Kendálin's CD, Opening, is available as a download from DigStation, and as a hold-it-in-your-hand CD from CDBaby. For more information on the CD, click here.
O the waves crash in and the tide pulls out. It's an angry sea but there is no doubt, that the lighthouse will keep shining out to warn the lonely sailor. The lightning strikes & the wind cuts cold, through the sailor's bones to the sailor's soul, till there's nothing left that she can hold except the rolling ocean.
But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready. I am ready for the storm. I'm ready for the storm.
Oh give me mercy for my dreams, for every confrontation seems to tell me what it really means to be this lonely sailor. And then the sky begins to clear, the sun it melts away my fear, I'll cry a silent weary tear, for those that need to love me.
But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready. I am ready for the storm. I'm ready for the storm.
The distance it is no real friend and time will take its time. And you will find that in the end it brings you me, the lonely sailor. And when you take me by your side, you love me warm, you love me, and I should have realized I had no reason to be frightened.
But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready. I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready. I am ready for the storm. I'm ready for the storm.
Traditional Shawn’s take on this traditional tune.
My Johnny was a shoemaker, and dearly he loved me. My Johnny was a shoemaker, but now he’s gone to sea. With pitch and tar to soil his hand, and to sail across the sea, stormy sea, and sail across the stormy sea.
His jacket was a deep sky blue, and curly was his hair. His jacket was a deep sky blue, it was I do declare. For to reeve the topsails up against the mast, and to sail across the sea, stormy sea, and sail across the stormy sea.
Someday he’ll be a captain bold, with a brave and a gallant crew. Someday he’ll be a captain bold, with a sword and spyglass too. And when he has a gallant captain’s sword, he’ll come home and marry me, marry me. He’ll come home and marry me.
Tasha Harmon and Ellen Silva A “tiny little song on a tiny little subject” written in 45 minutes as a songwriting assignment at the Puget Sound Guitar Workshop; the best songwriting prompt Tasha’s ever gotten.
Soft wings, grey against white, moving through shadows of pine. Wide moon, December soft air, all my planets in line.
Still wind. Still me. Body tied to ground beneath my feet. Open eyes. Open hands. Empty my year into the land.
Trees bare, branches lace, framing fragments of the lake. Blue fades. Dark comes. Silence whispers me awake.
Still wind. Still me. Body tied to ground beneath my feet. Open eyes. Open hands. Empty my year into the land.
Timothy Hull Timothy is a wonderful songwriter. Check out his many albums at Timothyhull.org
There’s a woman in the next room, Katrina is her name. Black crows in the garden, wind banging in the gate. Bobby’s working on the ferry, Lotta’s making tea I am upstairs writing, there is no one here but me.
Wind in the chimney, moon on the rise. Slipping from twilight, into the dark of your eyes.
Helping Logi bring the cows in on a blustery day, all the things that I’ve been worryin’ about got blown away. I climbed into the higher hills, gazed out on the sea, rubbed two stones together, wondered where you might be.
Wind in the chimney, moon on the rise Slipping from twilight, into the dark of your eyes.
Diggin’ seaweed in the garden, to fertilize the land You were my vision, and it was so grand. Down among the rocky coves I had salt spray on my lips. I could taste the ocean when we kissed.
Wind in the chimney, moon on the rise. Slipping from twilight, into the dark of your eyes.
There’s a light behind the curtain of the man who keeps the honeybees I pass in silence and I think I might freeze. To the bay at the back of the ocean, standing on the shore Could you hear me if I called you, could I see you once more?
Wind in the chimney, moon on the rise Slipping from twilight, into the dark of your eyes. Wind in the chimney, moon on the rise. Slipping through twilight...
Rising winds and graying skies, waves that pound the sands pulling at the walls I’ve built to keep me on dry land. Two long years of drought I’ve lived, too worn and too afraid to open to the storms I know will wash me clean away. But now the walls I built to keep the storms of life at bay crumble all around me as the sand beneath gives way.
We can ride the waves. We can love the wind. We can hold or bend or dance in the storm.
Pummeled by the wreckage, battered by the sea, worn down by the wind and tide, I find a way to me. The storm winds sink to whispering leaves. The waters slow and sigh, and sleep slips ever closer in my heart's own lullaby.
We can ride the waves. We can love the wind. We can hold or bend or dance in the storm.
And waking from my sleep I find the sun’s warmth in my soul, and your clear smile and outstretched hand, and eyes that see me whole. Your eyes see me whole.
And when the rain has soaked us through, and waves have worn us down, we will have our two wide hearts as shelter from the storm.
We can ride the waves. We can love the wind. We can hold or bend or dance in the storm.
Tasha Harmon, Heide Goertzen, Shawn Orpinela, Jeffrey Kolwitz A very collective effort by the 2005 iteration of what has become Kendálin.
We rise at early morning, to break bread with the dawn. Tonight is summer solstice, we’ll dance the whole night long. We’ll gather all together, celebrate the sun, watch it sink to evening, darkening’s begun. Gather all together, celebrate the sun, watch it sink to evening, darkening’s begun.
Dance the spiral turning. Dance the circle ‘round. Weave our souls together. Let our voices sound. Dance the spiral turning. Dance the circle ‘round. Weave our souls together. We are homeward bound.
We’ll harvest from the garden the best the sun has made. The first little tomatoes, the peas grown in the shade. The lettuce and the endive, berries red and blue, combine them all with joy to share with all of you. Lettuce and the endive, berries red and blue, combine them all with love to share with all of you.
Dance the spiral turning. Dance the circle ‘round. Weave our souls together. Let our voices sound. Dance the spiral turning. Dance the circle ‘round. Weave our souls together. We are homeward bound.
We’ll gather in the clearing, and build the fire high, sing and pass the fiddle, and eat up all the pie, tell stories tall and true and speak of things to come and when the shortest night falls we’ll beat upon the drum. Gather all together, celebrate the sun, watch it sink to evening, darkening’s begun.
Dance the spiral turning. Dance the circle ‘round. Weave our souls together. Let our voices sound. Dance the spiral turning. Dance the circle ‘round. Weave our souls together. We are homeward bound.
