Sampled largely from recordings of Mike Mitchell improvising, Jon Bap’s first full length album flows like a reflective exploration of the meditative space set by the opening, Guided Meditation. Imbued with spiritual wisdom, this track sets the tone for the rest of the album, which tells an abstract story of the balance between self-reliance and integrity in art-making, and the shared, collective experience of joy and freedom cultivated in solitude.

The field recordings sampled through out function as prefaces for the songs that follow.

For example, Forward describes an emergence from darkness. Next, Born Into This recursively comments on this emergence, reflecting an acknowledgement of interconnectedness with the universe/God, the blending of background and foreground. The recording at the close of Born Into This further highlights this theme of emergence/birth – it is a baby and presumably their father at bath-time. Birth as emergence from the darkness of what comes before life. Can it not be said that we emerge from death into life the same as we return to it?

The field recording at the beginning of Fail describes the dedication required to succeed as an artist – or really, as anything outside of the established power structure/conveyor belt of capitalist society. Here, Jon Bap bares his soul, expressing his fear of failure, which is a driving fire of his dedication to his craft. It also imbues a philosophical message – putting the cart before the horse, focusing on results instead of the process that leads to those results. Relating this theme back to the Guided Meditation, this is the crux of meditation: Releasing attachment to results, coming fully into the present. The same goes for dedication to any craft – art as meditation.

Flow speaks to a similar theme: That indescribable state of presence that can’t be forced, but when achieved drives all else. Intuition seems to hint back to this aspect of Flow – “This still seem to have no end, ‘til I decide it’s up to me.” Cyclical existence repeating endlessly until one takes ownership of their true nature, which is this state of flow (Tao). He hints that this state of flow/intuition is like a muscle that must worked out before it manifests more fully. This relates back to meditation – it is not about the duration or the intensity, but the consistency; growing that space of presence and mindfulness until it begins to bleed into and inform everyday life.

Ghost in the Wintertime refers back to fail in its subject matter surrounding the subversion of societal expectations. This aspect of the song itself prefaces the field recording at the end, which, to me is the crux of the album. It brought to mind a quote from activist Bell Hooks: “Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as a means of escape.” This theme applies not only to interpersonal relationships, but to one’s relationship with an instrument/art and the ability to interface/create with others that comes from discipline and cultivation of one’s own voice independent from others. Furthermore, this also speaks to one’s relationship to oneself through meditation; cultivating a space of presence that lies behind form is essential to living as a full person, beyond the trappings of the mind/emotions.

Whereas Ghost in the Wintertime expresses the importance of solitude, Don’t Run Into the Dark So Quick reflects the paradox of separate/individual entities existing as part of a harmonious collective (or, in this case, partnership). We all go it alone at the end of the day, but nonetheless we all function as one small (yet, essential) part of something greater.

Yin represents Earth, or the feminine force in the universe, which flows downward in the body, toward the earth. It is the grounding force that solidifies and blends heaven into earth – divinity manifest in form, but not tied to it. In the field recording used here, there is an emphasis on paradox: fluctuation, yet everything is the same; nature created for no one and nothing (by whom?); absence of presence. The recording ends with a nod to mystery – the truth of the Universe cannot be grasped, only experienced. “Not that I’ve ever been there” is an acknowledgement that, wherever “there” is, each must experience it for themselves in their own way.

The album finishes sweetly, with the sweet blossoming of a flower. This conclusion, escaping a dramatic, philosophical conclusion, somehow still embodies the purest essence of what it is to be alive, to make art. Creation at its purest. I was reminded of a quote from the poet Kahlil Gibran:

“Say not, ‘I have found the truth,’ but rather, ‘I have found a truth.’
Say not, ‘I have found the path of the soul.’ Say rather, ‘I have met the soul walking upon my path.’
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.”

Upon completion, one can only ask: What now? Each must decide the answer for themselves.