The Sun, The Moon And The Wandering Stars

A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to – Gandalf, via JRR Tolkein

When we read magical fiction, we witness characters whose spells have dramatic effects on reality: in one universe Ged saves a town by summoning fog, in another Quentin turns into a goose to migrate for winter study. Back in this earthly plane, magicians have more modest ambitions. Yes, we forage herbs, shape talismans, and perform unusual gestures but we don’t expect to break commonly agreed upon rules of physics. Instead, we look for an increase in the mysterious coincidences (“synchronicities”) around us. Like chance encounters in coffee shops that lead, through a sequence of unpredictable consequences, to meeting the loves of our lives.

But what if we’re missing out on these unpredictable coincidences?

What if we’re arriving 5 minutes too late in one place and 5 minutes too early in another, because of some low level out-of-tuneness with reality itself?

To increase the positive synchronicities in your life (and mine), I composed “The Sun, The Moon And The Wandering Stars”. It stands on these two axioms:

1. Music is powerful magic.
2. The planetary archetypes are fundamental correspondences.

In the same way a spell might see us using the physical cooling of a domestic freezer to represent cooling off someone’s unwanted attention, I’m wielding music here to bring about an increase in synchronicous experience itself. Each track conjuring a field of intention suitable for its planetary namesake.

I make such bold claims about the power of music in this domain because when seen closely, music is literally made up of millions of tiny synchronicities. In rhythm, a drummer or conductor keeps time for the other musicians, transmitting the pulse to every player. Harmony obeys the same laws at a different scale. If you could zoom in and watch the vocal chords of a choir in slow motion, you would see them move back and forth in perfect time.

Carolyn Elliott used to say that we’re doing magic all the time. Just most of it is unconcious, ineffective magic: routine complaints and rigid patterns. In parallel, whole books have been devoted to the idea that the invention of modern equal temperament - the constraint of musical notes to the piano grid - ruined harmony. It’s neither conspiracy, nor woo-woo. In a very real way, something has been slightly off ever since.

Are you always perfectly on time? Is your life as full of mysterious and unpredictable coincidences as you would like? Is it a stretch to believe that by listening to these pieces, whose carefully curated meters and tunings cascade into countless millions of tiny alignments, you could connect more coherently with the higher power(s) in your life?

Why not try it out - after all, what’s the best that could happen?