Avg rating:
Your rating:
Total ratings: 1736
Length: 5:26
Plays (last 30 days): 1
We push the boat from shore.
Breaking the air in the stillness of the bay.
Intensity of stars reflected in the harbour,
Silently ignite.
The oar dips in to oil like water and we,
Are away.
Your hand won't write, not tonight,
But your mind may wander.
Into those deep lagoons that you know.
And your boat will go, by starlight alone.
"Da da da da da da da da"
You sang to the moon.
In the great black night with no lodestar,
In sight.
Out in the night, out on the water,
We pull the boat back to shore.
Breathing the air in the stillness of the bay.
Intensity of stars reflected in the water,
Silently ignite.
The oar dips in to oil like water and we,
Are away.
Under the moon,
In the great black night with no lodestar,
In sight.
And wait for it,
There are only two things now.
This great black night,
And the fire glow.
Listen, the darkness rings,
The darkness.
Listen, the darkness rings.
And wait for it,
There are only two of us now.
This great black night scooped out,
And this fire glow.
Listen, the darkess rings,
The darkness,
Listen, the darkness rings.
Take off your things,
And listen, the darkness rings.
This was one of the first things I remember hearing when I first got wired into RP...I believe it was Fall of 2001; I was back in Boulder after an 8-year stint in Noto Hanto, teaching and writing locally but restless to be abroad again; my marriage was in an unknown state; I was the only one who cared, and Life itself was at a crossroads...I remember making a night hike up into The Flatirons and thinking that the darkness can indeed ring out fairly loud and clear if you give it a chance to. I followed the urgings of The Universe, went back to update the Fodor's Japan I'd done, and snagged a Uni gig in Tokyo on the way through; wound up staying 10 years. It is a place where one cannot often see the stars, and the darkness has a lot more than a ring to it; more like a roar... A few years later, while on a month-long meditation vacation on the white sand shores of Ngapali Beach in Burma, I heard this lovely song again on my iTunes just as I saw and heard the squid and tuna fishermen going out into the Bay of Bengal from JakeTaw village on a moonless night, their boats and oars making dull thudding sounds and phosphorescent swirls in the oil-dark water, and I knew that my LodeStar would always guide me somehow, and well it has, and well shall it continue, I hope and pray, and RP's a part!
I think that statement was used by J Peterman on a Seinfeld episode
7 —> 8
This was one of the first things I remember hearing when I first got wired into RP...I believe it was Fall of 2001; I was back in Boulder after an 8-year stint in Noto Hanto, teaching and writing locally but restless to be abroad again; my marriage was in an unknown state; I was the only one who cared, and Life itself was at a crossroads...I remember making a night hike up into The Flatirons and thinking that the darkness can indeed ring out fairly loud and clear if you give it a chance to. I followed the urgings of The Universe, went back to update the Fodor's Japan I'd done, and snagged a Uni gig in Tokyo on the way through; wound up staying 10 years. It is a place where one cannot often see the stars, and the darkness has a lot more than a ring to it; more like a roar... A few years later, while on a month-long meditation vacation on the white sand shores of Ngapali Beach in Burma, I heard this lovely song again on my iTunes just as I saw and heard the squid and tuna fishermen going out into the Bay of Bengal from JakeTaw village on a moonless night, their boats and oars making dull thudding sounds and phosphorescent swirls in the oil-dark water, and I knew that my LodeStar would always guide me somehow, and well it has, and well shall it continue, I hope and pray, and RP's a part!
Great story, thanks!!
This was one of the first things I remember hearing when I first got wired into RP...I believe it was Fall of 2001; I was back in Boulder after a 7-year stint in Noto Hanto, teaching and writing locally but restless to be abroad again; my marriage was in an unknown state; I was the only one who cared, and Life itself was at a crossroads...I remember making a night hike up into The Flatirons and thinking that the darkness can indeed ring out fairly loud and clear if you give it a chance to. I followed the urgings of The Universe, went back to update the Fodor's Japan I'd done, and snagged a gig in Tokyo on the way through. It is a place where one cannot often see the stars, and the darkness has a lot more than a ring to it; more like a roar... A few years later, while on a meditation vacation on the white sand shores of Ngapali Beach in Burma, I heard this lovely song again on my iPod just as I saw and heard the squid and tuna fishermen going out from JakeTaw village on a moonless night, their boats and oars making dull thudding sounds and phosphorescent swirls in the oil-dark water, and I knew that my LodeStar would always guide me somehow, and well it has, and well shall it continue, I hope and pray, and RP's a part!
She sings "wait for it, there are only two things now. This great black night, and the fire glow" ...but an entire orchestra has crowded through the door and they're all going full tilt like some sudden mariachi band at a birthday party, knocking out the lovely hushed lyrics. Still, the first part is the kind of song where you just have to stop what you're doing so you can be there.
And she is giving a presentation at a public forum on the health of the Great Lakes at the University of Windsor tomorrow night.
12 years on, hopefully you are past your crossroads now
coloradojohn wrote:
Kingston is also the home of the Tragically Hip. Just thought you might want to know, eh.
That was lovely. Thank you!
Reading comments here can be fascinating. So many different voices, memories and opinions.
Love Sarah--there's a quiet desperate yearning in her voice and lyrics. "Almost" is a perfect example.
My ears also want to say that they like this song!
'sfar as I know, Sarah Harmer is a Canadian, and the accent hmmmm, Oi tork loik that orlreddy, so Oi w'nt notice.
Ah yes, the joy of laundromats. And I thought it was about having no guiding star/controlling principle.
My ears also want to say that they like this song!
I can listen to her all day!
...Nice. Just the chill pill I needed. Thanks B&R
True!
Axeman, you sliced through bark and got to the heart of the matter!
As opposed to American shit?
Yes! Has the same texture to me too!
ditto
dunno wrote:
More Weeping Tile!