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  • Writer's pictureDiana


Updated: May 18, 2022

14th March 2022

The beauty of them.

All the holding that they do.

Ideally, and by definition, they hold/ support books, books for the most part; hold stories.

Story-tellers are some of my favourite kinds of people.

Sunday night ended with Gaekhir Republik and their soulful, heart-filling music-making.

I didn't understand the words but their music, like kintsugi, filled my brokenness from the damage that the week caused, as every week does (in some capacity).

GR did, what needed to be done.

I'm not sure what it was, the dimly lit room they were in, filled only (mostly) with their harmonious singing and playing, the melodies or just all of it together.

All I know is that I felt blessed to bear witness.

I haven't been a believer for about 20 years now but the experience reminded me of church.

When the postlude (last hymn to conclude mass) is sung and the choir continues as the congregation trickles out; Daddy used to have us stay till the choir stopped, as quite a few other worshippers did.

So the way GR played us out of the performance, transported me right back to those moments at the end of mass, it felt holy to me, just like it did when I used to believe.


Three songs. I was there for three songs and by goodness, that was enough (not really but you know what I mean).

I was left with a mind and body full of peace and love, I felt as good as you do when you know, deep in your bones, that you belong.

GR's performance was a gift.

It was the best lullaby.

I felt immense soothing joy.

I slept well, which is rare.

Late, but, oh well.

It couldn't get better than this.

Narrator: It could, in fact, get better.

I woke up to Andrea Gibson leaving me a text (that's a stretch and my ego is over-embellishing).

The truth is that they left a comment under my portrait of them, acknowledging my dedication to them AND THEN THEY GAVE ME A FOLLOW!

The pessimist in me anticipates an unfollow eventually (because everyone tires and leaves at one point or the other) but I am STUNNED BEYOND MEASURE.

Numb and joyful and numb again.

To send messages via the universe and have them delivered AND acknowledged.

A brilliant start to my weekend.

And a bookend to rival all bookends henceforth.

Music, poetry, music-makers and poets.

Such blessings in my life.

The life of an agnostic.

Like Marren sings, "Yeah I guess, that's my church."

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