“Pearl Divers”
In July 2023, I quit as the Editor of Tuonela Magazine.
It was probably a long-time coming; my dream was never to be in music media management or journalism and the time I was spending on that was really taking away from all of the things I wanted to do. However, I was not expecting to have a strange breakdown after I made the call… I was very emotional afterwards, in a state that my friend Kathy Criswell referred to very cleverly as “grelief.”
Now, speaking of Kathy, let’s rewind a little bit here. I met Kathy sometime in 2023—I can’t recall when—but I had posted an open invite to join a “Sad Artist’s Discord” that I had made and she took me up on the offer. At first I was a bit shocked… I had rather naively made the Discord thinking that only people I knew would join it, but it seems not that many people I know are active Discord users. So here I was, faced with someone that I didn’t know, wondering if they could join a personal, private place of mine. Well, I’m not one to back down just because I don’t know a person, so I figured that I’d take a chance and see what happens.
Long story short, I now consider Kathy to be a very dear friend. For one, she might be the only person in the world who became a “fan” of me because of my journalism. As someone who naïvely hoped that journalism would build me a following (it didn’t), you have no idea how much I appreciate anyone who likes me for anything I’ve done. Furthermore, Kathy is simply one of the best people I know these days. She’s the world’s greatest fan of anything she’s a fan of, she’s deeply kind-hearted and respectful of other people’s time and personal space, and she’s got the most beautiful creative mind and soul. If you don’t know her, go follow her on Instagram—@stardatextoday—and check out her guest blogs from her trip to Finland over in my Personal Musings! I’ve also written a bit about that trip myself.
So, sitting in the sauna, dehydrating myself by crying my grelief out a bit while listening to Auri’s second album, we got to “Pearl Diving” and I felt something bubbling up inside of me. Something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. It was inspiration, and more specifically, it was the inspiration to write something. This bubble of inspiration was formed by both the song and the happiness I felt from making such an incredible, supportive new friend, so I more or less hopped out of the sauna and went straight to my computer.
This is what came out: a short piece about friendship, and I hope you enjoy it.
“PEARL DIVERS”
I must confess that I was scared when you asked me if I’d like to go pearl diving with you.
Those waters that act as keepers of those time-forged treasures have always enticed me more than they’ve scared me away, as the mysteries tucked away inside the wisping kelp and dancing grasses were too tempting to hide from, despite inherent dangers.
Yet I have been long-drowning, lost without navigation, choking on directions that have led me astray of the surface and serene shores of solitude. Those who have extended the same hand before have not known the truth of the depths. They strayed, for greed, for fear, for uncertainty, and one cannot descend without a second soul holding close the same desire. So often have I breached alone, burning from inside as the waters overtake and consume, eating consciousness and sanity until they can feast no more.
But still the waters call, endless sirens never made form, pulling the sea from my lungs each time I wash ashore and calling, temping me back with sweeter and sweeter promises. Your hand extended, I hesitated with uncertainty before I took that first deep breath, grasped hold, and dove in, right by your side.
Your confidence boldly shows that you do not let the fear of drowning hold you back, despite the many times you too have breathed in the salty deep. I recognize the tremor, the hesitation, yet the greatest treasures can only be held when the greatest of risks are overcome. Though it has never been spoken between us, it is known.
As we hold our breaths and drift below the waves, the darkness envelops without oppressing, allowing us our own secrets, keeping us as hidden and safe as any of the monsters that may surround us. Perhaps it is they who should fear us, after all. They know not what we can do, when a we we are.
The endless shells, each with their own song and story, whisper below, asking us if we can believe. The pearls are kept in the most secret places, where only those bold enough of heart and strong of breath can reach, and they cannot be found alone.
As easily as in the air, our breath trades and our spirits flow as we disperse into the space, a part of the waters and one another, but we do not sputter or flail. We exist in the stories and space and flow between the cracks and coves into the cover of the undercoast, with secret smiles on our faces, as the truths are told, sweet pearls of love that join us in our kelp-woven dance.
Our laughter echoes in waves around us as we return to our worldly forms, still swirling with opalescence from what we have found. The wisdom of our journey is endless and indestructible, so long as we both live.
So I must thank you, for the hand that reached and the heart that longed and the spirit that soared and the soul that you shared. These pearls of ours are more brilliant than stars, lasting as long as breath fuels their tales.
