Finding One's Voice

Particularly after suffering loss

How does one go on? Sometimes it is best to remain silent in the face of the enormity of life and its brief nature. We are fortunate to be able to draw on the past to understand our present and just how precious our existence is. It is like Nietzsche once is said to have observed - “The living are merely a sub-species of the dead - and a very rare sub-species at that!” - I have to find the original German.

Reanimating the Dead and Giving them Voice in the Bunker

How can we not be shaken by our mortality? I remember reading “The Denial of Death” by Ernest Becker at the recommendation of my friend, Jim, who soon after was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and has since died. I knew of the book from “Annie Hall” which starred the late Diane Keaton in the title role. She was handing Woody Allen back books as their characters were breaking up saying “All the books with “Death” in the title are yours.” His retort was “It’s a very important topic!” …or words to that effect. I haven’t quite brought myself to watch it again.

I do recall watching another of their films together though. “Love and Death” and what a prize that was. I won’t ruin it for any of you who haven’t seen it. I was a fan from years ago and showed it to my friend, Annie Peters alongside “Dead Man” starring Johnny Depp as a young man named “William Blake.” Mistaken for the poet by a lone American Indian who went by the name “Nobody,” he has a journey to take. Jim Jarmusch directs.

I digress. I often do. What’s the point? Finding ones voice. Giving voice to the dead. The mission of the Harold B. Gill Foundation, LLC, of which “Harrowings” is the publishing arm, is to find, collect, preserve, and protect the voices of the Harold B. Gills who have graced this planet with our presence and, as the last man of the three standing, I feel that I am doing that.

It’s been a journey. It started out with “Getting Acquainted” which featured a picture of me taken by an acquaintance on the day of my late father’s funeral. I had delivered the eulogy and then driven directly back to DC so that I could be at the Black Cat:

A moment after the picture was snapped, the person sitting to my right asked, “Are you famous?” I said “More like notorious.” As the post intimates, we’ll see if this Substack bears me out. After all, we are all borne out eventually. Seems we are on a theme here.

On October 22, I attempted a Business Plan and it still has merit, so I’ll toss it in here as well:

I’ve deviated from it in making the focus more about my own healing. I’ve been trying to find my voice through working with a vocal coach. I spent a few months in the winter of 2024/25 into the spring of this year attempting to lay the foundations for a kind of podcast on the healing power of music and taking care of ourselves as musicians. I ended up backing out of that rather precipitously. My own self-confidence is at fault there. My vocal coach has been very helpful and kind in letting me voice my grief. We started out with King Crimson’s “Epitaph” and “Walking On Air” which I think are two that work together even though separated by many years.

I’d like to have this played at my funeral.

These speak for themselves. It’s a good sample of where I am in working on my voice.

The centerpiece of my last session with

Sunny Trippel

was “Electricity” by Joni Mitchell:

This one’s lyrics are worth quoting:

The minus is loveless, he talks to the land
And the leaves fall and the pond over-ices
She don’t know the system, plus she don’t understand
She’s got all the wrong fuses and splices
She’s not going to fix it up, too easy

The masking tape tangles, it’s sticky and black
And the copper proud-headed Queen Lizzie
Conducts little charges that don’t get charged back
Well, the technical manual’s busy
She’s not going to fix it up, too easy

And she holds out her flashlight, and she shines it on me
She wants me to tell her what the trouble might be
Well, I’m learning, it’s peaceful with a good dog and some trees
Out of touch with the breakdown of this century
They’re not going to fix it up, too easy

We once loved together and we floodlit that time
Input, output, electricity
But the lines overloaded and the sparks started flying
And the loose wires were lashing out at me
She’s not going to fix that up, too easy

But she holds out her candle and she shines it in
And she begs him to show her how to fix it again
While the song that he sang her to soothe her to sleep
Runs all through her circuits like a heartbeat
She’s not going to fix it up, too easy

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Joni Mitchell

Electricity lyrics © Reservoir Media Music, Crazy Crow Music

Joni will always hold a special place in my memory as my girlfriend as an undergraduate was a talented guitarist and singer. She was particularly good at Joni’s music. I’m grateful for having had that experience.

The thing is, even now, a full 40 years later, I’m not too much better, I find. The damage done has been extensive, and, even though I am fairly healthy for my age, the emotional turmoil is still there and hasn’t healed yet. It takes something to say that.

Nevertheless, I am making an effort to do something about it. We know it is down to us:

I can’t really say it much better than Joni does and I have known this for 40 years plus.

It’s the truth still.

So it goes, my friends. I’ll be digging down deep to get to the truth of the matter.

Onward!

Click a button. Any button…