A box into a box in a box

Where the songs come from? I dare to say that every song is in our eyes before it makes the trip from the waves of our brain to the waves in the air. Songs are there happening, not in the people or scenes that surround us, but in the invisible lines between them, and then the lines connecting all that with my own feelings. A box in a box, in a box, and also a mandala.

Rhythm is a physic, visual and acoustic phenomena. When you are reading music, you recognize - visually - a rhythm pattern which is associated to a form and the mechanics that let you make the rhythm reveals in the world. If you are a painter it will be made of color and form, if you got a guitar it will be made of sounds and silence.
Can you recognize the rhythm around you?
Observation is one of the main abilities to develop for a song writer. I think it demands some kind of a contemplation state of mind. Passively perceiving events, catching little details, gestures all of them fragments of a story to be told. It implies that everything we see is a metaphor, accepting that reality is merely an illusion strongly connected to other kind of images, the inner ones. Perception is therefore the form of reality. A box in a box.
So -sometimes- I can see the box and perceive the other ones inside. The relation between a face, a landscape, a certain word at a specific context, all happening this morning at the park. All that in "reality" looks unconnected, except if you can see the rhythm figure that makes them one.
I use to carry a little notebook with me and write down what I see. Many songs I've done come from this little red notebook.
When nothing seems to catch my attention, I practice this little game: to represent in an image my actual feelings. Even when I'm really distracted (what is usually called blocked) some material come up.
For example this morning, after an hour trying to get something out of my guitar - and got nothing- I was feeling like a box inside a box. And the I wrote this.

Three boxes, one with a secret inside. The grey is my soul, the white is my mind , and the other on the left is my hearth.
Three boxes each with another in. On Water is one, ice covered outside, and secret into it feeding fire hands.


- Posted at some point in the road