In the Hour of Wind
by Evan Shornstein
All hail the 0.032 oz Pseudacris Crucifer! The annual peeper frog marks the beginning of spring. The otherworldly chorus of 3,000 frogs in the moonlight. The future is uncertain but there are 3,000 frogs singing in the moonlight! The darkness is haunting but there are 3,000 frogs singing in the moonlight! This kind of phenomena inspires a different kind of thinking. One that is not bound by “should bes,” “should haves,” or “what ifs.” One that is free from trajectories and agendas. Indifferent to aesthetic and vocabulary. It is visceral. It is magnificent. It doesn’t stop for the world. Will the world stop for it? Sure, but only against its will and for how long? 3,000 frogs singing in the moonlight! That is reality, not an “escape.” How do we get back to that reality? If we don’t go back, we won’t go at all.
These frogs were present in the mind. They were the audience. They inspired good work! The work was good because it was for the frogs, not the kale. Not the bread. Not the mazuma. It came to fruition via love and focus.
All hail the mighty spring gales! A bit larger and a bit more foreboding. A hollow howl, resonant amongst the forest. 60 miles in diameter. 90 days in length. A banding of forces larger than life. Or rather, larger than humans. Does it care for us? Yes. The song of the wind does not discriminate. It is free for all who listen.
So I wrote for the wind and its forces carried me. A reservoir of pure hum, both planetary and solar. Thank you for your wisdom! Your lessons have proved most vital. We are vulnerable and we are temporary but we are present in this moment. In the hour of wind. How could we return to a broken system? How could we forget the wind? How could we forget 3,000 frogs singing in the moonlight?
The lessons are omnipresent. Powered through infinite bandwidth and a presence beyond periphery. This is multi-dimensional work. It is slow moving and sedimentary. It requires patience and abandon of all expectation. A completely different way of thinking. Void of ego. Abstract at a glance but rock solid and grounded with intent. Accessible to everyone everywhere. Is it widely encouraged? Sadly, no. It is simply inconvenient. The gratification is perpendicular and the validation is within. It is deemed obsolete. Preached and practiced by those “out to lunch.”
So I propose the following: by law, the inventors of priorities, the propaganders, the possessors of power, should spend one full day immersed in mother nature’s outstanding presence. A mandatory twenty-four hours, each and every week. No aid from incandescence. No guidance from 1011100100s. Basic shelter and nutrients provided but telecommunication withdrawn. This is not to be confused with extra vacation time. This is mandatory stillness for those in power to re-engage with a thinking from the heart. A mandatory call to nature. A context provided by soil. One thousand, four hundred forty minutes outside the comfort zone. Free from the confines of cement and light emitting diodes. A step into the woodland under the sky. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nothing to say. Nothing to control. You are here for the gloaming. Both haunted and nurtured by night. You are vulnerable and you are temporary but you are present in this moment. If you listen ever so carefully, you will hear the final remnants of spring’s last standing peeper, singing in the moonlight.
Evan Shornstein is a musician, producer and DJ based in New York. He works under the solo musical moniker Photay, a balancing act of analog and digital, of natural and synthetic. Evan has spent the last 5 years performing around the world in cities such as Tokyo, Moscow, Mumbai and beyond. His latest record, Waking Hours, was released June 12th, 2020 on Mexican Summer.
