During the first weeks of the new year, I usually start with looking back on the year before, trying to see an overview of the past year, before I start planning the upcoming year. You can think of it as the metaphor of looking in the rearview mirror to ensure that you aren’t missing something behind you, before you ease into a new direction on the road ahead.
When I look back on the last year, I can see that 2023 is filled with an energy of striving, of wanting to go forward, of finally taking the step of writing and sharing my stories. But while I was doing this, I experienced invisible walls and obstacles inside of me, some kind of energy urging me to wait, to pace myself. I often felt like I existed in a tension between expansion and contraction.
Two steps forwad, one step back. One step forward, three steps back. Three steps forward, two steps back.
Last year I started this very Substack. Originally, I had planned it to be a place where I would describe thoughts and ideas behind my creative works, a bit like a work-in-progress blog, but strangely (and wonderfully), this Substack somehow evolved into its own being, with completely new (and old) stories taking shape, and new visuals (often consisting of old photos) needing to be created to accompany them. The stories were often longer than I had originally planned, and they emerged at a slower pace than I had intended. But they emerged, nonetheless. Overall, it felt like a practice in patience. A challenge in trusting the flow and allowing it to flow at its own pace.
Somewhere along the line, I started to record audio voiceovers of my posts. While I was recording those voiceovers, I noticed that my writing sometimes changed shape through the action of me reading it aloud. My voice wanted to add and change things that I had not thought of in writing. Through recording these voiceovers I realized that there was something going on when I was using my actual voice, when the words translated into sounds, that didn’t exist in the same way only in writing. I think that this is where the very first seeds of starting a podcast started to take root.
But there were other reasons. My year of 2023 felt a bit like a long climb out of a deep hole, that the year started from. As I wrote in my last post, Circuits, my year of 2023 was a journey through my shadows, sitting with them, trying to understand them, trying to make my way back to the light.
At one moment, in the end of summer (August, September?), I was sitting in the aftermath of a panic attack, cheeks still wet with tears, and I got the sudden urge to start writing in my notebook. My partner asked me what I was doing, writing so frenetically, and I answered jokingly, “I’m just dancing in the dark void disco”, because I was writing about the painful memories of my thirteen-year-old self that had suddenly surfaced, perhaps through my panic, through being in a dark inbetween space where I somehow attuned to a similar state of mind from an earlier age.
While I said those words, “dark void disco” I could hear that this was something that I needed to make. It sounded a bit scary, but also funny.
For me, the word “disco” has a special place in my heart, because, that’s what our school dances were called when I was a pre-teen (10-12 years old). Disco was where I went, wearing my light blue top featuring a silver dragon, with a gentle flutter of hope in my chest, hoping that I would get a chance to dance with the boy I had a crush on. Disco was where the boring school gym transformed into a magical place, with a disco ball reflecting it’s dots of light all over the room in a circular motion. Disco was where my hopes got crushed, as the boy I had a crush (!) on had promised me the last dance, but then when the last song started to play, the most popular girl of our school asked him to dance, so he danced with her instead. I watched them and felt an ache inside of me. But then I thought to myself, I don’t blame him. She’s the popular girl, after all. And then I got up and danced, by myself. I was a weird kid. (I guess I still am.) And I always loved to dance. (I still do.)
All of this to say, that …. well, I started that podcast, Dark Void Disco, and you can listen to it now on Spotify or through the podcast website on https://rss.com/podcasts/darkvoiddisco/
I wanted to write a longer description about the podcast’s backstory here, since it has been especially inspired by my work on this publication. I feel that these two publications share some common ground, almost like they are sisters. This publication, Mysterious Musings is a bit like an older, patient sister who wants to take the time to elaborate, meticulously adding her references and trying to get to the bottom of things. Dark Void Disco, on the other hand, is like a younger sister who doesn’t care about being all proper. She just wants to have space to feel, to play and to dance.
Since I can see a connection between these publications I have decided to add Dark Void Disco as a sub-section into Mysterious Musings. Which means, in addition to my writings, you will be updated about new podcast episodes as well. And as this publication evolves, I might add more sub-sections as needed. Please note, that if you are not interested in content connected to Dark Void Disco, I think there is an option to choose which sections to subscribe to in your account settings. Please send me an email if you need help to find these settings.
Another change that I am bringing to this Substack is that I am going to open up my audio voiceovers for all readers - paid and free subscribers alike. Paid subscriber benefits will instead include access to a private feed with bonus podcast episodes.
I have felt an ache inside of me when keeping the audio voiceovers of my writings behind a paywall, because I think they add dimensions to the works that I want everyone be able to access (who wants to.) But I think that the choice of hiding away my voice behind a paywall might have been needed for me to dare to start sharing my voice in the first place. It gave me a kind of protected practice ground, that I am now ready to step out from.
With that, I am stepping out from the shadows and into the new year’s light. But, I’m taking my shadows with me, trying to travel onwards with patience, love and care.
My school dances have transformed into dancing with my toddler in our living room. Toy cars and dinousaurs are my dancing companions now, with the squeals of an excited 2.5-year-old layered over the soundtrack.
Thank you for travelling with me on this journey. May this year be filled with joy and dance for all of us. But also deep revelations and powerful, all-encompassing healing.
With Love,
Minnamari