Love is huge. Love can be ugly, brutal, destructive, inconvenient, sickening. I'm bad at it. My understanding of it is facile and I know I've misunderstood and disrespected it. This album is about that-- the bad love. The collection of free improvisations for soprano saxophone is entitled "Pea Soup", a reference to the famous scene in the film "The Exorcist", when the possessed spits projectile vomit while the priest attempts to remove the demon. If you know me, you know I've been feeling Bad. Objectively. Spiritually, physically, mentally. I've been dealing with Trauma. In trying to heal from and release my negativity towards those who hurt me, and also towards myself for hurting the people I love, I've found every reason to continue my resentment, and to be unable to forgive and let go. The ties that bind me sometimes seem immovable, no matter the number of cord-cutting sessions.

The album cover for this work was going to look a lot different. My partner pointed out that this portrait of myself with green paint at the corner of my mouth, meant to look like pea soup from an exorcism, might elicit dirty jokes. My mind had managed to hide that interpretation from me, but as soon as I saw it, that was all I could see. It was upsetting and I decided to create another cover the night before the release. However, this morning I had a dream:

I was in a place that was underground with my partner, who is a jazz bassist, and we were milling around there with a number of other male jazz musicians. Neither of us knew these people. The entire dream was comprised of a suffocating feeling, as again and again the men came up to my partner with the familiar and warm high-five handshake, followed by a request to play a show or a session. Meanwhile, I am almost completely ignored, the horn on my neck unacknowledged, unseen. I felt misunderstood, shunned and also culpable. I felt frustrated because I knew I shouldn't take it personally (he plays the bass and I don't play Jazz very often anymore), but it felt personal, like a statement about how little these men thought of me. As I climbed out of this hole in the ground, this "depressed" place, one of the men confronted me, saying that I sabotaged myself with my shyness and with my propensity for putting myself and my art down into a low place. If I want to feel included, I need to play the jam sessions, make the scene, and meet the high standards of the community. I argued that I get support for my Art from patrons, friends, and various media sources, and that I shouldn't have to feel like I don't exist as a musician or as a worthwhile collaborator in his eyes or the eyes of any of those men who ignored me. I know I was arguing with myself about how I should reasonably feel in this circumstance and that I was also trying to argue that I am to blame for my feelings of isolation.

The feeling of being ostracized by a community goes beyond the realm of jazz music. Culturally, we've estranged men from women and women from men. Many films made for adults that come out of Hollywood are built on stories about dramatic romance between men and women. More often than not, infidelity is present too. How can I truly escape this limited scope of perception? Best case scenario, I learn to ignore it and strive for a higher and more equal way of seeing and treating people of different gender identities. Worst case scenario, I continue to be sequestered, limiting myself and others with my assumptions, living a life that reflects every Hollywood parable, ignoring the deeper experiences of learning about our shared humanity, enjoying platonic friendships, and finding out what it's like to enjoy life on Earth.

Jazz and Art issues aside, lets talk about the Heyoka for a second. Physical empathy has been on the forefront of my mind since 2017. My energy has been drastically altered by the idea, not to mention the experiences involved in possibly being like one or having been involved with one. Nobody wants to believe it, least of all myself. Moral complexity around the issues of dark empathy, narcissism, co-dependence, energy vampires, qi thievery, dharma bums, karma captors, body snatchers, and soul stealers have plagued my peace and disturbed feelings of contentment. At the possible center of much of the drama, the CN X, or vagus nerve. Thanks to how we use our phones and computers (and musical instruments), the condition might be creating a permanent change to our expectations for wellness and our energy levels. Let's not ignore what we might be seeing in our own mirrors or how we are feeling in our own bodies. Ownership. Does privilege and karma affect what we see and feel? How do our attachments impact the reality of our spiritual/energy bodies? Is unconditional love the cure or a death sentence?

These relentless streams of wondering have been overwhelming and for years, more often than not, I felt eternal sleep seemed preferable. As fortune (or karma) would have it, my partner, my friends, and my family are miracle workers. They listen and know how to be supportive while giving space. The music here is a documentation of finally being able to sublimate the rage and endless questioning, turning it into work that expresses how I actually feel right now. Through these performances I was able to purge and begin the process of radical acceptance, even of things that seem impossible to accept. Love is always the answer (that, and the stimulation of the vagus nerve). Thank you for that lesson, friends.

The world is changing quickly, and we try to keep our souls Good, though the fear and the pain drain us. We grasp for answers, and the past does not fade as it did before. Our understanding of what life was and what it is are systemically in flux, and so our spirits must be flexible too. What is true for me may not be true for you, and that is a beautiful thing. We know so much and so little (thanks to a combination of Google and insufficient healthcare). I wish all of you the best of luck in figuring out your story.