By Nicholas Hooper
Christmas has come and gone and a new dawn chills that sky. The blackbird and the robin sing and a repeated tack, tack, tack from the smallest bird tells of trouble. Gifts are given and received. Hugs are allowed… mostly. The world is changed – colder, more distant. But, you say, this is the warmest Christmas in three years. Our first parties warmed the frying pan of our house – guests like eggs, broke into an omelette of conviviality and youths snuggled up on our sofa. But the fear of illness remains – a cold can be serious now. Immune systems untrained by isolation are no match for the eager millions of germs, viruses and infections looking for a human home.
So take my hand now, grasp my shoulder, come close, deny fear its grip and go forward into the new dawn of birth with a song of love in your heart. Let the world continue its process of swirling microscopic life and let that fear dangle on a chain outside your door, well away from the heart of your home, and breathe the joy of closeness, the joy of this infant’s dawn.
“Every morning at around 5am I get up and go down to my studio. After a short meditation I write down whatever is in my head, giving myself fifteen minutes to do so. Then moving over to the piano (or a more portable instrument like my Ukulele when I'm away), I improvise and record a piece of music inspired by whatever words I just wrote. It is a great way of keeping both my writing and my composing going and I call these small creations Dawnings. They are mostly unedited, like sketches, so that they keep that fresh feeling of an early morning discovery.”
— Nick Hooper