Imagine it—Summer 1992 in Portland, a city cradled by forests where golden sunlight filtered through the trees and illuminated the buildings near Powell's Books. I turned the big two-five and fate decides to gift me a night to remember. The scene is set at the Roseland Theater, a cathedral of the gothic sound. My friend and I, two kindred spirits, stepped into that sacred space where music transcends the ordinary. We were there to witness one of my favorite goth musicians, the harbinger of shadow and light, Peter Murphy.
The show wasn't just a performance; it was a journey into the depths of the human psyche, a brush with the archetypes that Jung whispered about. Back then, I didn't fully grasp the significance of it all. But as years rolled on, I understood—sometimes to grow, you must delve into the shadowlands. It's in those dark, fertile places that creativity, courage, and infinite possibilities spring forth.
We often celebrate the sunlit days of growth, but true nourishment comes when we plunge our roots deep into the gothic soil. It’s there, in the haunting melodies and dimly lit spaces, that we draw up the essence of life, breathe in the air of possibility, and dance to the rhythm of gothic reverie.
Being it was my birthday, my friend gifted me a Peter Murphy t-shirt, a talisman of that night. I wore it like armor, carrying the magic of that evening with me. Alas, during a stint at my grandmother's house, the shirt disappeared—likely banished by her, mistaking the dark enchantment for devil magic. But oh, it was magic, the kind that transports you to realms brimming with that darling, dark wonder.
Here's to the darkness that nourishes our roots and the light that dances in the shadows.
