We had a great session again last night at Godfrey’s with some new faces among the friends. We’ve really developed some nice connections. Theater folks, puppeteers, poets, teachers, artists, musicians, etc. Bill George, Jenny Gilrain, Mark McKenna, Cleveland Wall, Susan Lucrezi, Doug Roysdon, Chaz Kiernan and Bill Christine and myself.

After a good period of sharing our latest projects, including some mighty powerful stories of working with kids, Lehigh University, the Kennedy Center, WDIY radio and more. There’s some interesting projects afoot that hopefully will establish our connection with the Bethlehem school district and as a template for some national organizations.

It fell to me to lead the creative workshop part of the session. I had done a workshop in CT with the Teaching Artist group where we went into an art museum, broke up into small groups and were told to find a painting that appealed to us, take a few rhythm instruments and create a soundscape for that piece, and then present it to the other groups.

I decided to try something similar with Dylan’s A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall. I broke our group into two sets of four people, and asked that they pick out one verse and work out a soundscape. After about 40 minutes they presented their movements. They were strange and wonderful.

The important part followed as we unpacked the process. What parts resonated, how did the process work within the group and the chat was wonderful.

A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall is an especially dense and somewhat apocalyptic piece of poetry and it provided quite a challenge to my friends. As we wrapped up I asked how are we going to finish the session, and then, the obvious popped in my head – let’s sing the song. Perfect.

These sessions are frankly intoxicating, not only for the creative process and spirit we share but for the rich celebration of our friendships.

Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall – Bob Dylan

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall