Sometimes I write songs whose meanings are clear to me from the onset, clear as day. Other times I start out with a line or two of lyrics, or a melody, and just go where it takes me. When I take this latter approach, I often end up with a song I’m quite happy with, but whose meaning doesn’t reveal itself to me until much later.
This happens more often than you might imagine, or at least more often than I thought before I started writing regularly. I mention this because one such song born out of this approach is a song I wrote around this time last year, called Rose In Winter. The chorus has the following two lines…
A rose in winter, wrinkled and withered, will bloom again. A rose in winter, wrinkled and withered, will thrive again.
I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going with it when I wrote those lines, all I remember is that I went with how I was feeling at the time. And at the time, we were just coming out of a long winter, not unlike now. At the time, we’d seen glimpses of spring but had then been threatened with the prospects of another winter spell, again, not unlike now.
A few weeks after I wrote the song, I played it at a gig where my partner and her sister were in attendance. Afterwards, her sister told me what she took away from the song. To her, the song was about resilience and dealing with change. It hadn’t occurred to me before she said those words, but her interpretation was what it took for me to realise that’s where I was going all along, even if I hadn’t set out on that road with the intention, to begin with.
There’s the old expression that change is the only constant thing in life. It is also a truism, that life is all about seasons, literally, as in meteorologically, and figuratively, as in more ways than one. From the meteorological standpoint, we go through winter, spring, summer and autumn every year, at least for those who live far enough from the equator to experience four seasons rather than the two – wet and dry – seasons. Other facets of life are subject to seasonal cycles as well, and germane to this post, one such facet is creativity.
I find that there’s a productive season, when I’m full to the brim with creative ideas and they’re just gushing out of me left, right and centre. However, there’s also another season, where things are far less productive. Some writers and artists know this as the hibernating season, the dormant season, or the languishing season.
If I had my way, I’d lead a life of never-ending productive seasons with no languishing, dormancy or hibernation, but we don’t always get what we want. It has taken me a while to come to terms with this, and it is a daily struggle. I’m slowly coming around to the mindset of embracing all seasons and hanging on to the good things they bring. Productive seasons are great for obvious reasons, but even dormant or hibernating seasons provide ample opportunity for some much-needed rest and recuperation. I’ve learnt from experience that I’m most productive after restful spells, but I wish that’s all it takes for me to embrace the hibernating season when it comes around. I still find myself eschewing downtime and longing for productive spells, but I’m a work in progress, and I’m slowly (but surely, hopefully) getting there.
PS: Just a reminder that my latest record, One More Time is out now, everywhere. You can listen to it on several platforms. Please share it with a friend, share it with your social networks, and consider subscribing to the newsletter (below), my YouTube channel, or wherever else you listen to music.