Mabon Part I - Nothing Else Matters

The night air shifts before the signs of Autumn are noticeable during the day. While the days can still be hot and full of force like any other time in the summer, the evenings grow cooler and longer. The night knows what is coming...and pays heed to the turning of the seasons.

The Mabon Autumn equinox festival is one of the two times I have during the year to escape to the woods and frolic among friends, fire, and faerie. It is always a mixed gathering of old friends, past lovers, and friends yet to be. I was very much looking forward to this much needed reprieve, and I was excited to bring a brand new bottle of Talisker Storm with me to share. Only, when I went to the store, he was not there.

The woman behind the counter told me they weren't expecting him to return; she called around for me to the other places, but to no avail...  He had gone off, without a word, and with no indication of when I could see him again. All this so soon after I finally admitted my true feelings, proclaiming him to be my perfect Scotch. I was a bit taken aback, and surely disappointed, but life has trained me to take things like this in stride. The journey continues, indeed...

So instead of my beloved, I took with me two of the lads that had been hanging around for a bit - the Irishman and Wasmund's. Not Scotches, but single malts from Ireland and Virginia. Another friend was also bringing a group of boys he wanted me to meet, so I knew there was fun in store. Even without Talisker Storm.

On the first evening, an impromptu gathering assembled around my picnic table. Friends and whisky lovers with cups and mugs of all sizes, and with them the gentlemen of various styles from many parts of the world. We laughed and chatted as the sun set over the lake, bringing a close to the equinox day. In conversation, someone mentioned the band Iron Horse. Classic rock and metal songs done in the style of bluegrass.  And why not? Who says certain combinations shouldn't be? I'm beginning to think that attitude simply denotes a lack of creativity...

So I checked out this version of one of my favorite Metallica songs. It was different, for sure, but it suited me. When you're riding the chaos, it seems the unexpected becomes the norm in life.

These thresholds are for crossing. 

If your dearest beloved has left or disappointed you, then find another and pour a dram. Listen to the song and sip slowly, tasting the unfamiliar flavors with an open mind for a different view. Listen to the familiar song in a new way, and forever trust in who you are... for Nothing Else Matters.

Among the offerings to try from friends were Crown Royal Caramel and a new dark and mysterious Highland Park who I had never heard of - Einar. He is from the warrior series that this distillery has released, to honor the viking history of their island. I was excited to meet him.

I only had a short time with him, with all that was going on, but I found him very interesting. He was sweet and pleasant overall, at times with a note of powdered sugar! But he had an edge as well once he opened up - spicy and powerful. He was no Talisker, for sure, but that one was no where to be found. I'd say Einar is one of the best Highland Parks I've had, and I would love to spend more time with him soon.


As the dark night stretched a farewell caress over her dearest day, the waxing moon rose in the sky. The music was starting down at the pavilion, and the fire was calling us to play...

This festival marked a new chapter for us. The campground these folks used to gather at, some for over fifteen years, had closed; the group and this new campground were strangers to each other, and so in many ways this was like a first date.  We could not have near as big fires as in the old place, but there was a great big beautiful lake, which was never a part of our festivals before. Some good, some sad. Such is the way of life, growth, and change.

The most important piece though, of course, is the community. The history of stories and shared experiences weave a thread through all of the festivals, in all of the places, and gathers with it pieces of each of our lives in the mix. The faces are the same, and some of the tents and rituals, so it wasn't that everything was unfamiliar. The two sides melded, like night and day do at sunset, into a beautiful expression of paradox - both, yet neither.

The duet that played that first night was lovely, singing songs of just the right style and energy. There was a vibe of giddiness as we hesitantly explored our new festival home. Happy, joyful, but just a bit cautious.

Surprisingly, we all seemed to find ourselves comfortably settling in. The night became alive with music and passion, singing and dancing. Things were not the same, but they weren't entirely different either. The new always has seeds of the old, and the old lends and informs the new, and the new learns and renews the old. These are the cycles, like those of nature that we gather to honor.

I think of wooden whisky barrels as they flavor the spirit, and then in turn are seasoned themselves; the flavors meld with each batch, so there bits of every cycle that came before. The wood flavors the whisky, the whisky flavors the wood, and again and again, as the seasons turn.

And this was only the first night...

Black Water

I heard an interview with Paul Auster on the radio the other day discussing his newest book. He related a story from when he was 14 years old - where another boy was struck and killed by lightning, just inches away from him. Understandably, this has affected him his entire life. An event like this - where chance cherry picks one person over another for some extreme event - inevitably causes a person to question: what if?, why them?, why not me?, and ultimately, what now? For the human mind, which seems wired for finding patterns and creating order, the constant chaos of our experiences certainly give us a lot to work with. Life has a steadfast commitment to unpredictability.

On my tasting outing this week, I discovered Red & The Romantics playing at The Whisky Jar. It's a regular Monday night gig for them, apparently, although it was my first time. This song of theirs is the most fitting to share, about the river of time - Black Water:

Before the whisky tasting, I met a friend for dinner at Revolutionary Soup on the downtown mall. We had a lovely meal of soup, salad, and a wrap. Always delicious, with often local and organic ingredients, this is one of my favorite dining spots in Cville.

I discovered a fun thing there that I hadn't noticed before: one of the tables is an old chess board with a small drawer built in. There is a little note inviting patrons to write a few words to leave in the drawer for future folks to discover. I've seen this sort of thing in coffee shops before, and I love the idea, in theory.

I shuffled through the pile of napkins, bottlecaps, and scraps of paper, reading snippets of strangers' days. Some were silly, some were sad, some poetic, hopeful, and/or mysterious. While I was mildly interested or intrigued by a few, for the most part they seemed wholly inconsequential. And of course, why wouldn't they be? Such an open invitation for connection between total strangers seems a bit like a shot in the dark. But there is something in such contrived randomness, isn't there? It leaves us hoping...even expecting, to discover something profound.

After our meal, my friend and I wandered over to the Whisky Jar to see what we could find. The band was jamming, and a beautiful sound of lively music and Red's deep, soulful voice filled the room. We sat down at the bar and were greeted by the super chill bartenders.

Romaine and Matt, my kind and friendly bartenders. 

I scanned the long menu of Scotches and was intending to try a new Islay, when I saw the listing of another variety that I had heard of: from the Orkney Isles - Highland Park Dark Origins. The mysterious name hooked me, so I ordered a dram.

I had tried the HP before, but wasn't impressed. This one was much nicer than I remembered the 10 year being. Reading a bit up on his background, I learned the name Dark Origins is a tribute to the distillery's early years, being somewhat of a black market operation when it first began. Dark Origins is aged completely in Sherry casks, most of them first-fill. This lends much to his character.


The nose was sweet, and the first taste deliciously creamy. Adding water didn't change much, however. If anything his nose became softer and lighter. Dark Origins, although technically not from the Highland region, reminded me of my favorite Highland lads, perhaps with a richer and slighlty more vanilla flavor.


The founding of HP's distillery is credited to Magnus Eunson, who apparently had the respectable positions of butcher and church official during the day, but who would smuggle whisky in the darker hours. Of course, there are questions around the facts of it all, and much must be left to the imagination.

As the night continued, I got to know the Orkney lad a little more. He was quite enjoyable overall. At times I tasted a hint of banana, and at others a bit of lemon or citrus, or a hint of smoke or ash. There was a salty, briney aspect that I've come to associate with the Island Scotches, and through it all a buttery caramel taste that was delightful. I wondered what the original Highland Park whisky would have tasted like, and if Magnus Eunson ever considered what his illicit actions might lead to hundreds of years in the future.

Much like the influence of the unpredictable and chaotic aspects of life, there is a romanticizing of history that comes with the passage of time. Whatever begins simply as missing facts or holes in a story soon blooms into a a shroud of mystery, and that is very satisfying. For truly, we are all romantic creatures at heart - searching for meaning and inspiration in our daily lives, so that we, in turn, may provide that for others.

I'll leave you with the words of Red & The Romantics: "The black water flows where nobody knows, and disappears into the night, so take down the bottle and let's have toast - to love, to death, and to life!"

Lowlands

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been overbooking myself. Despite this, I have managed to continue meeting new Scotches, but I have found myself more distracted than I'd prefer on those nights. The other evening I visited The Blue Moon Diner to see a few friends play in their new band before one of them leaves the country for a while. I don't know if this is an original, but one of the first songs I heard after I arrived was called "Lowlands."

It would have been fitting if there was a Lowland lad to try that evening, but the only Scotch there was from the Orkney Isles: Highland Park 10.

I had heard some passing remarks - he was popular, well-liked, seemed like a good guy to get to know. I had been looking forward to meeting him for a few weeks.
 
Before the water, my only impressions were that he was hot, and warm natured. His nose was a bit astringent and made me think of tobacco, and a hint of banana. Adding a bit of water didn't make too much difference. He definitely had a bite, and it wasn't until after some time passed that I started to taste any sweetness at all.

Overall, I found him hard to describe or pin down. I would go as far as to say he was exactly "nondescript" but that sounds so callous. I wanted to blame my state of mind, or perhaps the glass (it was just a standard tumbler). Maybe the glassware was wrong and I just wasn't tasting all his true flavors...

As the evening went on and I still found it hard to connect with this fellow, I thought of Glen from the week before. Nothing jumped out at me about him either, and they both seemed quite harsh. I started to wonder - could it be me? Is my busier-than-usual schedule shortening my attention span or dulling my interest in these guys?

I pondered for a while, and realized that even Talisker - who I can always turn to - seemed less captivating when I had a quick chat with him recently. Maybe it is just me...

Of course, Mercury is still in retrograde so I can always blame that. But also, it's been a while since I've tried a strong, smoky Islay, and those guys are always more my style. Still, I have definitely been feeling a disconnect.
 
I continued to sip the Highland Park, enjoying the experience, if somewhat disappointed. The music was lovely at least, so I sat back to listen to the songs and laugh with the company. Here is another taste of the talent - a bittersweet song with one line that deeply resonated with me; the recording isn't great, but it's an original by Fiona Balestrieri:

  

"I will keep a walking distance between me and my heart." 

 

Ah, don't we all know those times - when life requires that very thing from us. All too often, there are vast oceans that lie between the hopes of the past and the possibilities of the present.

A good friend of mine said these words to me tonight:

"It's nice to have someone who makes you feel like vacation."

Oh...so true. I had someone in my life like that once. I suppose I'm looking for that kind of quality in a Scotch these days. The trouble is, when you keep such a distance from your heart, it's hard to find the kind of connection that inspires such a deep relaxation. As busy as I've been this month, I could go for that feeling right about now. Maybe it's past time to slow down just a bit - after all, my perfect Scotch is waiting...