There’s an unfinished beauty to this composition. It arose unexpectedly and spontaneously during a gathering one summer in a friend’s house in London. We had just experienced an inspiring session of storytelling and songwriting, and the next day we invited some other musicians and singers to join us. One of them, Jenny, brought with her a song that had literally turned up in her just as she was leaving home. So there we were on the back lawn – different ages, nationalities, backgrounds – as softly, slowly, each person began to play their instrument or sing as we listened and got drawn into the gentle and enigmatic nature of the song’s composition. Jenny felt the song was not hers – or anyone’s – but rather, something else’s song. Its essence did not belong to anyone, rather it was something that arose that was maybe calling to be released and listened to. 

At first we were fighting against an odd resistance – a sense that this song was not going to surrender to us – it did not want to be crafted or patted into place. We were patient, nudging gently until suddenly something clicked and the song began to gather and blossom, creating a compelling and haunting atmosphere. It seemed to be hovering somewhere above our heads, until everyone chimed in and blended the melodies into one clear tune, with harp, guitar, flute, mouth harmonica and violin harmonizing and liberating the beauty within the words. It was like something else was looking through our eyes…

A few months later we recorded several different versions of the song, which enhanced this feeling of something hovering above our heads, behind our eyes, like an image before it gets into focus. Then the questions arrived,  one of which was, “Is something else thinking, feeling, looking through me? If so, what is it?”