Happy March!

Your free demo of the month is a brand new song called “The Circle Maker.” Sign up to receive the song! Read on for the story behind it.

News:

• In case you missed the February 11th event where I spoke about and performed my Russian-influenced songs, it’s available to view on my Patreon. (You can even sign up, watch it, then cancel!)

• I’ll be sending these Minor Holiday-themed stickers (designed by Kyla Smith) to my Patreon subscribers in the coming weeks. Again, you can always sign up for a month and then cancel!

• Kyla Smith’s animated lyric video for my new single “Minor Holiday” will be coming very soon!

• “Minor Holiday” sheet music (piano/vocals/chords) is also available! (PDF = $1 — or included with a Patreon membership.)

Reading Time: 4 minutes

Do you know the story of Honi the Circle Maker? No? Actually, there are a few stories. Honi the Circle Maker was a Jewish scholar of the 1st century BCE. In a time of drought, Honi made a circle and stood in it and told God that he wouldn’t move until it rained.

When it began to drizzle, he said, “What? That’s it? I asked for RAIN.”

When the drizzle turned into a downpour, he said, “Jeez, God, how about just some normal rain?”

Rather than just being grateful for the rain, everyone who witnessed this thought Honi was Too Much, and they basically tried to ghost him.

In the next story, Honi saw a guy planting a carob tree and asked, “How long will it take for that tree to bear fruit?”

“Seventy years,” the guy said.

“Wow,” Honi said. “And you think you’ll live to see the day?”

“I found carob trees already bearing fruit in the world. I’m planting this tree for future generations, like my ancestors did for me.”

Honi sat down and fell asleep. When he woke up, the carob tree had grown, and someone was harvesting the fruit.

“You there,” Honi said. “Are you the one who planted this tree?”

“You mean my grandpa? Nope, he’s long gone.”

Honi had slept for seventy years, waking to find a changed world. No one would believe he was really Honi the Circle Maker. Much like in the circle-making story, they all thought he was just some weirdo. And so he prayed for death.

In another version of the same story, when Honi told people who he was, they said, “We heard that when you would go into the temple courtyard, it would be illuminated.” And so he went into the temple and illuminated it, and everyone believed it was him.

This winter, I took a class on Jewish sacred and secular poetry from Rabbi David Kosak. One of the modern poets we read was Rachel the Poetess, a.k.a. Rachel Bluwstein. She had tuberculosis and ended up a pariah, dying at the age of 40. I was struck by this poem (translated by Rabbi Kosak), in which she compares her fate with that of Honi:

The jittered fate of Honi
darkens my soul today.
“If you met the man on the road,
you wouldn’t greet him shalom.”

The times were not his times.
How strange he was to all.
Beneath the weighted load
of lonely bitterness he fell.

For certain, I am here too.
I slept in the shade of the wall.
Yes, if they passed me on the way,
I too would hear no shalom.

Here in my dream they strangered me,
friends and companions to me.
The shadowed gloom of Honi,
spread on the face of my path.

This may sound petty when compared to tuberculosis, but it made me think of all the times I’ve written to artists I admire, in Portland and beyond, and never gotten a response. Sometimes I’ve been hoping to collaborate. Other times I’ve just longed for a sense of community. I know there are many reasons why they might not respond, but it always hurts. Often these are people who have been very kind to my face. Online, these artists respond to other people’s comments. They collaborate with other artists, and talk about how much they care about the music-making community. Does that not include me?

I’m not looking for pity here — I only mean to share my emotional experience. I also know I used to leave people hanging a lot when I was younger, and even now I still do it sometimes, despite my best intentions. Regardless, I could write a million songs about being left on read and still have unresolved pain to spare.

This isn’t something I experience as often outside the United States. In Japan and Russia, for example, artists respond much more readily. Maybe they’re less focused on their brand and their image and being Instagram-perfect, only ever communicating with people who will potentially get them more followers. Maybe in those cultures people have a greater capacity for human connection. Or maybe I (or my music) come across better in those cultures.

This new song is based on the stories of Honi the Circle Maker, on Rachel’s poem, and on my pent-up feelings of the times not being my times. One section recalls the part about Honi illuminating the temple, while also alluding to the Sofar Sounds shows I often played before the pandemic — shows that tend to involve fairy lights and singalongs. It’s been so long, they feel like a distant dream.

But in sleep, I may dream:
Fairy lights illuminating
Everything, everyone
Gathered all around me
Singing a song.

A nice antidote to all these feelings is Kathleen Lane’s wonderful new middle grade book Pity Party. The whole book was a timely reminder that the most important thing is to be myself. Maybe these other artists don’t get me, and that’s fine. Who else can I be?

Thank you for letting me share this song with you. I’ll be in touch soon to share the “Minor Holiday” lyric video!

Take care,
Stephan
a.k.a. Sparkbird