Walking, in many ways, is no different from singing. Leaving the house and finding the way outdoors captures the same external excitement that singing unleashes on the singer.
When I find myself in full wayfinding, free-roaming mode, nothing brings a little bit of tech color into the scene like a good song.
This article was first published in Renaissance and Ecologists Magazine. understand more.
Best of all, a folk song, a people as old as those who first set foot on the land, that sends its protagonist and those who take part in the recitation a hopeful, helpless, heroic but always from Inner journey.
transmission
Folk song is a navigation. Trust me – I’m a folk singer and whenever I walk, the song is with me.
Folk songs emerge from the landscape, not just a beautiful depiction of the landscape. They are the transmission of an age when the tentacles of our ancestors paid attention to nature’s broad frequencies of gentle changes and nuances.
But in modern times, “nature experiences” are big business, especially for a society struggling to overcome generations of disenfranchisement and separation from our natural heritage. Folk music is like a swiss army knife for me, bringing back that wild feeling.
nightingale
I find myself experimenting with this bizarre practice, and not just alone. Over the years, greatly inspired by these Covid times, I have been leading pilgrimages and nature walks with the ambition to bring folk songs back into the niche.
As the seasons develop and species come, blossom, become famous, mate, grow, bear fruit, and fade, the special song of keeping wisdom in these natural passage ceremonies rings in my heart, a call to be sung, shared, and most importantly , triggered before others have been sung.
Birds are a key player in the repatriation of this song. In April and May, I take my visitors on singing walks with the nightingales, where guests retire from the fireside and walk in the dark in search of the greatest of them all, the male nightingale.
powerful
Since these birds are a rapidly declining species expected to be extinct in this country within 40 years, singing the centuries-old song of nightingale worship feels like a complete privilege.
Not only that, but this is a provocative act of palliative reconciliation against our totally complicit creatures.
In return, we put a powerful treatment on our ecologically loaded shoulders. On another journey, a similar recovery action was carried out through songs and passages, Turtledove pilgrimage, Co-authored with pilgrim revivalist Will Parsons.
