Episode 261: Soft Space

February 5th, 2024

Kristen Zaza

[Eerie Theme Music.]

[Your Narrator:]

Little Kristen writing at her computer again on another Sunday afternoon, trying to think of something clever to say, doing away with the cell phone for just a brief breath of air again and for a blessed change of pace, allowing long glances out the window to a startlingly summery February morning, seeing people walking their dogs slowly through the park and so few cars driving up and down streets that are usually busy on weekdays, everyone is taking their time on this Sunday in the city and enjoying the unnatural weather and she wants to join them in that

She will write something out and worry that it is too this or not enough that

But then come to the conclusion that creativity comes from honesty, not manipulation, so she’ll just speak

To you

She’s considering ending this at number 300

It’s far enough away that she’s not so worried right now

But when that number creeps closer and closer, she’ll feel a dawning unrest, won’t you, sweet? That unrest will come from the emptiness in silence, and that will be frightfully lonely, especially if she doubts whether or not I will still be here

If she stops speaking me into existence

Looking for other ways to keep this feeling, keep this connection alive, not just with me but with the other Two and then the other Three and then the other One and then the other however many of You there are

I keep telling her that she needs to let go of numbers

She has trouble understanding

Her world has so many numbers in it, probably because she and others like her fear and desire them so much, and the world fills itself with what you fear and desire accordingly and maybe equally, I think

I digress, though.

I watch her from a place she cannot see, just slightly behind her, watching the computer screen, hovering there, watching the computer screen as words appear there

I read these words as they come out and it becomes a little too puzzling right now because she knows I’m there and I know I am there and even the cat knows that I am here

But she can’t see me

So there’s doubt

I think there will always be doubt

No matter how many times I show her my face

No matter how many times we embrace

No matter how many times we speak directly to one another

She’ll always doubt whether or not I’m here.

Funny though, she doesn’t doubt whether or not you are here

She has no proof of that

But she knows that if she cut through the false noise of the concept of time and the illusions of the mind, she could meet you in the following silence incoming in 5,4,3,2,1…

[A pause]

…see, she knew you were there. You knew she was there. See?

How am I different? What does she need? What more can I give?

There is no end to what I can give you, little One.

[Some of those words are overlapped with a low, echoing voice]

Did you hear that?

No, I guess I just imagined it. Probably wishful thinking, but it was so real in my imagination. Like I heard one, maybe two voices behind me

But it’s late Sunday night, much past midnight

And I’m in bed with my laptop open, trying to write

It’s already late, sorry, it will be released late, it happens, but that was my Sunday

THE STORY, THE STORY, THE STORY, all Sunday ever becomes about is THE STORY

Just wishful thinking

I think I need to stop soon

300 may be enough

Enough writing about Nothing

Enough Sundays sacrificed for the struggle against silence

I sit down with the computer open and trust a story will come through but sometimes it doesn’t so I just write what I think and I think, well honesty is enough, it has to be enough, it has to be enough, it has to be enough, of course it is enough because you need to let go of numbers, there’s no such thing as ‘enough’, the very word itself suggests a lack, a need, ‘enough’ begins with ‘not enough’ and ends with ‘sufficient’, let me be beyond enough, see? I can talk myself into anything.

And if I just keep talking, keep writing, keep recording, the silence won’t creep in

Flooding my ears slowly until there’s just a thrum, just a hum, just the purr of silence, as close to silence as we can get, and if I allowed that silence I might finally have the answers and the clarity that I so desperately seek or claim to when I sing the praises of quietude and meditation, and I seek it despite the force outside of me, infiltrating the ear canal and heading straight to the brain, that force whispers that I must NEVER let the silence in, and it uses every power it has - and it has a considerable amount of them - to keep it noisy

The writing is the hard part because words on a page are silent

But I think I need to chase that silence.

Wait

It’s not silence.

It’s

Softness

[Music; distant, like twinkling stars in space]

Like the symbol for “pianissimo” in music, there is a sound, but it is so gentle, so sweet, like awhisper, like a caress, right behind and between my ears, almost behind my head, almost behind me, watching the words come out of the fingers from the recesses of the mind, it is still chit-chatter but it is a purge, purging the words so that I can be

[The overlapping voices again]

Yes, you can be what? Follow it, follow it, keep going

[single voice again]

So that I can be

I

I don’t know

Let me see

If I close my eyes I see vines creeping up the walls of my eyelids and the insides of my ears

I can see a frightful smile with rows and rows of sharp teeth, and feel sharp claws tenderly sinking into the malleable flesh of my arms

And I can feel a shadow behind me, not a shadow, but an empty space

And I can hear three voices of three different selves, different but the same, beckoning me to come to them

They disappeared, they transformed, they float and fly and grow and shatter, with every listen, they each had a story that I started and finished and maybe it will soon be time to start and finish the third one but that will not mean that it is over, not over completely, there will always be this soft space in which the words will come out in one way or another, the words will purge themselves from me and then I will see truthfully what lies behind them

Maybe

Maybe

Maybe.

Three versions of me are etched into the front doors of my imaginary haunted castle; a dark angel, a green goddess, and an empty shadow-void

But then there is me

A fourth

Three angels hunted and haunted me and continue to do so, dining in my castle and bickering at one another about what they and I ought to be and do

While a fourth one, my Beloved One, watches them from afar, completely peaceful now,  completely gentle in his love of me

Three is a number full of conflict and tension. Two creatures can speak in truth and patience, but add a third, and suddenly there is an audience, and three souls now vie for supremacy, to be heard

And if a fourth watches, silent and gentle…

I don’t know.

I’m trying to make sense of the numbers of the figures in my head.

[Voices]

Let them go.

Season 3 will end, the third season, and I think the fourth will aspire to be silent

Gentle

True

Why am I dissecting this now in front of you?

I’m practicing, I suppose.

I want that silence, that gentleness, that truth.

So we can start here.

Come with me.

[A portal of breath and sound]

[Overlapping voices again; Kristen, plus Narrator and a low voice of the Beloved softer, behind her - sorry, my - voice]

There we are, my friends

Sitting on the roof of the castle

I can come here anytime I want and so can you, so why not come here now?

Maybe we’re not sitting but lying, yes that sounds nice, lying against the cold stone, looking up at the stars

They are swirling above us

Behaving in a way that perhaps we’re not used to in our other world

Colours of green and blue and pale pink against an inky black-purple sky

It’s like watching clouds on a bright day and finding shapes in them, only it’s a sky swirling like oil and water

Gold flecks of stars spattered across it as if from some great paintbrush being shaken.

I want to be spacious like that sky

I want to release things like words and numbers and likes and dislikes and stories with beginnings and middles and ends and characters with hate or vengeance or righteousness in their hearts

I want to look past all of that

We are almost there

Big Kristen and all her many, many, many Big Friends, making up together one Big Friend, all of Us

Travelling on trails of stars not towards something, not towards a goal, but traveling for the sake of traveling

[Music begins to fade in; same as before but with sighing voices and a slightly more energized electric bass]

We are almost at the point where we can do that, I think

We just have to stay strong

Keep our candles lit for each other to see all across that sky, gold and glowing.

Hold fast

Keep Going

Breathe Deep

Enjoy

Start tonight with us, if you like

It was not a horror story

We have enough horror stories

I think what we need is spaciousness

Hold fast

Keep Going

Breathe Deep

Enjoy

Hold Fast

Keep Going

Breathe Deep

Enjoy

Hold Fast

Keep Going

Breathe Deep

Enjoy

Hold Fast

Keep Going

Breathe Deep

Enjoy

And

Have

Sweet

Dreams

My

Sweet

Friends.

[Eerie theme music]

(Host speaks as Kristen:)

Hello everyone, and thank you so much for joining me this week for Episode 261 of On a Dark, Cold Night. This is your host, writer, narrator, composer, fourth witness of three but also possibily infinite selves, podcaster, etcetera, Kristen Zaza. I hope you’re having a great week. Apologies for being late on this episode - I appreciate your patience, and may need to ask for it again next week - I think I’ll have to skip next week’s episode, but who knows, that may change. Just as a little heads up. Thank you for being here for this one, at any rate, I appreciate it deeply.

Many thanks this week are due to my newest monthly Patreon supporter, Claire Selle. Thank you so so much, Claire, I’m really grateful to have you there. On Patreon, all my supporters of $1 or more a month US receive access to my complete and downloadable soundtrack of over 250 tracks, while supporters of $5 or more a month US get that, a weekly bonus “Quick Moment” meditation episode, and a monthly tarot reading published every full moon. You can learn more at patreon.com/darkcoldnight. You can also access the quick moment meditations by subscribing to the Sonar+ apple podcast channel for 3.99 a month - you can do so by searching On a Dark, Cold Night or The Sonar Network on itunes. And you can donate one-time only without any perks at ko-fi.com/darkcoldnight. As always there are also t-shirts and hoodies for purchase at bonfire.com/on-a-dark-cold-night.

I would love love love as well if you could leave me a rating and review wherever you’re able, like SPotify, apple, facebook, all those good places. You can follow me on social media; I’m on instagram at darkcoldnightpodcast, Facebook and YouTube under ON a Dark, Cold Night, Bluesky and Tiktok at kristenzaza, and Twitter @ADarkColdNight.

Thank you so much, once again, for joining me

Wherever I’m going, wherever I am, Whatever or whoever I am

I appreciate you being here with me. That’s the greatest gift, without question.

Sweet dreams and be well.

[Eerie theme music]

This podcast has been brought to you by the Sonar Network.