As our next Open House approaches, I’d like to remember this beautiful evening many of you got to witness last month. The uniqueness of Los Angeles is that nearly everyone here is an enigmatic star from their own corner of the universe, which makes curating these nights a bit of fun. I recently met Layv, who’s immersed their life into the understanding, building, and performing of the West-African Ngoni. Layv brought several of his handmade harps to accompany Daniel and I. And if it couldn’t get any better, we were joined by my dear friend Brenton Zola – another well-traveled star and master of words – who guided us with great care through a beautiful array of spoken poetry.
Here’s a few minutes from the evening finale. While you’re listening, enjoy a bit of Brenton’s poem below, which he performed earlier in the evening.
The mayfly asked the man:
What does it feel like to live for thousands of days?
For we only get one. Days must feel like an eternity
The man said to the mayfly:
What feels like an eternity for you is but an instant for us.
We traffic in days. Idle them away.
Spend them as if they were nothing.
Then the man turned and asked the moon:
What does it like to exist for countless centuries? A century must feel like an eternity
The moon said:
A century is but an instant for us. What seems like an eternity is gone as quickly as the stone crumbles to dust.
Then the moon turned and asked the universe:
What is it like to live for endless epochs? They must feel like an eternity
The universe said:
An epoch passes in an instant.
But not even I know eternity.
For I will exist forever.
Not even I am immune to change.
When all the wars have been fought and all the loves have been loved and all of the galaxies have collapsed into themselves, there will remain nothing but one final light. The last remnant of proof that anything ever was.
That's why we create: Because at the end, there will be only memory, the striving to preserve the meaning of what was while everything that is slows to absolute zero.
Until the light goes out.
- Brenton Zola, The Last Light
Our next Open House is coming up. See you there?