand apart, explore the fearsome unknown, fall too far from the tree, leave our country, risk life and limb, go off to discover an identity, be battered and bruised, be rejected, be too different. Some of us were born simply to cohere. Some of us were born to be proud, unquestioning Jamaicans.

Others of us were not meant for this path. They were born to challenge everything, question everything, want to know, need to know, gain everything, lose everything, be rejected, be dejected, be depressed, be at a loss, be lost, go explore, fight the system, improve the system, create a new system, stand alone, be alone, go somewhere and find an identity, get destroyed, leave our country, return and change our country. This message is for all, but it is to this second group to which I would particularly like to appeal.

My father once told me: sometimes we have to light a fire to change things. He told me this as I was learning what it is to be a man, and I will never forget these words. Before I even began to think about where life would take me, it seems my father already knew. Because, like my father, I belonged to this second group, and was born to stand apart, to suffer alone, and to challenge things. He knew life would be rough; he said it, I thought it cliché. But he knew that in this life, nothing ventured is nothing gained. He knew that life could yield the most bountiful harvests and bestow the most lavish gifts, but he also knew that there would be times that by virtue of one’s very nature, unendurable pain would have to suffered.

I’m not one to preach. Far be it from me to tell what life should or will be like. I can only relate experiences. I am young, but I have tirelessly sought experience. And I have found it. I have prospered, and I have ventured, and I have been battered, and I have been sent back home. I have been blessed. I have been seen through situations solely by idealism, confidence, and what my mother calls ‘a mother’s prayer’. I have also found myself mired on life’s rocky shores among other broken vessels like myself. I have risen to take my place, but I am yet to board the sweet chariot that will take me home to the golden shores awaiting those among us who will dare to take the road less travelled.

Life has brought me to a point – I have been hardened and sharpened; I have been filed and fashioned into a blade. I have become a razor’s edge. I now look for something to cut. The path I travel is yet again a different one; I must find a new way. And I wait…

Yet you, you are different. You, to whom those before you must now defer, will rise and take their place. You do not yet know the jewels you carry within your breasts; the gems that are your minds; the miracle-workers that are your hands; or the sword and shield that are your unyielding attitudes. You have often been ridiculed, ridiculed others, excelled, been lonely, felt different… foreign. You have not much been taught by those who understand you, by those to whom you can relate. You have been pressured, criticised, ostracised, and left wanting. You hunger in a way that few others seem to understand, and you need as few others do. You have wondered why not conformity? Why not quiet, controlled ascent to this world’s common comforts. Why you?

Let me be the first to tell you: welcome. You are not alone, you never have been, and henceforth, will feel so no longer. Those who came before you have waited, patiently and knowingly in the quiet, waited for you to come of age… waited to explain to you, nurture you and teach you. Those before you well understand the meaning of difference. Not all are willing to support you, not overtly, but all stand, willing or unwillingly, beside you. Those like you, who could not help but dwell apart, now stand and watch, mesmerised by the beauty and strength you possess. They too have felt the yearnings for more, have tasted the fruits of their own labours, and relished the glories of their own victories. But they have known hurt, pain. Some utilise it, and continue along the path; some cannot bear it, and lay beaten with former glories in tow. All now look to you, with the pride of a father and the love of a mother, and know why you are special. They silently cheer for you, quietly encourage you, and wait patiently to help carry you over. They, in their quiet way, heap their hopes and their dreams, aspirations and fears, unto you… and they love you. It is these gifts and burdens you bear, these feelings that pressure you. And it will be these things that drive you.

I am not far before you, but I would like to give to you this message. I have but few words, and fewer experiences… yet I would like to speak to you as some of you have never been spoken to before. I would like to leave with you these few words that will hopefully help you along your path, as I follow mine. Before slipping into the shadow ranks of those who were once like you, and those would see you take your places as kings and queens in this world, I would just like to say:

Remember, first and foremost, you are never alone. Though you may not always see your help, it is always there when you need it most.

You are not the first, and you will not be the last. You are destined for greatness, yes, but so are others. Wait your turn, settle for nothing less than you desire, and you will be rewarded. Rob another of his chance and forever live in fear, knowing you have forfeited your own birthright.

Remain confident, not arrogant. Be proud, not haughty. Challenge everything, but accept that which you cannot change. Be sceptical, not cynical. Live hard, die well. Remember clichés became so for a reason. Know that amazing lies inside you, regardless of what you think; believe in it, and there will nothing stopping you but yourself.

Love passionately. Know that while fairytales are beautiful thoughts, they remain stories for a reason. Give yourself wholeheartedly to whomever you love, but bear in mind love is compromise. Think of people as puzzle pieces – each has his excess and recess. It hurts when the pieces to the puzzle don’t fit, but the right piece will help you see the big picture.

Dream boundlessly. You are so great a force that the only thing stopping you is you. Disregard naysayers and those who would mock your dreams. Imagination is a tool; use it. Nothing ventured is nothing gained, and those who dream the biggest are rewarded greatest when it all comes to fruition.

Live without regrets. Every experience, good or bad, will inform how you proceed tomorrow. You alone know how much you can bear. You alone are responsible for your actions. Do nothing that will compromise who you are fundamentally, and you will be able to look at yourself in the mirror without pangs of remorse or disgust. Learn from everything, waste no time thinking on what could or should have been, only what you will enact into being. Regrets only weigh you down, learning helps you soar.

Be your best ALWAYS. When you are content with who you are, nothing can disturb your peace of mind. There will be better, and there will be worse than you. The only way to find equilibrium is to be your best for yourself. You will fail at times, you will at times stray. It is in your nature to question and experiment. Sometimes you will reach a positive outcome, other times you will not. Only you can put yourself back together when it all falls apart. It will be hard, but stay focused and you will find a way. Finally, I will not lie to you – you will plan well, but when things go awry, as they invariably will, you will hurt. But bear in mind pain is inversive – it helps you to know that bliss must be on the other side. Learn from it, grow, and one day when you have gained the world, remember from where you started. Then you will take your place among those who have come before you."

My Soul, Your Eyes: Like I need a needle in my arm...

My Soul, Your Eyes: Like I need a needle in my arm...: "As a man of eclectic artistic taste, particularly as regards my music, I can safely assert never having been able to stay focused on any particular genre for more than a few weeks or months. Under-stimulated and over-curious, I find myself constantly searching not for the next big thing, or even for any specific thing, but for powerful and moving art generally. When it comes to my music, I seek words and sounds that resonate; I seek music that doesn’t just touch the ears or mind, but that penetrates to the soul and leaves an impression. Needless to say, 'moving' doesn’t take just one form, and profundity can be found in a myriad of places. However, the unfortunate thing about my particular inclination is that art, even the most sublime sights and sounds, can only resonate so much before being dulled by the passage of time – this is why I can never have a favourite genre or any one genre to which I consistently listen. The message invariably loses power, the sound becomes repetitive, I grow accustomed and unappreciative, and I forget the feeling I experienced when I first heard the piece.

But now I can safely say I’ve found something different, something that breaks that cycle and that has devilishly left me fiending for more. The reason: what I’ve termed ‘genre-dub’ (so called, because while the genre may change – reggae, jazz, rock, the Jamaican dub element is fundamental and pervasive). Perhaps because I’m Jamaican, and intelligent local music that whispers directly in my ear has been rare; perhaps because the sounds and messages of genre-dub are distinct from the majority of music being broadcast today; perhaps because of some teenage fascination with the music that I developed and never quite outgrew… perhaps because of nothing articulable at all, I have been recently and thoroughly captivated by the sounds of genre-dub. In essence, the music has hit and I’ve felt no pain, save for when the record stops spinning and the needle is lifted from my arm.

Though neither a new genre, nor one to which I am a stranger (I’ve been captivated by Protoje’s lyrical witticism, Cezar’s inspirational messages and Tessanne Chin’s powerful vocals, all with uniquely Jamaican sounds, for years), the recent proliferation in mainstream media of the infectious neo-genre that is genre-dub, and its subsequently heightened availability, has left me feeling like a child at Christmas. I eagerly sample from this smorgasbord, chasing musical high after musical high, with the vague understanding that tomorrow looms on the horizon, but hoping the treats I acquire today will serve for a long time to come.

Thus, in spite of what anyone else may say or feel, and regardless of how long or how well genre-dub thrives, at least for me, genre-dub has been and will remain one of the most powerful and endearing forms of art I have yet witnessed. So to the artistes I’ve been bringing from back in the day – Protoje, Cezar, Tessanne Chin – and to the artistes by whom I’ve recently been impressed and captivated – EvaFlow, Jah9, Jason Worton – let the musical lion paw gwaan crawb up di ting. ‘J.A.’ needs to ‘KEEP ON’ having an ‘INFLOW’ (and outpouring) of ‘MESSENGER’s to issue ‘WARNING’s and wake-up calls to the mundane, complacent and inane. To these artistes and others, keep making that good… great, music!

“In the question of creation, you are greater than the noun. Be the verb, the action word that put the power to the soun’, ‘Cause you could burn dis to di groun’…” – Jah9 

“J.A…. Tell dem seh no matter what a talk, an’ no matter what a spark, yow a ya suh a mi heart” - Protoje"

My Soul, Your Eyes: The Genius of Art

My Soul, Your Eyes: The Genius of Art: "The genius of art is not in conceiving a novel concept, formulating a bold idea or conceptualizing an innovative theory, it is projecting the images from the mind's eye into the world; artistic brilliance is lifting the images of the mental canvas and supplanting them into the realm of other men, breathing life into what was already known, but waiting to be acknowledged."