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jessephotocopyAll best wishes for the New Year to my Dear Readers.

New Year’s Eve─2016─and I’m sick with  stomach flue, or some approximation of that ailment. But I’m feeling good enough, for now, to want to post another lyric on my lyrics page. I’ll put it here as a blog first as my little contribution and acknowledgement of the New Year. Hope you won’t mind a bit longer than usual introduction to the lyric; I think it will aid in the reading of it.

Lilasuka is out grocery shopping with her son, Narottama, and his wife Lyndsey (visiting from Portland). Tomorrow we’ll be celebrating Christmas at our house with them as well as my three, and their five, collective children. They’re all doing mostly wellrelatively (pun intended and both meanings implied) speaking.

My Dad’s gone several years now. Mom’s doing mostly well and is cheerful, for the most part, and even jolly frequently though she has, in the last couple of years, had to relinquish her house and car and move into an assisted living facility. It’s a good one, as those places go and it’s in her home town so she knows all the others there.

I’ve been married to Lilasuka now for fifteen or sixteen yearsI’m not at all good with dates. They’ve been, in many ways, the best of my years. We’ve lived just outside of the Krsna community for the last few of these; it was a returning home for her. Myself, I have very few long time friends. I’m sad about that. Apparently, things in common have fallen away with absence. My most dear rescuer/benefactor/spiritual Master has never left me, has tirelessly followed me around, even when I neglected to follow Him or His behests.

But so much sadness and pain over the years from broken marriages and separated family and friends. I’ve written so many songs and poems in dealing with these things, in attempt to make them “larger that life”. Because life can so easily become small and weak. So I’ve made anthems to the tragic. I know I’m not alone in that endeavor.

Once, Master Kirpal Singh was sitting with some disciples and one of them said to Him: “Master, thank You for everything.” and Master looked at the disciple and said, “for Everything?” The disciple had to reflect for a moment, but then replied in the affirmative.

So that is the spirit of my song here, A Grateful Man (Yes, for everything). The word vichorde, in the lyrics, is a form of the Punjabi term for separation.

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A Grateful Man

          Jesse S. Hanson

Vichorde, vichorde; I’ve been in love for so long
My colorful life has gone grey; I know there’s things I’m doin’ wrong
But… someday my ship come in; my confidence is not misplaced
This is the song of a grateful man, for every trial that I’ve faced

 As I look out on these misty hills; so many things they call to mind
A man goes where his Maker wills, and then he leaves it all behind
A wisp of smoke in a lonesome dream, though it seems quite strange and real
I sing this You this song, a grateful man, for every sorrow I’ve been made to feel

              Once again I’m gone to pieces
              In the face of everything that I can see
              My mind has always done just as it pleases
              Unfaithful mind, I don’t know how you can be
             
              Once again I’m gone to pieces
              In the face of everything that I believe
              My mind has always gone just where it pleases
              Unfaithful mind, I don’t know how you can be

Vichorde, vichorde; He separates the night and day
I feel that I’ve been cast away, so long ago but who can say
In the market place or on a desert island, if by chance our paths should cross
I’ll sing you this song of a grateful man for everything that I’ve lost

Vichorde, vichorde; I’ve been in love for so long
My colorful life has gone grey; I know there’s things I’m doin’ wrong
But… someday my ship come in; my confidence is not misplaced
This is the song of a grateful man, for every trial that I’ve faced

 

 

 

 

 

Jesse and friends on couch

Wow, I published this without a title. If forgetfulness was the goal, I’d probably be quite successful.

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As stated in a previous post, my upcoming memoir and my upcoming collection of song lyrics and poetry is now an upcoming work of the two as one.
So, in this post I’ve included both a song lyric and a poem:

The lyric is full of the gloom of winter. It has a pretty and melancholy little finger picking melody which carries it along I think. I hope readers will be able to appreciate it standing alone here.
Yet it doesn’t entirely stand alone, as the poem is a hopeful one of a spiritual Springtime.

As always, I really appreciate your coming by to read. Please leave a comment if your so inclined.     Namaste, jesse

p.s. The photo is from Seattle in my street musician days, back in the 70’s.

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Winter
(a song lyric)

Every day I have to come back
Every day I have to bring myself back
from this love or some other
from my cold-hearted brother
the untrue friend

We spend these years together
We search for God and then He finds us
Yet now you write and call me never
You fill the empty miles on this crowded bus
with all this nothing to discuss
fair weather, fair weather

Every day I have to wake up
Every day I have to shake myself up
from this love or the last
from all daydreams of the past
      the faithless lover

With the innocence of the intimate
in the spring we planted a child
In expectation of the benefit
we believe that nature has smiled
but your heart is never reconciled
and that will mean the end of it.

Every day I have to come clean
Every day I must admit what I’ve seen
of this love and all the rest
No love can pass the test
     the false God

creates the hope that lasts so long
as we dance by the midnight oil
as we sing the traveler’s song
where in the garden of  love we toil
where we grow like dreams in the fertile soil
until the winter comes along

Every day I have to write a verse
Every day I have to fight the curse
of this lie and every one
for the truth that must begun
      for the only one

Only the hopeless have reason to hope
Only the lost can be found
When finally we come to the end of our rope
at the end of the world there is a sound
something to stand on when feet leave the ground
some light in the darkest… where we grope.

Love Like the Spring
(a poem)

208

Baba Ram Singh Ji of Bangalore giving darshan to a four-legged friend

Maybe now Spring will come, now that news of You has preceded
Winter has been left with all the burden
he was given no choice
he could give but little comfort, yet he gave what was needed

We’ve dreamt of you in colors white and true and pure
We’ve imagined You—we didn’t know who You were
when we would go to bed crying from the cold
when we’d wake up, still dying from growing old

Are these the days of old, or is the world yet young?
For all we know, we’re in the dark
just primitives around the fire
all simulation, full of wow and flutter
ending lonely, homeless, reduced to mutter
while the world races along on fuel and spark

When my Master left, I had not yet begun
I stood alone on the hot sand beneath the burning sun
I turned stupidly, confused, and in all directions
not another living soul to understand my objections

When Winter came, it was good to be buried
under the snow so deep, under the frozen grass
until the longing could stir again
But as a seeker I have no skills
I go this way and that; so vulnerable against strong wills
But could my weakness prove to be Your strength at last?

You begged Him to accept that man on the end
who had consumed alcohol and meat, so then
Maybe, for me too, You could put such a request
that could soften His heart—since I can’t pass the test
since I’ve never become strong like the rest
since all my failures, I’ve confessed

Maybe You will appear like the Spring
bringing the sun and the rain in contrast
over the windswept hills of this time
Maybe love will have no choice
but to sing of my pain and loss with Your voice
but to answer with the future and to leave behind the past

 

           

Dear Readers,      This is a re-post from The BlueHome Blog (the blog I write for bluehomeartworks.com). If you follow that link you can read about BlueHome Artworks, which is—in a nutshell—a consignment outlet in support of the artists and craftspersons in the New Vrindavan, West Virginia community and surrounding area.

I just wanted to share the post here also, as it relates and is important to me personally, as a songwriter, musician, and poet. I hope you’ll enjoy the read, and if you’re local, come out and join us. As always, thanks for visiting my blog, and please leave a comment if so inclined.   Namaste, jesse

The BlueHome Artworks Tea House Project

The following is a blog in two parts:
The first part serves as an announcement of an event that will be held bi-monthly in New Vrindavan.
The second part is Lilasuka’s article (Lilasuka—as the Communications Director for New Vrindavan—writes most of the NV news articles) in the Brijabasi Spirit Blog. I’ve simply re-posted that blog article.

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Jaya Rishi & Devananda Pundit

Thakur, Sadaruci, and Jason

Dearest Friends and Devotees,

Jesse and Lilasuka Hanson would like to invite you to be part of a new bi-monthly    coffee     Tea House Project, hosted by the   BlueHome  Artworks Gift Shop:  

Essentially, it will be a Songwriters, Musicians, and Poetry Circle. This will be a very unique and informal group, plus the public will be invited to attend—no charge—come and go as you please. New Vrindavan’s own remarkably talented cast of songwriters, musicians, storytellers, and poets will be taking turns, sharing their work and their talents in an informal setting. The event will be easy on the ears—acoustic (meaning without amplification or drums, other than a microphone for the vocalists or readers, when necessary, and the possibility of low volume bass/lead guitar or other instruments requiring electricity, played at low volumes). Hand percussion, such as mrdanga, tabla, djembe, etc. will of course be welcome.

Musicians, don’t worry if you’re not a songwriter. When it’s your turn, play whatever tasteful music you like. Our intention is just that this project is open to creativity, and kirtan will not be the focus, but neither will it be excluded.

The Teahouse Project was inspired by an informal gathering held at the gift shop last Sunday, when Jaya Rishi gathered a few musicians together.

The next event will be held in the music room of the school on Thursday evening, February 14 (happens to be Valentines Day), at 5:30 pm. Subsequent events will be held on the 2nd and 4th Thursdays of each month.

We wanted to get the word out, asap, but we will, of course, send another reminder before the first Tea House event.

Jesse and Anandavidya

Anandavidya, Jesse, and Jaya Rishi

A Delightful Impromptu Song Swapping Circle

  • Posted by
  • January 28, 2013

by Lilasuka dasi

The other day,  after the Sunday feast, some of New Vrindavan’s finest musical talents dropped by the BlueHome Artworks Gift Shop. They went there to share their music and to jam along with each other’s songs.

The night before, Jaya Rishi had approached Jesse, “I’ve invited some musicians to my room in the temple after the Sunday feast to get together for some music. Would you and Lila like to come?”

“Sure, thank you. But, hey, why not have it at Bluehome Artworks Gift Shop, where it might be more roomy and comfortable? And besides, since your room’s in the men’s asrama,  then Lila will actually be able to come.”

And so it was.   Everyone sat in a circle in the Gift Shop, and one at a time, each musician led a song of their choice.  Most of the musicians there sang songs that they themselves had written.

After they’d gone around the circle about 3 times, everyone seemed very satisfied. Some were pleasantly surprised hearing their godsiblings’ music for the first time.

Jason, a new devotee at New Vrindavan who has been a drummer for some time, said, “I’ve been very interested in getting involved somehow in music in New Vrindavan, so this gathering has been especially nice for me.”

Jesse explains, “This music event tonight really inspired me toward a project in which I’ve been interested for some time. Lila and I have wanted to host gatherings of musicians, songwriters, poets and writers, since N.V. is a community full of talent. Tonight turned out to be a great start!”

Jesse added, “I especially liked the way everyone took turns and paid attention to each other’s offerings.”

Look for an invitation to be sent out soon, inviting everyone, including listeners, to future gatherings of this type.

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Well… the invitation is, of course, in the first part of this post.

I’ve been relatively absent from blogging for some time, due to my work in preparation for the opening of our new BlueHome Artworks consignment shop in New Vrindaban. I wanted to post, just briefly here, about our very encouraging and well received opening in conjunction with the annual Festival of Inspiration.

Thanks so much to all who visited the shop and showed support, including Maharaja Radhanath Ji, who suggested that, with the shop providing an outlet for people’s artistic creations, we would start a renaissance. Temple president, Jaya Krsna, had also stated, upon hearing of our proposal for the shop, “I like very much the idea of the store. It will encourage more devotees to work on their propensities.”

We had quite an enjoyable, successful, and encouraging opening weekend at our new BlueHome Artworks consignment shop. It was the annual Festival of Inspiration and the shop was well received, supported, and patronized by those attending. The weather was mostly fine–sunny and cool–until Sunday, which was rainy, but spirits seemed undampened. (:<)>

Especially, thanks to all the fine artists and artisans who have contributed and intend to contribute to the shop by consigning their work with us. The quality of work is outstanding, even exceeding expectations. We really cannot sufficiently express our appreciation. –Lilasuka and Jesse

As always, thanks for stopping by my blog, and please feel free to comment, if so inspired.

Keep in touch, Namaste, jesse

Jesse S. Hanson’s spiritual fiction novel

Jesse S. Hanson's spiritual fiction novel

Click picture to Buy or learn about my novel