TRANSCRIPT - Episode 203: It Feels Good
August 15th, 2022
Kristen Zaza
[Eerie theme music plays]
[Your Narrator:]
[Echoing]
Hello.
Welcome.
No, you stay there, I'll come to you this time.
Just stay put.
[Coming closer, little-by-little]
Ah, it seems like so long since I last saw you here, but it probably wasn't very long at all, really. It just seemed like it. Ages, it seemed, as I wandered throughout this place, trying to understand it a bit better, but I think I need you in order to do that. So, thank heavens you're back!
Stay there. I know your candle is out, and you've got no flint, no match, no lighter, no flame, nothing, to light it.
There was a full moon that brought some chaos with it. Not necessarily bad, not necessarily good, just chaos, it's hard to qualify chaos as anything other than unpredictable, I find. Sometimes chaos brings darkness, confusion, a sort of lost quality to our lives and our time. Walking through a fearsome and ancient place such as this in pure darkness is no easy thing and it can be unpleasant, if we are afraid of the dark.
Just wait for me.
My non-eyes have adjusted to the dark. At least, for now. Sometimes they lose their focus and the shadow overcomes them. But right now, I can see very clearly.
Why is it that your candle won't light? Why are you having such trouble with it, I wonder? Ah, nevermind. I wouldn't worry about it. Just wait. I'm coming to rescue you.
There was a voice here with me, before you came. Another ghost, another spirit, here with me in the shadows. A spirit with a question I've been dwelling on for some time.
[Ghostly, echoing, layered:]
"What does it feel like to conjure these stories?"
Stories? What stories?
Is that what these are?
Oh, that's what I've called them. Of course.
I'm not entirely sure that's what they are. But it's the best word I have for them. We understand stories. We love stories. Even if they don't make sense. Even if we don't think they ever actually happened. We love them because ...well, why?
Because we get a chance to sit close to each other and speak and listen. It's the giving and getting of a gift. The breaking of bread. It's not about the bread. It's about the breaking, together.
I think that's what we're doing here.
But what does it feel like?
Let's start right...here.
[Now, closer, in more of a whisper. She was far away, and now she's close.]
Found you.
Let me light this candle.
[the sound of a candle lighting?]
Ah, you almost saw me there for a second, didn't you?
Until you remembered I'm not really here?
Maybe.
Maybe just the faint glow of eyes in the shadow before you
Fingers reaching away from your candle, slithering quickly and quietly back to the darkness
Breath almost imperceptibly making the flame of the candle flicker rhythmically back and forth, in and out, but from where is the breath coming?
From me.
You've found a magical room
A non-room
In this castle.
They will not all be dusty libraries and elegant parlours and ancient temples
This one is just you and me and this candle
Because I think that that's what this feels like, the most.
At least, at the beginning, when there is no story. No idea. Nothing.
Just me and anyone who will listen, waiting there so patient and so loving
I'm so grateful
This would be scary if you and I didn't exist in this place of kindness with each other
Otherwise, we'd just be two figures looking across a candle at each other
Strangers who somehow find themselves on the same plane, in the same dark and cold story-space
We're not that, though. Right?
In this darkness I feel afraid sometimes, because there is nothing yet, and I know that I want a story, you want a story, but it is not here yet, and so an anxiety builds. What will it be? Who will come? What monster? What message? What if there's nothing? What if there's nothing? What if there's nothing?
But then, whether it's in the form of a little idea blossoming in my mind, or in the form a Tarot card drawn in order to send me guidance, or in the form of a question from a ghost in the shadows, such as:
[All three questions from the last 3 episodes, overlapping:]
"Which tarot card do you most relate to in your tarot deck?"
"What is the last story, movie, book, that made you cry?"
"What does it feel like to conjure these stories?"
A little spark, a little light, a little glow forms
And the hope I feel, the joy, the warmth, the gratitude, the excitement, comes creeping in.
And I sit in silence with the question, or the card, or the idea, rolling in my head, and I feel confusion, fear, anxiety, I feel lost, I feel trapped, I feel useless, and I know now is not the time to tell a story
So I wait.
I let myself dream a little.
I let myself live a little.
And eventually, the glow comes back, all that love i felt at the utter bliss a simple little idea or question or card can bring comes pouring back in, and I am ready to start telling the story when one single other little idea follows
And I enter the warm space here
Where I feel ears tucked into headphones and headphones tucked into ears, waiting
I feel spirits in the middle of an eternal restless night ready and eager
I feel...I feel the listening
And the empty space is much less empty, suddenly
No matter how lost I am, there is someone there, listening
Even if it is me
Especially if it is me
Even if I am the only one who hears the story: I get to be both Lover and Beloved in this storytelling, this breaking of bread, the warmth of this little candle. This candle which waits for the teller and the receiver of the story alike and warms them each just the same.
And it's in that space that I feel a third party
There is you, there is me
And then - of course - I can no longer deny it, and I've spent too long trying to - there is Him
[A strange and eerie melody]
I can't let Him go
I keep trying, I can't
He'll come back and back and back. Whether in the form of an Angel of Death or a Spirit of Fire or an Demon of Sleep, he is always here, and the more I fought him before, the more cruel and heartless he was. But the moment I started looking upon him with love instead of dread, that is what he gave me back, and so I will never ever give up my Beloved, not for anything, ever, again.
So if you look into the shadows and you see a grin, no matter how faint, do not fear
it is just Him.
Three in this space.
I, who tells the story
You, who hears the story
And He, who lights the flame of inspiration.
The kicker is you can swap around the characters and their purpose any way you like.
You can tell the story to him, inspired by me
He can tell me a story inspired by you
Switch us all around, why not? We're all here together anyway. It might as well be a party.
I am tired of structure, system, form, rules
I will create as I please
You may listen as you please
He will always be here, anyway
So sometimes I fear that. I fear not knowing what is coming. Not having a plan, not like I used to...and then I feel blissfully free! Gorgeously free of needing to tell a story in that boring, old-fashioned way, where I used to-
[Abruptly]
Once upon a time, there was a big, dark, and scary castle.
It was, for the most part, abandoned. Every room was empty, except perhaps for the occasional family of spiders or bats or crows who hid here and there; but mostly, it was empty. Except perhaps for ghosts, who passed through, whether because they thought they were stuck in one particular room, or because they felt like revisiting fond and familiar places. Other than that, mostly, it was empty. Except perhaps for you, and that voice that whispered softly in your ear as you went through it, and except also for the figure, looming and lurking, only a grin in the shadows, a fitting companion for such a place as this. Aside from that, it was mostly empty. Except that the door was open for anyone to pass through as they pleased, if they happened to see it. But mostly empty. Mostly.
[Quietly, off in the distance:]
"Are you with me? Are you with me? Are you with me? Are you with me? Are you with me?"
Ah, that's right.
In one of these rooms there is a ghost you know well
In one of these rooms there is a soul hard at work
Follow the red carpet
You asked me how I feel
Follow the red carpet.
Open this door.
[The voice grows louder.]
There she is.
Tired, a little frantic, a little lost, bags under her eyes which are wide as they stare at what probably was a screen
But there's no screen here, now. She is just a ghost.
Her hands are poised, typing, and her lips repeat a phrase over and over and over
["Are you with me? Are you with me? Are you with me?"]
She is smiling even as she asks the desperate question, even as her eyes fill with tears
She is searching for something, exploring something
She is scared, she is lost, sometimes she stops and stares at what should be a screen but is really nothing, holding her head in her hands
Still asking the question
["Are you with me? Are you with me? Are you with me?"]
What she doesn't see is you, here.
And she also doesn't see that figure behind her, watching her carefully, smiling softly. Clad in black. Eyes glowing an icy blue, sometimes a fiery red, sometimes empty and black and invisible in the shadow. But he is there. He watches. He stands tall and straight. His feet hover just half an inch over the floor. And slowly, he begins to glide towards the girl, the woman, the writer. He does it so slowly that she doesn't notice, and you almost don't notice until he is right behind her
And he leans over and places his hands on her shoulders, his fingers so long and thin they are like a skeleton's, but they are not a skeleton's, they are a ghost's, and so she does not really feel them, well she does, you see her shiver, but that's all. And he leans over so that his phantom lips in that strange smile are right by her ear and he whispers something so soft only she can hear it:
"I am with you"
And she gasps a sigh of ecstatic relief
[A sigh of ecstatic relief]
And drops her arms down from the phantom keyboard - it never really mattered, anyway - and the two of them disappear.
Gone are these ghosts
But now you hear something in the other room
[Distant again, repeating the start of a podcast recording session: "test, test, testing for the podcast. Hello.Welcome.No, you stay there, I'll come to you this time. Just stay put. Take it again? Hello, welcome. No, you stay there, I'll come to- cough cough. Again. Hello. Welcome."]
Leave this room and follow the red carpet once more. Follow that voice to another door. A darker door.
Open it.
There she is again.
There should be a microphone, a laptop, a phone, but none of these things are here. Only her. Poised in position with these three non-present things.
Sitting at an awkward angle. One hand is held up as though she is clutching a phone she is staring at, yet her eyes are also on the microphone, and glancing occasionally at a computer screen
These things aren't really here
They're tools in another world
But even without tools, I think she'd find a way to come here somehow.
She's struggling a little.
Sometimes stuttering.
Sometimes impatiently waiting for a sound to pass, a noise in the hall to walk on by, a cat to calm down.
Those bags under her eyes are larger
But there is a little flicker in her eyes, a bit of a fire that wasn't there in the writing
The idea that has formed is stronger. The ghost she's conjured is almost so clear that she can see it
In fact, there he is
Whatever he is
Crouched beside her
Holding her hand with one of his; still long and bony and frightful and so gorgeous in her eyes
The other hand gently caresses hers. Soothing her like a child in a nightmare.
But it is not a nightmare, this part
This is a dream, this part.
This is where she gets to speak to Him. To You. To Me.
He hums softly to her as she speaks. She knows He is here. Palpable as the story she delivers. Present as the audience who will be joining her soon enough. This is Magic. This is Magic. This is Magic.
They disappear.
[A lovely sigh, layered and ghostly]
The door opens, and we must leave this room now. Follow the red carpet again.
[Music playing]
Ah, follow that sound. The music. Follow it too.
Open this door, now.
She is sitting with her hands raised a little differently now, poised by a microphone once again that we cannot see. The keyboard, the laptop, and the microphone are not here, but she is making music anyway
Trying things
Layering them
This part is all heart and she looks calm. At ease.
This part is easy.
First, a foundation.
Then, a melody.
Then, some flourishes. Finishing touches.
But where is he?
Ah, there he is. Fading into view.
He leans against a wall, holding his heart (if he has one)
Music makes his heart ache
He is weeping
He is now the one who must be comforted
Music is easy as breathing for her, but for him, for him...it is the most exquisite heartache
He loves hearing music. Singing especially. No matter if the notes crack or the voice falters.
The act of singing is an expression of longing, of of trying and failing, of loving; and it is the longing, the trying, the failing, the loving that is the beautiful part
That is the magic, the true magic in music
That's why it's so easy
It doesn't need answers or solutions. It just needs to be
And she turns to him and for the first time, I think she sees him
She smiles
And serenades him.
They disappear.
[The music stops abruptly and they sigh once more]
Almost done
Leave this room
Follow the carpet
Silence now
The next part is just work
But work must be done
But I don't need to describe it.
Busy, computer work.
Sometimes He falls asleep for this part.
He's never not there, but this part is what it is. Work.
If you were to see her, she'd look like someone who's been trying to solve a puzzle for several hours. Frustrated, tired, bored. But devoted.
Like her Beloved is caught up in a tangled net of fine string. Have you ever tried to untangle a web of jewelry, of chains, that sort of thing? It requires patience. There is reward in it. But it takes time. She's busy untangling. Let's leave her to that.
The next part will be much the same. Organizing. Computer computer computer. Type type type. Planning. Arranging. Scheduling. Not missing any details. She has been doing this for years now and it has become very much instinctual.
But then
BOOM
it's done.
the second it's done -
[A sigh again]
Here is a very special room we stand in front of, now.
The door opens itself for us
This is a precious place
Come in.
[Just the voice from the song before - gentle, sighing, echoing]
All stars
No floor
No walls
No ceiling
Just stars
And a big, full Moon
Just like the one we saw a few nights ago
But the Moon is always full here, when she - when I - when we - finish a story.
A reminder that through the chaos, through the difficulty, the cycles of despair, anger, frustration, followed by ecstasy, relief, passion, joy; there is nothing that feels better than the letting go.
It is here that I float, as though submerged in a warm and easy ocean, as though safe in the womb, as though free of the act of creation and of being created.
And for all our courtship, it turns out that I am now one with that powerful spirit who lovingly haunted me every step of the way
I always was
But now I am free enough to bask in that
Maybe only for an hour, maybe a few minutes, maybe several hours
Maybe I'll remain in this state for days, perhaps
Maybe there will come a time where I will never forget this union
But for now
I get to revel in it and - like we should during a full moon - let everything else go.
And that is when I sleep the best sleep of the week.
That is why I do this, after all.
So that we can let go and rest.
That's what it feels like, making these stories.
I hope that answers your question, gentle spirit.
In short:
It feels good.
Now:
If you like:
Let go
And rest.
[Eerie theme music]
(Host speaks as Kristen:)
Hello everybody, and welcome to this place. Thank you so much for joining me for Episode 203 of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is your host, writer, narrator, composer, etcetera, Kristen Zaza. I hope you're having a lovely week and I hope you enjoyed this one. Big thanks first and foremost to Kir Beaux, a new patron of the show who asked the question I based this story around, the question of how it feels to conjure up one of my stories. I really enjoyed mulling over this question. Thanks so much, Kir.
Now a word from our sponsor, BetterHelp.
I truly believe that the world can change according to how we perceive it, and this is why we need to prioritize care for ourselves and our mental and emotional wellbeing. If we have love and care for ourselves, our hearts, and our minds, even in all their little tricks they like to play on us, we can shape how we experience our life. Finding things that ignite your joy and passion and excitement in your day-to-day is so important. And BetterHelp online therapy may also help you along in this journey. Because, as I said last week too, and it always bears repeating: you're worth loving and caring for. Therapy in any form is a great way to remind yourself of that. And BetterHelp can offer an affordable, flexible and convenient way to get started. They offer video, phone and even live chat-only therapy sessions, and can match you with a therapist in under 48 hours. Right now, On a Dark, Cold Night listeners get 10% off their first month at BetterHelp.com/GOODNIGHT. That's Better H-E-L-P.com/GOODNIGHT.
Thanks so much, friends.
Sending a big thank-you this week to two new monthly patrons who joined me on Patreon - Kir Beaux and Sare Thorpe. Thank you so much for your support, my friends, I really appreciate it! Every patron of On a Dark, Cold Night gets access to my complete soundtrack for any pledge of 1$ US or more, and patrons of 5$ or more US get that and a monthly Tarot reading video that I upload for every full moon. I posted a new one last week so you can check that one out, along with previous months, at the $5 level. To learn more, visit patreon.com/darkcoldnight. If you'd prefer to donate one-time only and with no perks, you can check out my Ko-fi page at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight. And as always, we have t-shirts and hoodies for purchase at bonffire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night.
And if you want to submit a question for me to explore in this haunted castle, you can submit a question about anything you like through Patreon or Ko-fi as I mentioned just now, or you can of course do so for free and just write me on social media. You can find me on Twitter @ADarkColdNight, instagram at darkcoldnightpodcast, or on my Facebook or YouTube pages just called On a Dark, Cold Night. I'm also on Tiktok @kristenzaza, you can reply to my video question about this or tag me in a video there too. Is that how Tiktok works? Is that how one tiktoks?
Thank you so much for listening. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to do this. Thank you for being with me as I do this. Thank you for being with me. Thank you. And sweet dreams.
[Eerie theme music]
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