Human suffering on an immense scale has been an inseparable part of how we got here. It's not new, but still impacts us so strongly that seeing people in pain or learning about possible future issues can numb us into paralysis ("there's nothing I can do", "let me think about something else") or provoke us into finding solutions ("what can I do?", "how do I make a difference?").

I went through a short period considering myself an activist when I was helping organize events and student initiatives to raise awareness about various issues: this was a time when I shared news and political outrage on social media, using whatever platform I had to publicly call out hypocrisy in anger, often shouting into the void; saying it this way is not meant to demean anyone who does similar-seeming things, but a way to acknowledge my own misalignment of intentions as I operated under confusion without realizing—I thought that's what my response needed to be.

With a greater understanding of how power works and propagates itself, I now focus on things that bring me satisfaction. Dealing with root causes rather than symptoms is harder because it's invisible and not a job for one person, or even a group of people: it really requires humanity overall to be more cooperative. So every time I feel the real and consequential urgency of moral injury, and find myself thrown into deciphering a problem larger than myself while I brush my teeth anxiously or lie in bed unable to sleep, I try to remember that my individualized frenzy is misplaced: it's not just me that will solve this—it's the whole planet working together. How can this be accomplished? Is it even possible? Or a good idea? I don't have all the answers but trust in figuring that out collectively, and rather than joining a group or starting one, I've chosen to create bridges between them.

Part of bringing people together involves being inclusive and seeing diverse forms of contribution as useful and necessary: what's needed isn't always visible, vocal, and popular forms of 'activism', or what is considered as such either by 'activists' or the people who claim to disdain them. Everything is politics. I like how this analogy of the spear describes a spectrum of contributions coming together:

• Direct action is the tiniest tip of a spear's blade: sharp and vital for making a mark, but not powerful on its own.
• The metal part between tip and handle represents organizing around that, showing up, and substantiating the above with food, calls, gatherings, emotional support, bail, paperwork, etc…: everything here enables the tip to have some kind of impact and is often considered activism, but the result is very acute (and seen as fringe) without further support from a larger populace.
• Supporters of a movement inhabit the much longer portion of a spear's handle, and represents a diversity of perspectives, some of which may not feel satisfactory to the metal and tip; it doesn't get as much attention as the other parts even though it's what creates leverage and forward movement for deep impact. At the very end of the handle you might find people who show up to take a selfie and leave: this is considered 'merely performative' by some but is also important for bringing ideas out of the fringe and into normal discussion, shifting thought.

To find my own place within this sphere, I avoid doing things that make me feel replaceable, where the result would be comparable if someone else was in my place, and prefer activities where the outcome drastically changes because I'm there. This leads me to spend most of my time on personal projects, which often provokes a comparison about whether I'm doing 'enough' or 'my part' in times of crisis, probably because it's not how most people get to spend their days. Yet, every time I question myself, the deliberations lead me circling back to the same place: my projects will likely not save a life or end that bad problem over there, but without hesitation I feel and understand my actions to be completely holistic.

How do conversations on Strolling help? After a period of global political unrest and binary views on how things should be, I observed divisions everywhere, and saw myself as part of the problem that divided communities into red and blue. Dissatisfied that greater powers continue to flourish and profit as we squabble over our teams and rip apart the world's social fabric with our own hands, I recognized that dialogue is critical to overcoming conflict and disagreement, and have I've tried to repair what I can by learning to disagree productively, fostering discussion, being a bridge, reconnecting, calling in, reaching out. Strolling tries to honour dialogue and what is possible through merely conversing, and perhaps also expose people to ideas they wouldn't come across anywhere else or be open to; I've been in a bubble so far recording mostly with people who share adjacent perspectives, but on occasions where I disagree, I practice being conducive instead of reactionary.

How do apps help? Technology underpins everything today, and its companies with massive resources would rather profit from transforming us into consumers of their addictive platform fodder than help us cultivate greater agency. I don't believe technology will or can solve all our problems, but if we want a different future, it must involve changing our technology. I participate here because I have specific skills and feel it's under-addressed, as: 1. most of the world does not have the space to develop technical expertise to infiltrate the castles of confusion erected by programmers; and 2. most of those who do have expertise see it as a job or fun hobby without attempting to change why it works the way it does; without criticism towards either, I believe this is the reality and it's not sufficient. My involvement has always tried to help close this gap by documenting for beginners, or decentering the English language in app development (maximum localization), or incorporating non-techie friends into the world of alternative technology. I've also written about agency, separation of data from apps, interoperability, and antipatterns, often with accessible language and minimal jargon, to help more people realize what could be possible.

How does music on Vibrations help? It's my formation and one place where I might hold a deeper credibility. I publish music mostly for myself as a way to recover from the narrow-minded upbringings of my training, and send a message about how different the concept of music could be. People seem to enjoy what I share, and that has taught me to care less about being considered 'professional' (a former pain point) and more about doing meaningful things. I consider music one of the deepest, most underrated forms of social change, and it's completely invisible to most people; I might write later about how [[music is not what's on your streaming platform]]. Daryl Davis talks about reflexes as a musician to 'create harmony' as he reformed over 200 KKK members, and although he mentions it in passing as if light spiritual humour, I think music manifests a capacity to create synergy, and on a practical level help coordinate multiple things in parallel.

In summary: I have some skills, see where it could make a difference, and try to enjoy the process; this may lead to discomfort or financial instability if it's not seen as useful by the institutions of society, but I've learned to harden myself against comparisons and counterproductive thoughts as long as I believe in what I'm doing. The range of 'music, technology, and conversations' might seem disparate and perhaps selfish, but I see it all as complementary and emancipatory: there's no question to me that it's holistic, which fills me with confidence to go forward 100% even as the dumpster fire burns higher.

I'm also proud to have received feedback that my presence had an unlocking and enabling effect on some people, without trying to persuade them to do things the way I do; I believe changing something about your life merely by feeling inspired is actually quite powerful and was my catalyst for many initiatives and habits.

When you think 'nothing I do matters' consider this: in all those stories of time travel, you step out of your time machine into a moment of the past, maybe feeling uneasy about touching anything or making even the slightest change to your surrounding environment, out of fear that any difference would create a cascading effect with unforeseeable consequences as time progresses with the result of your actions; now bring yourself back to the present and realize that the same power is held by each of us, right now. So… What would you like to do today?

---

Thanks to Heddi for encouraging me to put in words here something that I've often said to myself and others, but never considered writing.

Human suffering on an immense scale has been an inseparable part of how we got here. It's not new, but still impacts us so strongly that seeing people in pain or learning about possible future issues can numb us into paralysis ("there's nothing I can do", "let me think about something else") or provoke us into finding solutions ("what can I do?", "how do I make a difference?").

I went through a short period considering myself an activist when I was helping organize events and student initiatives to raise awareness about various issues: this was a time when I shared news and political outrage on social media, using whatever platform I had to publicly call out hypocrisy in anger, often shouting into the void; saying it this way is not meant to demean anyone who does similar-seeming things, but a way to acknowledge my own misalignment of intentions as I operated under confusion without realizing—I thought that's what my response needed to be.

With a greater understanding of how power works and propagates itself, I now focus on things that bring me satisfaction. Dealing with root causes rather than symptoms is harder because it's invisible and not a job for one person, or even a group of people: it really requires humanity overall to be more cooperative. So every time I feel the real and consequential urgency of moral injury, and find myself thrown into deciphering a problem larger than myself while I brush my teeth anxiously or lie in bed unable to sleep, I try to remember that my individualized frenzy is misplaced: it's not just me that will solve this—it's the whole planet working together. How can this be accomplished? Is it even possible? Or a good idea? I don't have all the answers but trust in figuring that out collectively, and rather than joining a group or starting one, I've chosen to create bridges between them.

Part of bringing people together involves being inclusive and seeing diverse forms of contribution as useful and necessary: what's needed isn't always visible, vocal, and popular forms of 'activism', or what is considered as such either by 'activists' or the people who claim to disdain them. Everything is politics. I like how this analogy of the spear describes a spectrum of contributions coming together:

• Direct action is the tiniest tip of a spear's blade: sharp and vital for making a mark, but not powerful on its own.
• The metal part between tip and handle represents organizing around that, showing up, and substantiating the above with food, calls, gatherings, emotional support, bail, paperwork, etc…: everything here enables the tip to have some kind of impact and is often considered activism, but the result is very acute (and seen as fringe) without further support from a larger populace.
• Supporters of a movement inhabit the much longer portion of a spear's handle, and represents a diversity of perspectives, some of which may not feel satisfactory to the metal and tip; it doesn't get as much attention as the other parts even though it's what creates leverage and forward movement for deep impact. At the very end of the handle you might find people who show up to take a selfie and leave: this is considered 'merely performative' by some but is also important for bringing ideas out of the fringe and into normal discussion, shifting thought.

To find my own place within this sphere, I avoid doing things that make me feel replaceable, where the result would be comparable if someone else was in my place, and prefer activities where the outcome drastically changes because I'm there. This leads me to spend most of my time on personal projects, which often provokes a comparison about whether I'm doing 'enough' or 'my part' in times of crisis, probably because it's not how most people get to spend their days. Yet, every time I question myself, the deliberations lead me circling back to the same place: my projects will likely not save a life or end that bad problem over there, but without hesitation I feel and understand my actions to be completely holistic.

How do conversations on Strolling help? After a period of global political unrest and binary views on how things should be, I observed divisions everywhere, and saw myself as part of the problem that divided communities into red and blue. Dissatisfied that greater powers continue to flourish and profit as we squabble over our teams and rip apart the world's social fabric with our own hands, I recognized that dialogue is critical to overcoming conflict and disagreement, and have I've tried to repair what I can by learning to disagree productively, fostering discussion, being a bridge, reconnecting, calling in, reaching out. Strolling tries to honour dialogue and what is possible through merely conversing, and perhaps also expose people to ideas they wouldn't come across anywhere else or be open to; I've been in a bubble so far recording mostly with people who share adjacent perspectives, but on occasions where I disagree, I practice being conducive instead of reactionary.

How do apps help? Technology underpins everything today, and its companies with massive resources would rather profit from transforming us into consumers of their addictive platform fodder than help us cultivate greater agency. I don't believe technology will or can solve all our problems, but if we want a different future, it must involve changing our technology. I participate here because I have specific skills and feel it's under-addressed, as: 1. most of the world does not have the space to develop technical expertise to infiltrate the castles of confusion erected by programmers; and 2. most of those who do have expertise see it as a job or fun hobby without attempting to change why it works the way it does; without criticism towards either, I believe this is the reality and it's not sufficient. My involvement has always tried to help close this gap by documenting for beginners, or decentering the English language in app development (maximum localization), or incorporating non-techie friends into the world of alternative technology. I've also written about agency, separation of data from apps, interoperability, and antipatterns, often with accessible language and minimal jargon, to help more people realize what could be possible.

How does music on Vibrations help? It's my formation and one place where I might hold a deeper credibility. I publish music mostly for myself as a way to recover from the narrow-minded upbringings of my training, and send a message about how different the concept of music could be. People seem to enjoy what I share, and that has taught me to care less about being considered 'professional' (a former pain point) and more about doing meaningful things. I consider music one of the deepest, most underrated forms of social change, and it's completely invisible to most people; I might write later about how [[music is not what's on your streaming platform]]. Daryl Davis talks about reflexes as a musician to 'create harmony' as he reformed over 200 KKK members, and although he mentions it in passing as if light spiritual humour, I think music manifests a capacity to create synergy, and on a practical level help coordinate multiple things in parallel.

In summary: I have some skills, see where it could make a difference, and try to enjoy the process; this may lead to discomfort or financial instability if it's not seen as useful by the institutions of society, but I've learned to harden myself against comparisons and counterproductive thoughts as long as I believe in what I'm doing. The range of 'music, technology, and conversations' might seem disparate and perhaps selfish, but I see it all as complementary and emancipatory: there's no question to me that it's holistic, which fills me with confidence to go forward 100% even as the dumpster fire burns higher.

I'm also proud to have received feedback that my presence had an unlocking and enabling effect on some people, without trying to persuade them to do things the way I do; I believe changing something about your life merely by feeling inspired is actually quite powerful and was my catalyst for many initiatives and habits.

When you think 'nothing I do matters' consider this: in all those stories of time travel, you step out of your time machine into a moment of the past, maybe feeling uneasy about touching anything or making even the slightest change to your surrounding environment, out of fear that any difference would create a cascading effect with unforeseeable consequences as time progresses with the result of your actions; now bring yourself back to the present and realize that the same power is held by each of us, right now. So… What would you like to do today?

---

Thanks to Heddi for encouraging me to put in words here something that I've often said to myself and others, but never considered writing.

I'm not in the habit of documenting trips, especially sharing travel photos; I even used to avoid using my phone camera for some time, with an idea of 'being present instead'. Happy to see things differently now, but I notice that I take photos—capture, capture, capture—never re-visiting them much, even though it's often valuable for me to do that. This trip was special to me, so I would like to revisit what happened and create a nicely encapsulated memory for myself. I would like to generally share more about how I travel, as it's different from the way I usually see it happen and might even be interesting to some people. Perhaps this blog medium can break the 'photo album or stream' concept to share different kinds of things in context.

---

October 2023 was a busy month. I changed cities every couple days, knowing that I actually dislike travelling with that frequency, preferring instead to spend longer periods in places to go deeper. I explained my trip quite often as "I'm not here to see or do anything but rather to connect with my people", and it was a mindset that made bearable the hectic schedules and planning of bouncing around that much; 'attractions' visited can be counted on less than one hand, but there was an immeasurable quantity of diverse lenses into ordinary and everyday local life. With just my cabin-sized backpack weighing seven to nine kilograms, I was quite focused on going only where I felt called, connected, or welcome; this filled my experience with a sense of purpose, sometimes in completely unexpected ways.

2023.09.30 Winnipeg

My USA trip began in Canada with a visit to my cousin, who loves plants and lives in a small town near Winnipeg.

Then I headed south. I've had some anxiety about getting grilled at borders if I or my plans might seem strange, but I felt completely chill about showing up at pre-clearance without a return ticket. The agent actually seemed impressed with me 'not having a home address since 2019 as I often travel' and that I was 'planning to head to Brazil after maybe month in the United States'. "Let that guy in!" right?

2023.10.02 Minneapolis

Reef and I shared deep thoughts, Hamburger Helper, and lots of music.

2023.10.07 Chicago

I was hosted by a friendly stranger and made my signature oatmeal dish, called "Poor man's risotto".

2023.10.09 Ithaca

Not sure how else I would have ended up visiting a place like this without knowing Omar, one of several friends I've made from Interintellect. Also not sure how to describe the range of our many, many conversations; he's what I call a 'generator', with much to say about many things.

2023.10.12 NYC

I met Nathan again, and we talked about platforms, travel, and friendships. His room's walls are filled with cool posters.

I met briefly with Kaixi and Sruti, both of whom shared my residency experience at Moos, as well as Cristóbal, with whom I shared sentiments about Brazil, creativity, and computing.

For some reason, I met all of these people for the first time in Berlin last year.

2023.10.15 Fuquay-Varina

A small town where homes have front yards larger than public parks from most cities. I got to stand inside Jess' legendary office.

2023.10.17 Burlington

Life in April's co-op housing network, with many friends, groups, and projects passing through.

2023.10.20 Denver

I reconnected with Ted after many years, and stayed at Hearthstone Cohousing, where I had a fun jam with Danilo and Charlie.

2023.10.23 Oakland

What a dreamy place! I've never seen so many beautiful plants and home gardens in one neighborhood. Benji's father in Sausalito showed me the amazing "It's-It" ice cream sandwich. Zach, who I met at Proyecto Lingüístico in Guatemala, let me play his mother's Steinway piano for 7 minutes. My childhood friend Andrew and his wife invited me for a wonderful hang and where we were all treated to an excellent Punjabi dinner from his mother-in-law. Lots of chats with Jessica and Tristan about human development, technology, and life; we made homemade Migas.

2023.10.28 Los Angeles

First-hand experience of the sprawling car city of angels with Vivek, training capoeira with a local Mojuba chapter, Gujarati thali buffet, many jams and musical moments, a taste of Baileys and Coke (forgot it was supposed to be Dr. Pepper).

---

This was a journey of connection, generosity, experiences, conversation, Strolling, cooking, music, beauty, and transformation. Certain moments that relate to my presence there instilled me with a sense of greater purpose, such as: one person unexpectedly getting closure after meeting me for the first time; another feeling emboldened to take more chances when talking to strangers; someone else leveling up their Portuguese and feeling empowered while understanding and speaking a new language.

I think it's important to acknowledge how, despite some quite transformational moments for me and others, this all started as a vague idea that I thought about frequently for months—it just felt like a cool thing to do someday, maybe. I simply ran it by my friends as it occurred to me, and then again when the possibility felt tangible or within reach; perhaps that planted seeds which prepared everything for later. This ultimately happened because it felt like the right time and because people seemed to be open and available—everything manifested easily, and it was indeed magical.

---

Thanks (in alphabetical order) to Alice, Andrew (and family), April (and friends), Benji, Cristóbal, Despina, Douglas, Gatsby 🐱, Jess (and family), Jessica, Kaixi, LaJuana, Maitiu, Nathan (and roommates), Omar, Randolph (and family), Reef, Roshni, Russell, Sruti, Ted, Tristan, Vidhika, Vivek, Yatharth, and Zach, for being a part of this trip in some way and making it memorable.

---

If you want to hear some of the conversations from these times, sign up for the Strolling newsletter or follow me anywhere online to know when they're published.

I'm not in the habit of documenting trips, especially sharing travel photos; I even used to avoid using my phone camera for some time, with an idea of 'being present instead'. Happy to see things differently now, but I notice that I take photos—capture, capture, capture—never re-visiting them much, even though it's often valuable for me to do that. This trip was special to me, so I would like to revisit what happened and create a nicely encapsulated memory for myself. I would like to generally share more about how I travel, as it's different from the way I usually see it happen and might even be interesting to some people. Perhaps this blog medium can break the 'photo album or stream' concept to share different kinds of things in context.

---

October 2023 was a busy month. I changed cities every couple days, knowing that I actually dislike travelling with that frequency, preferring instead to spend longer periods in places to go deeper. I explained my trip quite often as "I'm not here to see or do anything but rather to connect with my people", and it was a mindset that made bearable the hectic schedules and planning of bouncing around that much; 'attractions' visited can be counted on less than one hand, but there was an immeasurable quantity of diverse lenses into ordinary and everyday local life. With just my cabin-sized backpack weighing seven to nine kilograms, I was quite focused on going only where I felt called, connected, or welcome; this filled my experience with a sense of purpose, sometimes in completely unexpected ways.

2023.09.30 Winnipeg

My USA trip began in Canada with a visit to my cousin, who loves plants and lives in a small town near Winnipeg.

Then I headed south. I've had some anxiety about getting grilled at borders if I or my plans might seem strange, but I felt completely chill about showing up at pre-clearance without a return ticket. The agent actually seemed impressed with me 'not having a home address since 2019 as I often travel' and that I was 'planning to head to Brazil after maybe month in the United States'. "Let that guy in!" right?

2023.10.02 Minneapolis

Reef and I shared deep thoughts, Hamburger Helper, and lots of music.

2023.10.07 Chicago

I was hosted by a friendly stranger and made my signature oatmeal dish, called "Poor man's risotto".

2023.10.09 Ithaca

Not sure how else I would have ended up visiting a place like this without knowing Omar, one of several friends I've made from Interintellect. Also not sure how to describe the range of our many, many conversations; he's what I call a 'generator', with much to say about many things.

2023.10.12 NYC

I met Nathan again, and we talked about platforms, travel, and friendships. His room's walls are filled with cool posters.

I met briefly with Kaixi and Sruti, both of whom shared my residency experience at Moos, as well as Cristóbal, with whom I shared sentiments about Brazil, creativity, and computing.

For some reason, I met all of these people for the first time in Berlin last year.

2023.10.15 Fuquay-Varina

A small town where homes have front yards larger than public parks from most cities. I got to stand inside Jess' legendary office.

2023.10.17 Burlington

Life in April's co-op housing network, with many friends, groups, and projects passing through.

2023.10.20 Denver

I reconnected with Ted after many years, and stayed at Hearthstone Cohousing, where I had a fun jam with Danilo and Charlie.

2023.10.23 Oakland

What a dreamy place! I've never seen so many beautiful plants and home gardens in one neighborhood. Benji's father in Sausalito showed me the amazing "It's-It" ice cream sandwich. Zach, who I met at Proyecto Lingüístico in Guatemala, let me play his mother's Steinway piano for 7 minutes. My childhood friend Andrew and his wife invited me for a wonderful hang and where we were all treated to an excellent Punjabi dinner from his mother-in-law. Lots of chats with Jessica and Tristan about human development, technology, and life; we made homemade Migas.

2023.10.28 Los Angeles

First-hand experience of the sprawling car city of angels with Vivek, training capoeira with a local Mojuba chapter, Gujarati thali buffet, many jams and musical moments, a taste of Baileys and Coke (forgot it was supposed to be Dr. Pepper).

---

This was a journey of connection, generosity, experiences, conversation, Strolling, cooking, music, beauty, and transformation. Certain moments that relate to my presence there instilled me with a sense of greater purpose, such as: one person unexpectedly getting closure after meeting me for the first time; another feeling emboldened to take more chances when talking to strangers; someone else leveling up their Portuguese and feeling empowered while understanding and speaking a new language.

I think it's important to acknowledge how, despite some quite transformational moments for me and others, this all started as a vague idea that I thought about frequently for months—it just felt like a cool thing to do someday, maybe. I simply ran it by my friends as it occurred to me, and then again when the possibility felt tangible or within reach; perhaps that planted seeds which prepared everything for later. This ultimately happened because it felt like the right time and because people seemed to be open and available—everything manifested easily, and it was indeed magical.

---

Thanks (in alphabetical order) to Alice, Andrew (and family), April (and friends), Benji, Cristóbal, Despina, Douglas, Gatsby 🐱, Jess (and family), Jessica, Kaixi, LaJuana, Maitiu, Nathan (and roommates), Omar, Randolph (and family), Reef, Roshni, Russell, Sruti, Ted, Tristan, Vidhika, Vivek, Yatharth, and Zach, for being a part of this trip in some way and making it memorable.

---

If you want to hear some of the conversations from these times, sign up for the Strolling newsletter or follow me anywhere online to know when they're published.

I've never really written a song with words before.

This one sort of came to me on a plane, thinking about and missing my partner who I wouldn't see for a few weeks.

Fragments of a melody, some words, and verses, arriving persistently in random order.

Even on an overnight flight, I was too excited to sleep observing this unfold.

It felt simply like listing "things I felt" or "things I wanted to say", and then applying note-taking reflexes to making music: putting related bits together, sorting and massaging text, tweaking for rhymes and musicality, moving undecided elements to a recycle pile.

I often like to describe this as 'writing without magic' and it's nice to see it happening with a song.

I'm happy with how this turned out and hope you'll enjoy.

Get the audio version on Bandcamp and some extra goodies here.

I've never really written a song with words before.

This one sort of came to me on a plane, thinking about and missing my partner who I wouldn't see for a few weeks.

Fragments of a melody, some words, and verses, arriving persistently in random order.

Even on an overnight flight, I was too excited to sleep observing this unfold.

It felt simply like listing "things I felt" or "things I wanted to say", and then applying note-taking reflexes to making music: putting related bits together, sorting and massaging text, tweaking for rhymes and musicality, moving undecided elements to a recycle pile.

I often like to describe this as 'writing without magic' and it's nice to see it happening with a song.

I'm happy with how this turned out and hope you'll enjoy.

Get the audio version on Bandcamp and some extra goodies here.

This is about a collection of songs I love to sing and why I'm publishing them online. Also feel free to skip right to the music.

---

The story

Although I was trained professionally in music, I never pursued it as a career—partly because of not feeling able to compete in a crowded 'market', and partly because I'm content to explore my other interests.

My focus was piano, which I had studied for about 12 years before university. After coming to the guitar later in life, first noodling (one note at a time), then singing a bit (with some chords), then in front of other people (unimaginable in the past), I feel like I've come full circle and am on the cusp of once again relating to music in a way that fills me with vitality and curiosity, and as my performance instincts relax and open up more, I feel compelled to share them, with you.

Similar to Tiny concert for a friend, the following set of songs are published with imperfections to reduce stress around 'mistakes', as it's more about capturing the process in performing them. I tried to record casually, which to me means: minimal preparation, not much editing, mostly do a few takes and choose the strongest one, maybe add a layer of harmony, perhaps some percussion by playing the chair I'm sitting on… It was a documenting process, mostly for myself, but I learned a lot about dealing with nerves, and stabilizing the self while playing. I'm surprised to feel comfortable with certain guitar chords that were previously indecipherable, and also to be able to project my voice more; it feels like being in a space of enjoying the sound my body produces, and creating with what's abundantly around me.

Sharing these songs online takes the place of a concert I would have liked to organize, as it wasn't possible before leaving Berlin. They're mostly in Brazilian Portuguese with a bit of German, Egyptian Arabic, and English somewhere in there. I hope at least one of them brings light to your heart and provides a glimpse of why music is so meaningful to me.

The music

1. Caetano Veloso: O Leãozinho
2. Joana Queiroz: Partida
3. Paulinho Da Viola: Samba Do Amor
4. Ingo Armbruster: Der Wald
5. Amr Diab: Bayen Habeit
6. Joyce Moreno: Tardes Cariocas / See You In Rio
7. Paulo Borges: Cabecinha No Ombro
8. Tom Jobim: Correnteza
9. Caetano Veloso: Trem Das Cores
10. Joyce Moreno: Juparanã
11. some seeds take a while

---

Get the audio version for free on Bandcamp.

This is about a collection of songs I love to sing and why I'm publishing them online. Also feel free to skip right to the music.

---

The story

Although I was trained professionally in music, I never pursued it as a career—partly because of not feeling able to compete in a crowded 'market', and partly because I'm content to explore my other interests.

My focus was piano, which I had studied for about 12 years before university. After coming to the guitar later in life, first noodling (one note at a time), then singing a bit (with some chords), then in front of other people (unimaginable in the past), I feel like I've come full circle and am on the cusp of once again relating to music in a way that fills me with vitality and curiosity, and as my performance instincts relax and open up more, I feel compelled to share them, with you.

Similar to Tiny concert for a friend, the following set of songs are published with imperfections to reduce stress around 'mistakes', as it's more about capturing the process in performing them. I tried to record casually, which to me means: minimal preparation, not much editing, mostly do a few takes and choose the strongest one, maybe add a layer of harmony, perhaps some percussion by playing the chair I'm sitting on… It was a documenting process, mostly for myself, but I learned a lot about dealing with nerves, and stabilizing the self while playing. I'm surprised to feel comfortable with certain guitar chords that were previously indecipherable, and also to be able to project my voice more; it feels like being in a space of enjoying the sound my body produces, and creating with what's abundantly around me.

Sharing these songs online takes the place of a concert I would have liked to organize, as it wasn't possible before leaving Berlin. They're mostly in Brazilian Portuguese with a bit of German, Egyptian Arabic, and English somewhere in there. I hope at least one of them brings light to your heart and provides a glimpse of why music is so meaningful to me.

The music

1. Caetano Veloso: O Leãozinho
2. Joana Queiroz: Partida
3. Paulinho Da Viola: Samba Do Amor
4. Ingo Armbruster: Der Wald
5. Amr Diab: Bayen Habeit
6. Joyce Moreno: Tardes Cariocas / See You In Rio
7. Paulo Borges: Cabecinha No Ombro
8. Tom Jobim: Correnteza
9. Caetano Veloso: Trem Das Cores
10. Joyce Moreno: Juparanã
11. some seeds take a while

---

Get the audio version for free on Bandcamp.

Rosano and Vivek invite you to a salon on creation and consumption becoming one.

Improvisation, Spontaneity, and Oneness

What can various traditions of non-duality teach us about being spontaneous? What makes someone a good improviser? What makes for a good experience on improvisation? How much do improvisers plan? Is it something that is “manufactured” or simply “channeled?” Can improvisation be a portal into an experience of shared consciousness?

Let’s talk about improvisation in comedy and music, and how to encourage more spontaneity in life.

Further reading/watching

• Miles Davis on “wrong notes and lines”
• Speaking of Music interview with Keith Jarrett
• Brian Katz: Juggling Musically
• Casey Sokol: Musical Improvisation
• Harry Mack: Improvised freestyle for a man’s late fiancé
• Venkatesh Rao’s summary of the book Impro by Keith Johnstone
• T.M. Krishna on spontaneity in Carnatic music and how creativity must surprise us

—

Additional notes

Image by Alex Alvarez.

If you have any difficulty participating due to financial reasons, send us a message and we’ll buy your ticket.

Rosano and Vivek invite you to a salon on creation and consumption becoming one.

Improvisation, Spontaneity, and Oneness

What can various traditions of non-duality teach us about being spontaneous? What makes someone a good improviser? What makes for a good experience on improvisation? How much do improvisers plan? Is it something that is “manufactured” or simply “channeled?” Can improvisation be a portal into an experience of shared consciousness?

Let’s talk about improvisation in comedy and music, and how to encourage more spontaneity in life.

Further reading/watching

• Miles Davis on “wrong notes and lines”
• Speaking of Music interview with Keith Jarrett
• Brian Katz: Juggling Musically
• Casey Sokol: Musical Improvisation
• Harry Mack: Improvised freestyle for a man’s late fiancé
• Venkatesh Rao’s summary of the book Impro by Keith Johnstone
• T.M. Krishna on spontaneity in Carnatic music and how creativity must surprise us

—

Additional notes

Image by Alex Alvarez.

If you have any difficulty participating due to financial reasons, send us a message and we’ll buy your ticket.

Let’s listen to music together and talk about how it affects us.

Music and Emotion Sharing Circle

---

Summary

We did a few rounds of spontaneously selecting music to share based on where the conversation was. After listening collectively, we talked about how it makes us feel, why we feel connected to certain songs, other context related to the music itself. We heard a variety of genres in three languages and allowed ourselves to be surprised. Some people shared reaction music to other people's selections. Some of us brought instruments to play/sing.

Some takeaways

• chords and music theory might seem mathematical, but they can become a language that affects us emotionally.
• there is hope in always having something new to discover, to hear the unexpected in something you're familiar with.
• music can offer a healthier way to connect with more primal emotions like anger and rage.

Playlist

Try the one-click playlist via Joybox without accounts or sign up—just open and play.

1. Vance Joy: Riptide (via Omar)
2. Lingua Ignota: PENNSYLVANIA FURNACE (via Zsolt)
3. The Turtles: Happy Together (via Jeeva)
4. Perpetuum Jazzile: Africa (via Tanya)
5. Gordon Lightfoot: The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (via Omar)
6. The Corrs, Mick Fleetwood: Haste to the Wedding (via Tanya)
7. Joyce Moreno: Monsieur Binot (via Rosano)
8. Greg Puciato: Absence as a Presence (via Zsolt)
9. Lord Huron: Fool For Love (via Omar)
10. Lil Jon, LMFAO: Drink (via Jeeva)
11. J Anoop Seelin: Marete Hodenu (via Tanya)
12. Jacob Collier: Moon River a cappella (via Rosano)

---

(I heart music)

I always love receiving music. Send me recommendations anytime, anywhere!

Every week, I share an eclectic playlist of my favourite musical finds in Ephemerata.

Let’s listen to music together and talk about how it affects us.

Music and Emotion Sharing Circle

---

Summary

We did a few rounds of spontaneously selecting music to share based on where the conversation was. After listening collectively, we talked about how it makes us feel, why we feel connected to certain songs, other context related to the music itself. We heard a variety of genres in three languages and allowed ourselves to be surprised. Some people shared reaction music to other people's selections. Some of us brought instruments to play/sing.

Some takeaways

• chords and music theory might seem mathematical, but they can become a language that affects us emotionally.
• there is hope in always having something new to discover, to hear the unexpected in something you're familiar with.
• music can offer a healthier way to connect with more primal emotions like anger and rage.

Playlist

Try the one-click playlist via Joybox without accounts or sign up—just open and play.

1. Vance Joy: Riptide (via Omar)
2. Lingua Ignota: PENNSYLVANIA FURNACE (via Zsolt)
3. The Turtles: Happy Together (via Jeeva)
4. Perpetuum Jazzile: Africa (via Tanya)
5. Gordon Lightfoot: The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald (via Omar)
6. The Corrs, Mick Fleetwood: Haste to the Wedding (via Tanya)
7. Joyce Moreno: Monsieur Binot (via Rosano)
8. Greg Puciato: Absence as a Presence (via Zsolt)
9. Lord Huron: Fool For Love (via Omar)
10. Lil Jon, LMFAO: Drink (via Jeeva)
11. J Anoop Seelin: Marete Hodenu (via Tanya)
12. Jacob Collier: Moon River a cappella (via Rosano)

---

(I heart music)

I always love receiving music. Send me recommendations anytime, anywhere!

Every week, I share an eclectic playlist of my favourite musical finds in Ephemerata.

I often say that formally studying music "broke my soul into a thousand pieces which I'm slowly putting back together again". It has been a process for me to make more music, feel comfortable with performing and improvising as well as thinking about composition.

This performance of some improvisation and a few songs from Joyce Moreno's album Revendo Amigos (1994) symbolizes for me an evolution to a more holistic relationship with music, less affected by my own dogmas and that of the institutions I participated in, more marked by a desire to share and an acknowledgement of my own abilities and how I relate to the world.

In preparation, I used some inner feedback loops that helped me developed a comfort with mistakes, with the sound of my voice, with my inchoate abilities on a new instrument. There is still a part of me that wants to professionalize everything, but it's more under control. I can enjoy this for what it is, I can own this, I can be proud of this. It's an expansive space: I have more to do here.

The music below is not completely refined and presented with imperfections, but it's a very strong message to myself that I hope to remember beyond the moment of its creation.

---

I often say that formally studying music "broke my soul into a thousand pieces which I'm slowly putting back together again". It has been a process for me to make more music, feel comfortable with performing and improvising as well as thinking about composition.

This performance of some improvisation and a few songs from Joyce Moreno's album Revendo Amigos (1994) symbolizes for me an evolution to a more holistic relationship with music, less affected by my own dogmas and that of the institutions I participated in, more marked by a desire to share and an acknowledgement of my own abilities and how I relate to the world.

In preparation, I used some inner feedback loops that helped me developed a comfort with mistakes, with the sound of my voice, with my inchoate abilities on a new instrument. There is still a part of me that wants to professionalize everything, but it's more under control. I can enjoy this for what it is, I can own this, I can be proud of this. It's an expansive space: I have more to do here.

The music below is not completely refined and presented with imperfections, but it's a very strong message to myself that I hope to remember beyond the moment of its creation.

---

In preparing Tiny concert for a friend, I audio recorded myself playing guitar while singing and listened back to it immediately after. I tried to do this at least once per day and ended up with four or five sessions repeating this process with the same set of songs.

I was surprised by my noticeable progress in just a few days, and that the process felt productive, self-affirming, and contributing to a healthy relationship with music and the instrument—I actually enjoyed the feedback loop. I noted how my own preferences emerge more clearly: I'm definitely modelling my performance off of the recordings from which I learned the repertoire, but hearing myself makes my inclinations more malleable—music starts to feel more like a moldable material rather than something abstract or 'from someone else'. I thought I would feel overly critical, but it actually trained me to accept and even enjoy my own sound. For a few days I also had a nice routine going of breakfast, reading, stretching, recording, listening back—it felt like a thorough wake-up, leaving me ready to experience the day.

I frequently wondered, "Why have I never done this?". I always knew that people do this, and that I could too, but somehow never gave it a try. I've known about this for a while, since studying music professionally and having been around musicians and their culture for a while. Perhaps it's due to dogmas around perfection that made me feel too intimidated to listen to myself: in one context, music being more about execution than improvisation; in another music being professionalized to the point where sounding 'good' takes precedence over emotional expression. I haven't figured out my answer yet, but I find it useful to ask "What stopped me from doing this and what else is it preventing me from experiencing?"

There were obviously various challenges, but I felt uplifted knowing that one grows by learning to deal with situations. One long-time difficulty of mine is to play music at an unfavourable moment (such as in the morning, before my day starts, in sort of chilly temperature). I found myself working through feelings of clammy fingers and lousy tone, using what I have to construct something (the recursive process of using your own resources to validate your own resources), and building ways to deal with what's at hand. Another difficulty is various hesitations and mental disturbances (thinking too much and other things that impede your flow). I found multiple aspects of performance to help hook myself into the music when feeling distracted: pronunciation, enunciation, helping the body embody the music, voice projection, breathing, etc… It was a relief when I reminded myself that it's okay for me to be somewhat shoddy with my guitar playing because in this context the words are more important. I was able to overcome this binary around "now we're playing the song, now we're not" by constructing mini-routines like tuning the guitar before each performance, allowing myself to revise any ambiguities directly or through improvising, not worrying about how the audience perceives it, and generally opening myself up to be more fluid with music and sound.

To me, the ideals of 'gradual incremental progress' (so common in the world of technology) always seemed at odds with the non-linear nature of music, but I now feel like having arrived at some semblance of it that nurtures more than compromises the practice.

I'm excited to try this more in the future, not only as a way to 'rehearse' but as a way to 'compose'. I also see the approach as part of my broader idea about documenting moments:

For most of life it's possible to look back and observe your own progress. This is encouraging at times when you feel less positive about yourself. All it takes is making a note of where you are with words, sounds, or images.

In preparing Tiny concert for a friend, I audio recorded myself playing guitar while singing and listened back to it immediately after. I tried to do this at least once per day and ended up with four or five sessions repeating this process with the same set of songs.

I was surprised by my noticeable progress in just a few days, and that the process felt productive, self-affirming, and contributing to a healthy relationship with music and the instrument—I actually enjoyed the feedback loop. I noted how my own preferences emerge more clearly: I'm definitely modelling my performance off of the recordings from which I learned the repertoire, but hearing myself makes my inclinations more malleable—music starts to feel more like a moldable material rather than something abstract or 'from someone else'. I thought I would feel overly critical, but it actually trained me to accept and even enjoy my own sound. For a few days I also had a nice routine going of breakfast, reading, stretching, recording, listening back—it felt like a thorough wake-up, leaving me ready to experience the day.

I frequently wondered, "Why have I never done this?". I always knew that people do this, and that I could too, but somehow never gave it a try. I've known about this for a while, since studying music professionally and having been around musicians and their culture for a while. Perhaps it's due to dogmas around perfection that made me feel too intimidated to listen to myself: in one context, music being more about execution than improvisation; in another music being professionalized to the point where sounding 'good' takes precedence over emotional expression. I haven't figured out my answer yet, but I find it useful to ask "What stopped me from doing this and what else is it preventing me from experiencing?"

There were obviously various challenges, but I felt uplifted knowing that one grows by learning to deal with situations. One long-time difficulty of mine is to play music at an unfavourable moment (such as in the morning, before my day starts, in sort of chilly temperature). I found myself working through feelings of clammy fingers and lousy tone, using what I have to construct something (the recursive process of using your own resources to validate your own resources), and building ways to deal with what's at hand. Another difficulty is various hesitations and mental disturbances (thinking too much and other things that impede your flow). I found multiple aspects of performance to help hook myself into the music when feeling distracted: pronunciation, enunciation, helping the body embody the music, voice projection, breathing, etc… It was a relief when I reminded myself that it's okay for me to be somewhat shoddy with my guitar playing because in this context the words are more important. I was able to overcome this binary around "now we're playing the song, now we're not" by constructing mini-routines like tuning the guitar before each performance, allowing myself to revise any ambiguities directly or through improvising, not worrying about how the audience perceives it, and generally opening myself up to be more fluid with music and sound.

To me, the ideals of 'gradual incremental progress' (so common in the world of technology) always seemed at odds with the non-linear nature of music, but I now feel like having arrived at some semblance of it that nurtures more than compromises the practice.

I'm excited to try this more in the future, not only as a way to 'rehearse' but as a way to 'compose'. I also see the approach as part of my broader idea about documenting moments:

For most of life it's possible to look back and observe your own progress. This is encouraging at times when you feel less positive about yourself. All it takes is making a note of where you are with words, sounds, or images.

I was fortunate to be born into a musical family and for music to have been a concrete part of life as long as I can remember. I studied piano for almost fifteen years, from private lessons to a professional university degree in music. I find it strange that despite this backdrop, despite there always being one or more guitars in the house, despite having two parents that play, despite having the opportunity to take group classes with Brian Katz, the instrument never clicked with me until recently. This could have been because I was comparing it to the piano in unhealthy ways: "What's this fretboard interface, why can't I use a keyboard?"; "I can't believe how much one needs to contort the fingers just to play chords."; "It's so hard to create a tone that doesn't sound terrible, on the piano I can just push buttons.". It was always an adverse relationship with the instrument, never leading to a feeling of building something over time.

I was also fortunate to have opportunities to travel solo around the world. Since 2017, I have been very mobile, out of the country more than in, not having many posessions so that I can just throw everything in storage and fly when the time comes. This made it challenging to maintain a relationship with the piano: it isn't practical to take one with you, and finding one that feels good to play is a challenge in any place. In 2019, after returning from a month in Egypt, I started to look at the guitar differently. I appreciated its portability and how easy it is to find one in the wild, and how it doesn't have as much classical music 'baggage' as the piano. I also felt compelled to reproduce the melodies and ornamentation in arabic music that were around me in my trip. I began approaching it casually to goof around and found myself relating to it more deeply. I started to really dig the sound—the resonance of the nylon strings, a tone very tender, mellow, and sombre. It was a pleasure even just to play a single note, to feel my finger putting pressure on the string and making contact with the wood, to hear the resonance within the instrument and in the ambient space. It was a beautiful experience for me to be directly connected with the production of sound, as an extension of my body in a way that never felt possible with the piano. At some point I felt I was relating to it more profoundly than I ever had with any other instrument, and questioned whether I had 'started on the wrong foot' so to speak…

Since then I have been playing off and on, but everytime I come back it gets better. I still sometimes compare to the piano, but perhaps in a more healthy way, celebrating the unique qualities of the instrument:

• There is no pretension of 'doing the same thing equally with both hands', it makes no sense here.
• It's alright just to play a simple melody without chords or accompaniment. It sounds good and even feels good.
• You can relate to it with more intimacy, physical proximity—you can actually tune it. It also changes your body as fingers develop calluses from playing regularly.
• Sound production is comes from fingers and touch: no abstractions, no mechanics.

A friend describes me sitting with the instrument, somewhat frustrated that I improvise freely without playing familiar songs, saying 'he spends all his time with the guitar just talking'. In some sense, it does feel like I'm returning to meet an old friend and there's lot's to discuss, and I'm grateful for that.

See also

• Sixth time's a charm

I was fortunate to be born into a musical family and for music to have been a concrete part of life as long as I can remember. I studied piano for almost fifteen years, from private lessons to a professional university degree in music. I find it strange that despite this backdrop, despite there always being one or more guitars in the house, despite having two parents that play, despite having the opportunity to take group classes with Brian Katz, the instrument never clicked with me until recently. This could have been because I was comparing it to the piano in unhealthy ways: "What's this fretboard interface, why can't I use a keyboard?"; "I can't believe how much one needs to contort the fingers just to play chords."; "It's so hard to create a tone that doesn't sound terrible, on the piano I can just push buttons.". It was always an adverse relationship with the instrument, never leading to a feeling of building something over time.

I was also fortunate to have opportunities to travel solo around the world. Since 2017, I have been very mobile, out of the country more than in, not having many posessions so that I can just throw everything in storage and fly when the time comes. This made it challenging to maintain a relationship with the piano: it isn't practical to take one with you, and finding one that feels good to play is a challenge in any place. In 2019, after returning from a month in Egypt, I started to look at the guitar differently. I appreciated its portability and how easy it is to find one in the wild, and how it doesn't have as much classical music 'baggage' as the piano. I also felt compelled to reproduce the melodies and ornamentation in arabic music that were around me in my trip. I began approaching it casually to goof around and found myself relating to it more deeply. I started to really dig the sound—the resonance of the nylon strings, a tone very tender, mellow, and sombre. It was a pleasure even just to play a single note, to feel my finger putting pressure on the string and making contact with the wood, to hear the resonance within the instrument and in the ambient space. It was a beautiful experience for me to be directly connected with the production of sound, as an extension of my body in a way that never felt possible with the piano. At some point I felt I was relating to it more profoundly than I ever had with any other instrument, and questioned whether I had 'started on the wrong foot' so to speak…

Since then I have been playing off and on, but everytime I come back it gets better. I still sometimes compare to the piano, but perhaps in a more healthy way, celebrating the unique qualities of the instrument:

• There is no pretension of 'doing the same thing equally with both hands', it makes no sense here.
• It's alright just to play a simple melody without chords or accompaniment. It sounds good and even feels good.
• You can relate to it with more intimacy, physical proximity—you can actually tune it. It also changes your body as fingers develop calluses from playing regularly.
• Sound production is comes from fingers and touch: no abstractions, no mechanics.

A friend describes me sitting with the instrument, somewhat frustrated that I improvise freely without playing familiar songs, saying 'he spends all his time with the guitar just talking'. In some sense, it does feel like I'm returning to meet an old friend and there's lot's to discuss, and I'm grateful for that.

See also

• Sixth time's a charm