My mother made the same brilliant impression upon my childhood's eye. She shone for me like the Evening Star. I loved her dearly—but at a distance. My nurse was my confidante. Mrs. Everest it was who looked after me and tended all my wants. It was to her I poured out my many troubles, both now and in my schooldays.

It’s been amazing to be able to spend so much time with her. I’ve joined a couple of tours last year and I’m going to visit her in Denver soon. And that sense of trust we were talking about, I mean, she really pushes me to do anything I want to do. She’s really helping to instill a new kind of confidence in me, whether that’s collaborating with a certain musician or visual artist, or indulging in a different style of improvisation…

Every time I call my wife or my friends or my mother or whoever and I say, “I fucked it up this time,” and then at the end of it, I feel okay. I resolved what I can do with this.

I prayed a lot about it. I sought a lot of advice from my dad.

If im fearful of the project, then I know that I am on to something interesting.

It’s really a kind of roadmap or a record. It’s breadcrumbs in the forest. It’s like the hieroglyphic on the wall. It’s me attempting to code some sort of roadmap that helps us think and act our way out of these conditions.

It requires me to be in prayer and meditation daily, or else I will literally spiral out. It’s something that I put at the forefront of my life.

So I don’t ever feel the urge to kind of rewrite the work.

I’m leaving these things behind so that in 2076 someone can say, “Oh, wow. OK, so this is what they were dealing with,” and maybe they can draw some sort of parallel to whatever is happening in their reality right now, the conditions that they face right now, as much as I can draw a parallel from what Fred Hampton was talking about to what I’m experiencing now.

Visibility doesn’t equal power.