#MindSong

[musicarenagh]

Inside the Para Lia Soundscape: The Story Behind "Mind Song" The music talent of Para Lia shines through in their ability to create music that’s personal yet strikes a universal chord with listeners. The band displays this talent through their recent release "Mind Song". The song perfectly unites 70s rock raw power with psychedelic indie intricate textures to produce an irresistible musical experience that welcomes listeners instantly into its enchanting sonic world. Para Lia blends musical elements from 90s indie rock with 60s garage sounds and the progressive music that emerged during the early 70s to form their musical foundation. The band Para Lia presents their mature musical direction on Mind Song through their expanded six-member membership. Under live recording conditions the track maintains an authentic feeling while maintaining the sense of both spontaneity and careful production work. The powerful musical production of Mind Song hides a meaningful message that guides listeners to embrace their true selves by defying social expectations. An exclusive interview will examine the creation of Mind Song and the artistic development of the band before revealing Para Lia's musical plans for 2025. Listen to Mind Song below https://open.spotify.com/album/3lGPOcD5zQgfhkn0cLD8ZK?si=PZ89WUkMRiW7TQzaK1kOJA Follow Para Lia on Facebook Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Bandcamp Youtube Instagram Tiktok   What inspired the introspective theme behind "Mind Song", and Can you tell us about the creative journey that led to its development, I mean how does your collaborative process work when creating new music? Can you walk us through how this particular track came together? Mind Song with it’s stomping rhythm is inspired by the groove and the feel of early 70s music like Slade classics and stuff like this. René, the songwriter of the band had one day this melody playing in his head, the hook line of the song. And he started the songwriting, worked out the arrangement and then recorded a demo tape for the band. Finally the band worked out final version of the song and it was nice – for the single release - to record the single tracks and to work with lakeside studio in Berlin, where Dirk Burke did the mixing and mastering of the track. Your sound has been evolving throughout your career. How do you feel "Mind Song" represents your artistic growth? It is the first recording in our current lie up as band of 6 and it has the Para Lia sound, which has, as we often hear, something distinctive. But at the same time you can listen here to the energy of the whole band – and the recording was done under live conditions, so it is a very authentic piece of music, showing how tha band sounds. https://youtu.be/tv3JG1n-5Cc What were some of the technical or emotional challenges you faced while recording "Mind Song"? We did it all in a very short time – and it was a surprising good flow, like a mirror of the band playing live gigs. So it was a pleasure to see how it goes. Are there any specific musical influences that shaped the sound of this single? As in all the Para Lia stuff you find influences of 90s indierock as well as influences of 60s garage and psychedelic and early 70s prog rock. The thing with Mind Song is the same as in other Para Lia songs – to melt influences and the Para Lia music Cosmos to a very own sound. The title "Mind Song" suggests a deep psychological element. What message do you hope listeners take away from this track? Music journalist Dave Franklin got it very well as he wrote some days ago in New York based Big takeover Magazine: „The message is both simple and poignant, timeless and timely – don’t be pulled into the dark complexities of the ego, don’t be swayed by what seems to be too good to be true (because it always is), and don’t worry about the superficial, don’t play societies power games… keep your mind song pure and let it sing about the things that make you happy. Life is short; live it on your terms and be who you want.“

How has your approach to songwriting changed since you first started making music? Getting better as a musician day by day, year by year. Learning a lot about arranging songs, playing a lot of instruments to record the demo version as a base fort he band to work it out. Increasing this helps a lot. https://open.spotify.com/artist/1cLZhbb6pWX67RV0eaWyXY Can you tell us about the production choices you made to capture the emotional essence of this song? We used low equipment – but we put a lot of energy, emotion and feel in it. Mybe you can hear it. What role does your local music scene play in shaping your artistic vision? Being part of the local music scene in our region is a very nice thing. To have a fan base here is a huge support. Looking ahead, how does "Mind Song" fit into your broader musical journey? Does it hint at new directions you'd like to explore? Mind Song is the first of a couple of singles, which will see the light of day in 2025. So our plan is to play some nice live gigs this year and also work out and to record some more new stuff. The Para Lia cosmos leads the direction – but the band always is good for including surprising sounds and moments.

[noatherics]

CLARK / @amcssing ——— a blur of azure, a flicker of red, a dash of gold—— it’s the roar of wind, the tearing of sound then the chill of the tundra. crystal shards stacked high, threatening to pierce heaven itself yet … they would never. gently it holds the world aloft, an icy place of solitude and respite, a place where even heroes might rest: a fortress. ears perk, catch the sound of clicking heels, the gentle shift of blonde hair, the sound of plush lips made stern. a boom—— a clap of thunder, the roar that announces the elation of flight before he appears. clark hovers, weightless, blues peering at her with a stars luminosity. warm, inviting, kind. boots tap the ground gentle, no longer content to linger above … no, eager to stand beside. cape swishes, faint traces of wear, a battle fought and won. strong fingers, warm like flame cup her cheeks, forehead resting against hers. ‘I’m starting to think you like the fortress of solitude way more than I do, Emma. Trying to live up to the last name?’

SHE FEELS HIM BEFORE she hears him, sees him, before the wind shifts and suddenly he is here. summer fruits / warm flannel / old folk music / sunsets. her silence interrupted but for once, it is welcome, this cacophony of thoughts running mile - a - minute . the moment her mind can touch his, the rigidness of her shoulders seems to melt.

lashes flutter shut, brushing the cheeks lifted with touch. his hands are calloused----how are they so soft ? questions she'll never ask because she doesn't care for an answer. first time she's had that thought since her arrival, which was, how long ago ? emma loses track of time here with an unnerving ease. or perhaps comforting ease.

-- " can you blame me ? "

it isn't a real question / he would never. he would never blame her for her loneliness, her wondering. and wondering she has been: her curse is to think, after all. to think of her responsibilities, her loves, her life. her failures. broken children, broken heroes. for every time she attempts to protect the metahumans, does she do anything but paint targets upon their backs ? her heart so open, yet caged.

he frees it. instantly. emma looks up into eyes full oif hope and the glacier melts, so does her gaze. a forehead 'gainst chest. something solid to lean against / not violent, but fierce. unmoving. she is diamond, but he is her rock. holding her down to the ground despite his ability to fly. perhaps that's what drew her in, after all these years; someone with a genuine want to hold her without suffocating. protect, not control. an open mind both literally and figuratively, easy to forgive and easier to trust.

his mindsong hums against hers, and she doesn't read them, just listens. enjoys the comfort of his alien mind with hers, his very human embrace.

-- " ... i apologise. i should have had batman inform you i was leaving. you didn't need to rush here so suddenly. "

[remnantglow]

17, 23, and 24!

17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

omg i read this at the very beginning of january so i completely forgot abt it, but Five Survive by Holly Jackson! it has SUCH a dumb premise, but holly jackson somehow manages to make it actually compelling. like, it's no A Good Girl's Guide to Murder, but it's a surprisingly solid YA thriller

18. What’s the fastest time it took you to read a book?

i think that'd be The Bride Test by Helen Hoang which i read, like, overnight, in a single sitting, in some sort of bizarre fevered haze back in january. i'm not even into romance i might've been possessed (i liked The Kiss Quotient better though)

Did you DNF anything? Why?

oh boy did i. The Society for Soulless Girls was just. Too YA for me. dkfjgnk 💀 Mindsong by Joan Cox was boring me to death, same with Station Eternity by Mur Lafferty :///

[lacavernamx]

Para Lia y "Mindsong": Blues-Rock Hipnótico con un Mensaje de Liberación - https://wp.me/p4pCgM-6T6

Desde Alemania, Para Lia regresa con "Mindsong", un himno de blues-rock psicodélico que invita a despertar la mente y abrazar la vida con intensidad.

[kelegerauthor]

'Sing Praises, Sing Glory, Sing the Dirge' (God)

September 27, 2024: 'Sing Praises, Sing Glory, Sing the Dirge' (God)…'...you 'o misguiders...have pillaged long enough...it is time to correct

Sing Praises, Sing Glory, Sing the Dirge (God)what a gloomy way it isto stretch ones imaginationto develop in the mindsongs of talessongs of memoriessongs of sadnessand you sing themyou clap over themfor they affect youin some small wayhow engrossing it isto heardebateover what I saidover what I sendover what I teachshe who writes thesedoesn't know when or whereand sometimes doubtsuntil she sees…

[jextell2514]

hmm I don't know if it would be emotionally devastating but it definitely could be

for the music angle... mindsong? although that has the same sort of issue as golden telepath. It's kinda pretty though

listening to enamored by Precious Jewel Amor and it's giving me Amber/Melisande feelings

[erocktattoo]

#erickalayon #alayon #redpen #moleskine #piccadilly #notebook #crows #wind #night #breeze #dream #dreams #poetry #poem #indiewriter #indieauthor #song #mindsong #writing #writer #longisland #longislandny #ny (at Suffolk County, New York)

[nerice]

protag becomes side chara in next installment is probably my favourite thruline of interconnected story hell nd sometimes i like to indulge thinking abt how it would read to someone with completely fresh eyes and no context,,

the black cat story featuring reina as pov for all except one chapter, ending on the destruction of nerice, her desperate flight into the next world cycle where she is met by the songhost trio...

roa starting with jumie wandering the halls of crownpoint, full of rage and full of grief, only to stop short as she catches stray laughter. reina and [mindsong user] sharing a private little feast & jumie detests her lighthearted spirit. [qs essay cut for time] but u know they spend most of the book antagonizing one another and only soften up towards the end of it, even if it's a far cry from...

lhnh where jack claims his songhost heritage nd waits 2 be collected. recognizing reina on instinct, and instantly running afoul of jumie who accompanied her, who calls reina 'my queen' now [QS ESSAY CUT FOR TIME] nd on the flipside of the dual protag setup, sky causing an international incident at the war gathering only for her nerves to dissipate the instant jumie defuses the situation. actually the "jack is fully convinced sky is jumie's secret lovechild" red herring is impossibly valid from this perspective lmao. after a book of jumie grieving the death of her daughters, the way she steps in to protect sky despite keeping an air of distance for appearances sake. yeah. YEAH [r*bbit essay redacted for time and content] LOL

jack is on vacation thereafter dw abt it [offscreen getting tortured by faye] for a while but

shadow revenge where raiu giddily pulls lucie aside bc she's about to 'witness something cool' as sky drops in absolutely decimating a collection of shadows. and half the greenhouse. (the more things change, the more they stay the same) except sky with her hair braided and dyed dark now, flawless strength control, the long gloves get-up, [FAV OC ESSAY AVAILABLE FOR PREMIUM MEMBERS ONLY] i digress i digresssss

dream game is sort of an outlier bc it was part of the original book 1+2 combo so it retains lucie as a protag before it switches to belle halfway thru. notably jack does make his re-appearance here though and while finding a puppy with a mutilated paw means nothing to lucie, when he resumes his human form it does mean the world to belle to be reunited with her parents [tide family essay redacted for. u get the joke]

motd pulls a very funny bait and switch actually by making faye the protag and belle, post red hurting sun, into a side chara, though povs are fast and loose bc i genuinely don't know what the plot structure will be other than the linn/faye showdown lmao

and llf is a free for all that wraps up everybody's story :3c

[wiltking]

has anyone written a medieval themed space opera yet

[raayllum]

I have read a post-TTM fic in AO3 called Chosen Paths (by MindSongs), I think it's the only fic where Ezran is mad at Rayla for leaving his brother and tells her to leave Callum in order to not hurting him. What would Ezran say to Rayla, if he meet her before Callum? what do you think?

So I think there's a few key considerations, which are: Ezran's personality, his relationship with Rayla, and his relationship with Callum. I wrote a post a while ago (April 2021) about how Ezran might feel about everything in TTM.

For Ezran's personality, he gets angry less often than Callum, but when he does he has very little sympathy in the situation. For example (and for contrast), I figured going into s2 that Callum actually wouldn't be as upset, anger wise, as Ezran would about their father. When Callum finds out about Harrow, he's not happy, but he doesn't even raise his voice at Rayla. Ezran, meanwhile, is much harsher, even while Rayla is already crying. So personality wise, Ezran would definitely have some quiet judgement, but not enough to turn into lingering resentment. He holds someone like Claudia accountable, after all, but again, he's never mean spirited about anything, and we've never seen him turn his back on anyone. Not even on Viren in 3x09, and not even on Claudia at that point, either.

And, of course, Ezran cares deeply about his brother. However, Ezran also knows just how important Rayla is to Callum. (There are also precious few Ezran centric, let alone Ezran centric post ttm works, out there in general, so I think a 'lack of reaction' stems from a lack of content, not that Ezran being mad at her is a 'hot or rare take'.) If Rayla kept pulling the same stunt of coming back and leaving, then I could see Ez sitting her down with "You need to pick one and be consistent" as a sort of ultimatum, but that would be years and again, the only situation I could really see it in. (That being said, everyone is absolutely entitled to their own characterization, esp since I haven't read the fic and don't know any further context.)

But, more than anything, there's Ezran's own unique bond with Rayla to consider. She's saved his life and was willing to lose a hand for him after only a few days of friendship. More than that, Rayla was willing to stand up for Ezran against his brother, and has always taken his side. Rayla was willing to leave Callum when he was sick to be with Ezran when he was grieving. In addition to the easy trust and camaraderie they've always had, I really can't see Ezran - who is Hope (and forgiveness in many ways) personified - holding anything against Rayla permanently. And Ezran is gong to be concerned and worried about her too, being off on her own! She's his Friend, too.

So if Ezran found her before Callum did, I think he'd cycle through similar emotions as Callum, if less complicated in some ways. He'd be relieved she's alright; disappointed / upset that she left, if that, but not angry, I think, ultimately; and he'd want her to come home & come back with him, safe and sound. He doesn't have all the same context surrounding her decisions that Callum does (by virtue of being there for the Ghosting and its aftermath, etc.) but he also doesn't have the same amount of hurt wrapped up in it.

I don't think Ezran would ever think it would be better for Rayla to be Apart from either him or Callum longterm unless, again, she kept making the same mistake over and over again, but even then, Ezran would need reason to believe that he and Callum couldn't help her, and that she wasn't in serious danger in order to... kinda Give Up on her in that way, if that makes any sense. They're not just going to leave her to throw herself into danger, Callum especially, and Ezran knows this. He loves Rayla too, and knows that she isn't responsible for Callum's actions (even the ones he takes protecting either of them), and he wants them both safe and sound.

So yeah. Normally I'm a big fan of Ezran being messy, but I think it's more in character for him to still be lowkey angry that they both kept the secret about Harrow from him for so long, and like, only slightly reserved with Rayla until she's like "I know what I did wrong" post-TTM and then they're gouda, tbh.

[maychorian]

Fun fact, when she’s talking about that mass battle where she played Mindsong for half an hour, my character died and was dragged to the center of the circle where she was and she just stood over my dead body for a while until she could take a break and give me a potion.

[josiah-olson]

Chapter 1: To Catch a Bird

The cold of the night kissed at her cheeks, and she could feel the orange-yellow of the bonfire warm against her eyelids. Standing there, on the hard-packed earth beside the fire, Chavugga tried to find her balance. But her legs wavered beneath her, and her outstretched hands moved as branches in the wind. The fire crackled hungrily at her feet, and behind her Chavugga could hear the hushed voices of men and women, and the loud questions and not-so-hushed comments of children. Her mother was among them, she knew, although her voice was not—her mother only rarely talked in public, and when she did, it was for all to hear, for she was a powerful woman. 

Chavugga straightened her back, just like she had been taught, and let the breath breathe itself in and back out of her lungs as it pleased. But her mind was circling in pools of worry, listening close to the judgemental whispers behind her, and her heart pounded a dirge fit for a funeral. Or a sacrifice, she thought, for that is what this was. 

But the goddess of balance she had sworn her life to did not show her face tonight, and the blessing of wisdom was not yet received, and so focus eluded her still. The whole world will change in the morning, she knew… and that was no easy thing to forget. She would be travelling to Tavuammali in the morning, to play her part on the council. But most importantly, she would be leaving her son. Chavugga’s mother had been insistent upon that point, the city was no place for a boy his age, she had said. 

Chavugga couldn’t help but agree. In her own time there, many years ago, she had seen godlessness, violence, and hate, drugs and poverty, sin and slavery—the very worst that people were capable of, and the furthest perversions from spirit one could imagine, it was all there. But she had glimpsed also a beautiful unity like a huge bellowing choir that was all but impossible in a village as small as Mull. The nobles in their elegant halls, dressed in silks and eating the most delicate things, the temples of the Geibachev always filled with songs and dances and prayers, and the beautiful and strange things brought from half a world away to be sold at a market stall. But if the fruit was half bad, even the good must be thrown away. But her mother was right, Fazzi was an angel, pure and untouched, and to take him to the city would certainly leave him stained by some dirty touch or ungodly sight. Still, her want for him to be with her was almost more than her caution, and she would almost certainly take him along with her, if it were not for the threat of her mother’s disappointment.

Chavugga could feel eyes on her; the eyes of all of Mull. Her mother and father, and all the people she shared meals with and laughed with and cried with. The storytellers and musicians, farmers and cooks, healers and sages, and all the little children, they were all there… and their eyes… their eyes weighed heavy upon her. Soon all she could think of were the eyes. They were eyes that had seen her for so many years, and in so many roles; to some she was Chavugga the teacher of the way of Zaadu, to others she was Chavugga the mother of Fazzi. Some knew her as Chavugga who had left her husband, or Chavugga who never spoke unless spoken to. But tonight, they all knew her as Chavugga who had been summoned to the city council. 

All the eyes of Mull were upon her, and she was expected to stand there, calm and patient… and to catch a bird with her mind—it was nearly enough to bring her to tears. 

So she began again a ritual she had come to love and to hate… one by one, Chavugga forced each muscle of her body into position. 

Shaking legs straight and unmoving. Tight neck pulled away and against the crook , uncurving itself. Toes strong into the ground like roots. Jittering fingers, reaching out like straining branches. Now slow the breath down, one jagged breath after another… and finally, the heart follows, and slows. 

Everything was finally in its place, everything was straight.

And she was still at last, like a storm shoved into a bottle.

But still, there was no bird. Since they first began the bonfire, she had been standing there… when the sun was still setting, the heat of day still lingering like an aftertaste, and the meal had not yet been finished. Now… the last rays of sunlight had slipped away hours ago, the bones of supper had been thrown to the dogs, and her cheeks grew cold despite the fire. 

And Chavugga was nowhere closer to her goal. 

To catch a bird, that is all she needed to do. 

And so she reached out for the hundredth time, moving her mind, her consciousness, forward. She sent out a feeling of joy into the open air, drawing on a favorite memory of her son. In the memory, Chavugga sat beside the Great River, as Fazzi, barely walking then, splashed joyfully in the peaceful, muddy shallows. Joy, joy, joy, thought Chavugga. But still no bird appeared. The tears welled up at the corners of her eyes. It is time to give up, she caught herself thinking. I’ll be fine without the blessing, I’ve always been fine.

But she pulled back her tears, for she was a strong woman, and strong women don’t cry.

Her father would understand if she didn’t catch it, if she didn’t get the blessing—he had told her as much earlier, when he had pulled her aside as the wood for the fire was being stacked. I gave you my blessing when you first came to our home, he had said, and there are no take-backs with blessings… no matter what mischief you get yourself into, or however many birds you don’t catch. 

No, it was her mother who would be disappointed, and she would make her disappointment known—not with her words, but with her gaze. She was a powerful woman, a strong woman, with an aura that followed her like the smell of smoke. Nobody ever mentioned Wauri without saying that she was powerful, like it was a part of her name. Wauri, the Powerful Woman. Chavugga admired her for that, to have a reputation that preceded her, a smoky presence that filled rooms when she entered. But to be the daughter of a woman like that… it was not easy, and even as a grown woman and a mother herself, she feared Wauri’s disappointment like a curse without cure. 

A wave washed over her like warm water—a warmth she welcomed just then to wash away the scent of her mother’s sure-to-come disappointment. The wave had a name, and it was Fazzi. Her son, much like his grandmother, could fill a room with his power, although his was of a different sort. Chavugga had watched him lull sobbing and blubbering mourners at a funeral until they were huddled together in silent compassion. She had, on many occasions, felt him turn her own anger aside as he filled her with his child-like joy, and she had woken every morning since his birth to the beautiful mindsong he always sung as he slept; a happy wonder so strong and pure and unashamed that it hurt. People said that he was weak of mind because he still acted in ways one would expect from a boy half his age, but Chavugga knew there was nothing further from the truth; his mind was stronger than any other she had felt—too strong for his own good, she often thought.  

With the rising wave of Fazzi’s mindsong, Chavugga felt the air flutter in front of her face, and she knew that he had brought the bird to her. It took all of her control to swallow the laughter in her throat—such excitement filled her that she was likely to burst. Chavugga opened her mouth, focusing her joy upon the bird, and using it to wrap around her prey like a hooked claw at its back. Steady… steady… She felt feathers on her tongue, and knew that it was time.

Her mouth snapped shut, and the fluttering became strong and desperate and wild, then it slowed… then stilled. Hot, salty blood filled her mouth, as cheering filled the world around her. The taste of the blood filled her with something burning—as if the fire itself had leapt inside of her and set her aflame. When she opened her eyes, it was to a different world than the one she had left all those hours ago. 

The eyes of everyone in the village were upon her, staring as if seeing her for the very first time. And they had fallen silent, as silent as rushes beside still water. But their eyes… in their eyes she saw admiration. She was no longer just Chavugga the mother, or Chavugga the teacher, or even Chavugga the one who had been summoned. Now, she was Chavugga the blessed, and not a single eye that looked upon her then seemed to see otherwise. Even her mother, from whom a compliment or even a smile was a rare sight, gave Chavugga a gentle nod of recognition when their gazes crossed. She felt so beautiful and loved in the midst of those eyes, if only she could stay there forever… she surely would. 

Her father came to her, holding his cane, but not leaning on it—he was a proud man, and said he needed no support other than from his wife, his daughter, and his god. Even so, he walked always with the cane, more to keep Wauri from scolding him than for his own safety. The dreaded locks of his hair bounced with each step as he drew near, drumming against his chest. He smiled at Chavugga, the slivers of his eyes pressing happily aside to make room for his larger-than-life smile. 

“My daughter,” he whispered, “You already have wisdom in your head, balance in your feet, and you couldn’t escape my love if you wanted to, but I’ll bless you with these things every day if that’s what it takes for you to see it for yourself.” Then he pointed to the bird, still hanging from Chavugga’s mouth. “Now, spit that out. As your mother would say—you don’t know where it’s been.”

Chavugga cupped his cheeks in her hands, and would have given him a kiss if not for the bird in her mouth. She knelt beside the fire to let the bird fall into flames. They engulfed the creature, and Chavugga watched through a veil of flame as the strands of the feathers curled up, and the yellow and blue that it wore so regally turned into a black shroud in a matter of seconds. 

She felt a drop of warm water on her forehead. Through the flames, she could see Fazzi sitting apart from the others. He held his body loose, slouching—a posture Chavugga had scolded him for a thousand times. Lil Faz, his lizard, crawled across his arm, licking at a line of syrup Fazzi would continuously smear there whenever Chavugga wasn’t looking. His hair was messy, his pants dirty, and his shirt was on inside-out again, but right then Chavugga couldn’t be upset about even those things. He was her son, and he loved her. And she would never have caught that bird if it were not for him.

Fazzi rubbed at his forehead. It took up half of his face, and was always bothering him, he said. Some days, it felt heavy, and it was difficult to keep his head up, while other days it was a thunderstorm of headaches. At other times, he swore it felt fragile, like it was a great hollow thing that would someday break open.

-----

As they walked back to their hut together, hand in hand, and their feet stepping in sync, Chavugga realized she couldn’t go to the city without him. If she could not catch a bird on her own… then how would she bring balance to the city? 

No, she wouldn’t leave him… she coudn’t. They hadn’t slept apart since the day he was born, and she would lose her mind if she left him behind, she surely would. 

She gave his hand a squeeze. “Thank you,” she said. Fazzi’s huge hazel eyes stared up at her, like he hadn’t the slightest clue why she was thanking him. Lil Faz was stuck to his cheek, licking at the corner of his eye. Fazzi let out a loud laugh, and pulled the lizard away. 

“For helping me with the bird, Fazzi,” Chavugga explained, stroking his hand with her thumb. “I’d give you some of the blessing if I could.”

Fazzi laughed at the idea. “Your blessing, Amma? You want to cut it up like a cake?”

“Yes, Fazzi. I want to have a hundred little pieces so that I can make it last forever… and share it with you too!” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “—but I’m not so sure the geds will allow us… I guess we’ll have to ask them when we go to the city.”

“We?” asked Fazzi, his mouth hung open in disbelief. 

She nodded. Yes, she thought. It didn’t matter what anyone else said. Why shouldn’t she be with her son? She was his mother. She would take him with her, she decided then, and not even her own mother would be able to stop her, although she was sure to try.

-----

Chavugga spent the night awake. 

Her stomach was twisted into knots, her heart thumping, and besides… she needed to pack her’s and Fazzi’s belongings. But even after the bags had been packed and repacked, her things neatly folded and put in their places, and she had tried to cure her nervousness with both a cup of hot tea and a dozen different positions that the sages claimed brought peace of mind, still her body was restless. 

A waking dream filled her mind. In it, she was surrounded by huge stone people, their booming voices filled the air with judgement, and their serious and sullen faces lined up by the hundreds. And there she stood, in the center of them all… but she was no more than a little child, bare-footed, flat-chested, and with a voice that even when she yelled was no more than a quiet croaking whisper. And she was alone, and Fazzi and her mother and father were nowhere to be seen, and even her student Jaceira had abandoned her. The stone totems began to fall upon her, crumbling at their bases. But she was so small and so alone, that she did not even bother to run away. She could have run, if only someone had been there beside her in the dream. But there was not, and so she was buried in a mountain of stone and dust. 

Chavugga blinked the dream away and finished the last sip of her tea. Fazzi was in a deep and dream-filled sleep, and the fire she had made to heat her tea had slowed to pulsing embers, but Chavugga was no closer to sleep than she had been before. She stomped out the embers, threw on a dark, hooded shawl, and planted a kiss on Fazzi’s forehead. He rolled over and giggled in his sleep. His was ever a peaceful sleep—the sort that always seemed to escape Chavugga. She tucked his bare feet back under the covers, and left the hut.

The moon was huge tonight, as plump as a cherry. The people of Tavuammali called it the Eye of Iogwan, Chavugga remembered—one of the most recent creations of the ged makers of the Geibachev. But here in the mountain, where the geds were old and not made, the world was simple and slow , and people were no more and no less than they seemed, the moon was just that… a moon. 

Chavugga felt her before she saw her—a smoky haze that begged her to hush before the thought of a word even came to her mind. Her mother, Wauri, the Powerful Woman, was seated cross-legged on the stump of an ancient tree, bathed in the white light of the moon. Her eyes were shut tight, and her hand stroked the pendant of Zaadu, a simple wooden coin hung on a string. Her eyes snapped open when Chavugga took a step her way.

“Chacha,” she said, with a labored smile. 

“It’s late, Mother.”

“I was about to say the same,” said Wauri. “But when has my daughter ever slept well before a big day? I thought some prayer would be welcome. Stack the blessings high, they say.” She studied her daughter, wrapped solemnly in her shawl. “Nightmares?”

Chavugga shrugged. “Scary nothings, Mother. I just wish I could sleep.”

“Sleep comes only to those who do not search for it, and dreams are given to us always for a reason, Chacha.”

Dreams maybe, thought Chavugga, but nightmares bring nothing but pain. However, she held her silence, and went to sit on the ground at the roots of her mother’s stump. 

“You’re going to miss him, I know,” said her mother. “That doesn’t make you a bad mother. It makes you a good one. Your father and I missed you so badly when you ran off to attend Tavu. I can tell you this, though… I think in the end some distance is good. You mustn’t worry about Fazzi. He is not much younger than you were when you ran off to the city, and he is smart and strong besides. And I promise you I won’t let him out of my sight.” Wauri smiled softly. “How does that sound, Chacha?”

Chavugga looked to the ground, pulling up a handful of grass, roots and all, from the dry soil. “I’m taking him with me, Mother.”

She waited for Wauri to shout, to begin to lecture her, to call her a fool. But she was met only by silence, the distant howls and calls of forest creatures of the night, and the near-blinding light of the moon.

Finally, Chavugga looked up. From here, her mother was silhouetted by the moon, turning her face an impossible dark. She could see nothing of her mother’s face, but her head nodded slowly in thought. “Very well,” she muttered finally. “Now go and get some sleep, darling, and I will keep you in my prayers.”

Chavugga gulped down her fear, it went down hard in her throat, like eating sand. She whispered a goodnight to her mother’s silhouette, and excused herself. Her heart still beat like a mad drum, and her hands shook inwardly. She had been ready to fight, but there was nothing to fight now. 

Her mother’s acceptance of her decision only made her feel guilty. Had she chosen wrongly? What if something happened to Fazzi?

“They say that a farmer once came before The Prophet Azmaji,” said Wauri. 

Chavugga stopped and looked back. She thought she could see the silver glint of tears on her mother’s cheeks, but they vanished with the wave of her sleeve, like some magic trick, and then she couldn’t be sure if they ever had been there to begin with. 

“He carried sacks of seeds ready to plant, and asked The Prophet where the wisest place was to sow…” Wauri became quiet, letting out a long, slow breath.

She didn’t need to finish the tale, for Chavugga knew it well. Azmaji had walked over, and poked holes in the sacks, saying, not in there.

Chavugga wiped her own eyes. But there were no tears, for she was strong. It was never her mother’s anger she had feared, it was her disappointment… her judgement. 

And there, in the midst of that story, it had shown its face.

“I’m taking him with me, Mother.”

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

OC Voice Claims

Tagged by @enchantment1385! I wanted to work on this for so long but never had the time to do some research for my OCs that don’t have face claims or have designs that make it challenging to find simple face claims because all my characters with face claims will also be voiced by said face claim. XD

So here I go! It took me long enough but I finally finished this post. XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mitsuko Kurosawa

At first I wasn’t sure what kind of voice I was looking for with Mitsuko, because I imagined her mainly have this calm, collected tone that could be mistaken for tranquil at times but could immediately become fierce and unyielding in a blink in an eye. And I found that in FE: Three Houses with the character Lady Rhea.

But since Mitsuko is a trained and skilled singer, I can see Rhea’s VA work for her singing like in this video: 

And I also imagined her singing voice sounding much like the singer from “The Mindsong” by Suidakra:

Suzume Ishikawa

The more I watch Lili Reinhart as Betty Cooper in Riverdale doing badass things, solving mysterious, kicking ass, and taking names, the more I can envision her voice acting as Suzume, who is also a detective and crime fighter. She doesn’t take shit and has a darker side, one that Lili Reinhart is more than capable of projecting. 

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2hbWtVCTq7A

Lyra Morgenstern

After playing FFXIV for so long, I noticed there were some really good voices/voice actors and the voice for Y’shtola in Heavensward, Stormblood, and Shadowbringers really struck my fancy. The more I listened to her voice, the sooner it conveyed to me on what I imagined the voice of Lyra and Ilmatar, her past goddess self, to sound like. 

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LUSn7KQ10bs

Sora Kurosawa

I finally found a voice claim for her: the voice actor for Dorothea in FE: Three Houses. Earlier, in the first support conversations I had with her, I didn’t think too much of it because I thought, “Naw, I couldn’t come up with another possible voice claim from another person/character from this game so soon!” But the when I heard her tone through other emotions, like when Dorothea was angry, resentful, annoyed, or downright flirty, I started to see right away how similar or completely alike her voice to what I had in mind for Sora. So I attached two of Dorothea’s support conversations with two different characters that ended up sealing the deal for me.   

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUZtniHVLck

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-fBvImWiSmM

Jillian Norwood

I did have a face claim (Eleanor Tomlinson) for her but I had to share the video that sealed my decision when I heard the actress sing in Poldark:

Before I figured out a face or voice claim for Jillian, I already imagined in my head that she knew how to sing well and at least had a teacher who instructed her how to use her voice for different songs and notes. It was one of the more conventional, ladylike pastimes she had and actually enjoyed and her singing made her mother happy, especially in the stormy days of her first marriage. So it worked out really well that the face claim I was partial to for Jillian also had such a beautiful, haunting voice for this song. 

[elliepensom]

4) Sustainable Music Practice - Music Therapy

Following on from my last post, I want to look at the benefits music therapy has on the wider clientele.

How does Music Therapy help?

The article above details the differences between just learning music and music therapy. Music is one of the few activities that fully engages the majority of our brain at once. As it engages your brain, you release hormones like Dopamine (the reward hormone), which creates positive feelings within our brain, which in turn helps strengthen our neural pathways. This is particularly helpful in cases with dementia patients.

Mindsong: (Sustainable work experience)

My project will involve me going into voluntary work within my local community to help the above charity.

Mindsong is a charity that works within care homes around Gloucestershire that aims to help people suffering with dementia through music. Most of the people that help with Mindsong are volunteers and not qualified music therapists.

The sessions in Mindsong involve group singing activities. Volunteers come in and sit with residents, their carers and family members and lead group singing sessions, containing songs the residents will know and/or recognise the tunes of.

What these volunteers help with, show how you don't need to be a music therapist or necessarily a musician to make a difference and help a range of people that are suffering with dementia related issues.

Career options:

Further research has led me to look into more career options you can do once qualifying as a therapist.

To work as a music therapist, you need to have a Music degree, or an undergraduate degree in a relevant field of work with a high musical knowledge (e.g. grade 8 instrument playing standard). After the undergraduate degree, you need an approved masters qualification specialising in music therapy, to which you then need to register with the Health and Care Professions Council.

After this application process, you are allowed to start professional work in this part of the medical industry.

NHS Music Therapy

Below is a list taken from the NHS Careers page on what Skills and qualities are needed to become a music therapist wishing the company:

'a high level of musicianship including improvisation skills

excellent communication skills

creativity, intuition and imagination

an ability to relate to people from all backgrounds and to provide a safe environment

flexibility, adaptability and openness

resourcefulness

a non-judgemental approach

emotional strength and resilience

sensitivity and maturity and to be able to reflect on their own emotions – NHS requirements music therapy'

Looking at this list and the requirements of this career, has allowed me to pin-point areas where I can develop my employability and work on my professional portfolio.

[souvereignsharing]

FormKeepers – Peoples that have kept safe perceptions and reality views

FormKeepers – Peoples that have kept safe perceptions and reality views

When we navigate beyond the realm of our current age – the glorification of mind – we can (when we are willing) retrieve the wisdom gems, spirited breadcrumbs and perceptions of peoples across fast spaces of times who retained, retrieved, rekindled and remembered the original story.This story when Syntropy is comprehended blends often effortlessly into a syntropic mindsong wherein our original…