I Used to Believe... Do I Still?!
The initial spark for “Architect of Time” occurred when I first went to Tangier following my father’s passing a while back. It was a very troubled time for me, emotionally distressing, driven by all the repressed frustrations and growing anger I had kept deep down within me for years up to that point in my life. But contrary to the other raging entries from that period I had in my notebooks, “Architect of Time” was a more composed reflective piece, which I believe marked a major shift in the affective recovery I couldn’t suspect that trip would become or was unconsciously about. It’s a moment of pure lucidity, a totally transparent type of honesty, where I freely express what used to define “me” in terms of absolutes and what had become too heavy to hold on to… Like a place where idealistic foundational beliefs are confronted with one’s excruciating inner-desperations reality, creating such an internal and spiritual confusion that we don’t want to look into it for fear of realizing that some – if not all – of what we thought constituted our life cornerstones is only what we wanted to make out of this reality…
Therefore, the song’s general feel might be seen as particularly grim to face at first, if not pretty confrontational to anyone’s values, convictions, principles, faith, and beliefs. But it’s when we actually go beyond our own discomfort over the forthcoming questions so vividly exposed in the lyrics that we can begin to perceive the emancipation state of a soul denuding itself from everything that used to define what it wanted to see of itself. It’s a moment of lucency opening the otherwise locked door of our heart, eventually allowing us to envision the possibilities to build ourselves back up, one small piece at a time, free from the forgery and deception we might have turned some of those so-called essential elements determining our identity’s fabric through the stream of our existence. It’s a challenging approach to look at who we are without the veil of our well-designed illusions…
In fact, I remembered when I first demoed “Architect Of Time” to Ben a few years later. If the repeating succession of “I used to believe…” seemed musingly liberating for him, the line “I used to believe in God, kneeling, hoping for Heaven” led to quite a heated argument when he heard it. For him, it was like denying my faith; he didn’t see the global nuances that came with it all. For him, it wasn’t hopelessness or sorrowfulness; it meant that I had come to the realization that believing in God was a total fraud of the mind, a dupery, and a hoax. I had forgotten just how intense of a conversation it had been. For him, saying “I used to believe” wasn’t “questioning”; it was publicly confessing that I no longer believed in God, when in reality, it had nothing to do with that. It was more about the concept of aligning my life with whatever dogmatic idolization one kneels in front of. God isn’t an organized religion for me – not anymore, anyway. It’s in no way judgmental of people who believe in such structural settings. I have dear friends from all spheres of life spectrum; pastors, Imams, social activists, life coaches, and so on. We all belong to a “religion”, no matter the name we give it, and that was my whole point; dogmatism versus emancipation.
If Ben understood my point of view and accepted the way I needed to express the emotions related to it, I think his own lifestream led him to not only embrace those words but to essentially make them his own, as they incarnate a meaning of their own. Interestingly enough, it would be the only occasion on which I would be confronted with my own lyrics over the extensive period of our artistic collaboration, a moment that has been incredibly beneficial for me as it stood as a significant reminder that words have the power to generate life or death, to empower transformative reflections or prevent any possible rejuvenation. Therefore, every time I have the utmost privilege of sharing my lyrical perspectives and introspections with someone, that conversation I had with Ben always comes to mind. Don’t write “cool”. Commune with “honesty”… And the blessing of doing so, I still profoundly believe in!!!
Therefore, the song’s general feel might be seen as particularly grim to face at first, if not pretty confrontational to anyone’s values, convictions, principles, faith, and beliefs. But it’s when we actually go beyond our own discomfort over the forthcoming questions so vividly exposed in the lyrics that we can begin to perceive the emancipation state of a soul denuding itself from everything that used to define what it wanted to see of itself. It’s a moment of lucency opening the otherwise locked door of our heart, eventually allowing us to envision the possibilities to build ourselves back up, one small piece at a time, free from the forgery and deception we might have turned some of those so-called essential elements determining our identity’s fabric through the stream of our existence. It’s a challenging approach to look at who we are without the veil of our well-designed illusions…
In fact, I remembered when I first demoed “Architect Of Time” to Ben a few years later. If the repeating succession of “I used to believe…” seemed musingly liberating for him, the line “I used to believe in God, kneeling, hoping for Heaven” led to quite a heated argument when he heard it. For him, it was like denying my faith; he didn’t see the global nuances that came with it all. For him, it wasn’t hopelessness or sorrowfulness; it meant that I had come to the realization that believing in God was a total fraud of the mind, a dupery, and a hoax. I had forgotten just how intense of a conversation it had been. For him, saying “I used to believe” wasn’t “questioning”; it was publicly confessing that I no longer believed in God, when in reality, it had nothing to do with that. It was more about the concept of aligning my life with whatever dogmatic idolization one kneels in front of. God isn’t an organized religion for me – not anymore, anyway. It’s in no way judgmental of people who believe in such structural settings. I have dear friends from all spheres of life spectrum; pastors, Imams, social activists, life coaches, and so on. We all belong to a “religion”, no matter the name we give it, and that was my whole point; dogmatism versus emancipation.
If Ben understood my point of view and accepted the way I needed to express the emotions related to it, I think his own lifestream led him to not only embrace those words but to essentially make them his own, as they incarnate a meaning of their own. Interestingly enough, it would be the only occasion on which I would be confronted with my own lyrics over the extensive period of our artistic collaboration, a moment that has been incredibly beneficial for me as it stood as a significant reminder that words have the power to generate life or death, to empower transformative reflections or prevent any possible rejuvenation. Therefore, every time I have the utmost privilege of sharing my lyrical perspectives and introspections with someone, that conversation I had with Ben always comes to mind. Don’t write “cool”. Commune with “honesty”… And the blessing of doing so, I still profoundly believe in!!!
