MAP - The Making of Rain with Sun - Brook's Poetic Ecosystems.
Updated: Nov 15
My novel's title is Sunshower [Lluvia con Sol], which title was inspired by a song written and composed by Jaime Roos. Maestro guitarist Federico Navarro created a fantastic cover, and the beautiful Sirena sang the verses in Spanish and English. Federico Ramos provided the footage from the Big Sur's Redwoods. The result is a stunning video entitled ©Rain with Sun.
I will soon share stories about the mind-blowing but always creative connections and confluences spanning thirty years between me, Federico Ramos, Federico Navarro and Jaime Roos. "The Magic of Music --Musicians as Magicians."
Check out a gorgeous playlist for my [relentless] work in progress entitled Sunshower [Lluvia con Sol]. Rain with Sun is a video inspired in a scene from novel.
Here is the entire playlist chapter by chapter, and featured links to songs and videos.
Excerpt from ©Sunshower [Lluvia con Sol]
Chapter Eleven: The Shoulders of the Giants
[where we stand upon]”
– a [n eternal] work in progress –
Brook listened to Pat Metheny’s “Are You Going with Me” while getting dressed in Eric’s khaki shorts, and their T-shirt with the print Shhh. Brook tighten the strings of their new hiking boots, spread sunscreen on their face and arms, put on their birth parent’s baseball cap with the inscriptions A Little Tupac a Little Deepak, and packed their high school backpack with snacks and water bottles from the Honeymoon cabin at Sequoia National Park.
Brook thought that they walked toward the General Sherman Tree Trail but ended where the Buttress Tree rested, fallen but dignified. And then and there, almost hidden below the giant roots, Eric sat writing on his journal. His left-hand rushed under the streaming of words pouring down from his mind—a waterfall of words. Eric was running with words, sweating his pain out through the pages’ pores. Brook arrived at his feet, and when Eric saw the boots stopping in front of his, one foot in, crooked, he looked up, his eyes squinted as though seeing a vision— the sun drew an aura outlining Brook’s silhouette with amber light.
Eric said, “Did you know that this tree is 272 feet long, measures 20 feet in diameter, lived 2,300 years, and fell without any warning on the third day of a June, fifty years ago?”
Brook laughed so raucously that their head lolled back a bit, and the sound of their laughter traveled upward to the blue sky, reverberating beyond the high tops of the surrounding giants.
“No, I didn’t know. But I’m impressed that you’ve managed to memorize so many numbers!” Brook crouched to kiss Eric on his mouth. His mouth tasted like a hangover of tears. Brook put the Malibu baseball cap on Eric–a heart-shaped design with the name of many beaches in Malibu, including Big Rock, Latigo Canyon, Point Dume, Zumirez. They touched his nose with the tip of their finger. Brook stood up and started to walk alongside the tree, aiming to go around its entire perimeter. Eric went the opposite way around the large roots, so the two met in the middle, halfway on the other side of the sleeping giant.
Imitating Michael Caine's voice, Eric said, “Hello there, bonnie lass! Would you care accompanying me to walk by the Three Rivers? Beware that there’s quite a hike, but should you be willing to hold my arm, we could walk to the wonderful Marble Falls! ‘Bout 8 miles, ‘bout 4 hours round-trip.”
“I shall be delighted to accompany thee, kind sir, Prince Eric. It’s a beautiful day!” said Brook with a poorly achieved British accent. But Brook sensed that a storm was brewing in the air and they forecast its unspooling.
The couple remained absorbing the scenery, caught up in each detail, the sheer beauty of the riverscape. The shape of the rocks and boulders, the constant change of the water falling and flowing, bubbling over rolling stones, squeezing between rocks, slithering upon moss. The moss dressed rocks and tree trunks with furry and feathery greens, lichen shaped as floral prints of indigoes, grays and beiges. The sounds of the river filled the air with music, pouring water into the woods, as a Palo de Lluvia.
Eric said, “There was no light in those eyes; no more suffering. I aimed to finish such pain, but I’ve never been able to finish mine.” Eric gazed at Brook with unfocused vision—their shape was blurred by his teary eyes and the amber light that filtered through the treetops of Sequoias and Redwoods cast dancing leaf-shaped shadows. Brook stared back at Eric but said nothing. Time stood still, but time still sought the light as though going upwards over the long trunk of a tree.
Eric covered his face with his hands and sobbed; his torso trembled in sporadic spasms. The falling water, the bubbling of the river, and the birds’ chirping would not cloak the howls that came out from Eric’s mouth. Lightning bolts and thunders rained out.
Brook stood on the rock and slowly, turned around, balancing their lanky body as if walking on a tight rope. Trending the Kaweah River water with their long legs, Brook walked over to Eric, as if on water. They placed their cupped hands on Eric’s knees and Brook parted Eric’s legs swiftly. Brook lifted Eric’s chin with their index finger and the lovers’ gazes locked–glassy green eyes eavesdropping into teary blue iris. Eric closed his eyes tight and a tear burst between his black eye lashes and falling down his cheeks. Brook’s arms circled Eric’s body. Brook’s knees generated ripples ebbing out as their legs shivered.
Eric buried his face in Brook’s chest against their black T-shirt that read Shhh drawn over a pentagram, next to a clef—silence in music is another kind of sound altogether. Brook’s tears fell over Eric’s black hair, and their yellow, unevenly chopped hair showered over Eric’s soft waves. Brook’s hands stroke Eric’s shoulders, the small of his back. Eric's arms dropped down unlively.
Brook began to sing Jaime Roos’ “Lluvia con Sol,” and Eric’s sobs slowly silenced down. Brook sang the first verses in Spanish switching into an improvised English translation, back and forth, verse after verse, while rocking both their bodies slowly at the pace of an elemental lullaby. Eric began to hum the melody of Rain with Sun. Eric looked up into Brook's eyes and nodded. He was alright.
Dijiste que lloverá
Todo un arte y sin embargo
Se están burlando de vos
Se ríen de vos
Y tu mirada es,
tu mirada sigue siendo igual
Lluvia con sol
Más aquí está
Ya está aquí la tempestad
Lluvia con sol
You said that it will rain
A whole art and nonetheless,
People are mocking you
People scoff at you
And your gaze is
Your gaze remains serene
Rain with sun
But it’s here already
The tempest is here
Rain with sun.
“Lluvia con Sol,” a song by Jaime Roos.
Translated by Cecilia Martinez-Gil
[with his permission and approval]