We emerge from a gaping hole in the atmosphere, barreling through the layers that lead us swiftly through a sea of concentrated grimy clouds, so full of water that they look sure to burst onto the uneven dead grass that lays below. From our tail, a thick multi-layered kaleidoscope of vibrant scorching flames as they collect magnesium and lithium from the deteriorating ozone to carry thorough as we continue our descent at a speed that would suggest we are to land not on the surface but within the crust of the Earth itself.
We are 17 seconds into Visual Music by Augustwolf, a collaborative project born between music producer Douglas Wolf Reid and Oleh Andrievsky; a partnership built through the ethers of the internet and by Reid’s own admission, “an amazingly beautiful accident.”
As we grip the cords of our parachute and scope the floor for an appropriate stable landing, the clouds we tore through close in a dramatic fashion; lightning crashes and thunder rumbles from the far East of our peripherals.
As we thump onto our chosen landing deck, a flat bed of sand and dirt, the roar of a dozen fighter jets skim the upper tier of the sky. Ahead of us, a small outpost for us to collect ourselves, regain our footing and prepare for our next most uncertain steps.
Within the outpost are all we’re allotted for the journey ahead, a backpack pre-loaded with some tactical gear and a change of clothes for the much milder and humid temperature of this new foreign land. We’ve spent the last month in a hurried daze with the feeling that we’re not just being watched, but hunted, and we long for the comforts of our well-worn bed.
We stay only long enough to catch our breath and devour the last ripe apple in a bowl full of fruit that suggests we arrived later than our companions expected; Small holes in the molding others indicate that we’re not the only hungry animals present.
There is not a single hint that our predecessors remain anywhere within the vicinity and as the thunder rolls to a close and the lightning turns into mere sparks rather than disastrous flashes, we drape our wet jacket over our shoulder and set our sights north to the only place we’ve ever known as home.
The days that follow are long, but surprisingly not lonely. Treated with visits in the early hours from the local larks and afternoon’s with herds of caribou and elk who have softened the path we travel with their enormous tough hoofs; They lead us to fresh river beds full of flourishing salmon and we drink gallons without hesitation.
It is here on what we dub as Douglas Pond that we are finally able to replenish our bodies and relax our minds into a state of utter tranquility. We spend an afternoon allowing the polite chirping of the birds above to return our attention to the summers of our youth and the salient dreams that guided us through the most prominent adversities and into the most rewarding triumph’s. As we rest we can feel the hands of our biggest supporters soothe our aching shoulders and reiterate wise words passed down from our mother and father, “Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.”
While the horizon ahead of us appears a marker without a true destination, we remain clear-sighted as we trudge along towards it. The grass moves from a faint yellow into spurts of vibrant green, leisurely concealing the nutrient dense soil that it appeared from after having enriched itself from the colossal downpour laid during the vicious combat between the ancient spirits that spurred our speedy descent.
As the nights turn again into day we’re overwhelmed with the scent of lavender and jasmine despite none such plant-life of its kind within our sights. While we are left without the benefit of a calendar, the gentle humming of eager bumble bees and zippy hummingbirds suggest we have finally crossed the threshold from winter to spring.
We begin to peel the long sleeves off our tattered shirt and cuff our pants midway on our calves, embracing the soft glow of impending summer sun to kiss our skin and warm our hardened face, but it isn’t long before we feel the Earth beneath us begin to shift; The grass struggling to maintain its leafy allure and the insects who made it its home lay to rest, unable to find enough food within it to sustain themselves. The promise of brighter days upheld once more by cosmic trickery.
We arrive at an impasse when we are met with a pebble-spilled road and suddenly as we stand before it, we realize not only have we veered away from our internal compass with no stars to guide us; each one hidden behind a menacing layer of soot and smoke that seems to sit just feet above our heads, but we also no longer hear the echoes of our brothers, nor see the flicker of our sister’s guiding light.
In the distance a single flash of lightning suggests our luck has run as dry as the ground we walk on, but we know that just like it, we need the flood to fall to restore the dehydrated fauna that has both frightened away the deer and attracted a devious fragrance that has driven the once careful and inconspicuous coyotes into a rabid frenzy. It is their eyes, we decide, that we have felt encroaching upon us.
We heed the warning of our rumbling stomach and perch ourselves onto the third branch of a nearby laurel leaf willow; its dwindling leaves as inviting as the finest tailored umbrella’s. We are unwavering and quiet, despite our skittishness.
Hours pass and the coyotes below grow weary of waiting for us to surrender and we expel an elongated sigh as the low rumble of the approaching thunder builds from a growl to a roar.
As we drift into an anxious sleep that will undoubtedly be full of disruptions, we’re certain we feel the soft touch of a familiar hand resting itself on our wrist.
It will be a long night, but as our closing eyes peek one last time at the coyotes wandering into the folds of the nearby woods and the first of the sky’s stars begins to twinkle into focus, we know we’ll be safe here until morning light.
“Visual Music” by Augustwolf is nothing short of an auditory fairy tale. Beginning with a dramatic guitar-heavy solo, it immediately sucks you into a fabled story that is as enchanting as it is mesmerizing. It allows you to drift within the bars of its score, floating along with every note as it works to ultimately uplift both mind and soul. Whether you’re looking for something to gently soothe your spirit or to grip at your innermost feelings and thrust them to the surface, there is surely something within “Visual Music” for you to enjoy.
Crooked Forest 