A life lived in the reveling of another world set apart for the heathens of the time. When you’re strange, it’s dark, but art can come from a dark place, too. The stars are only seen at night. In this darkness, Jim Morrison shines as a star of his time. A drug user and a sexual deviant, he is, at the core, an artist hellbent on revealing the gold that sits under the dirt.
We march to shamanistic rhythms that stand in stark contrast to the beloved ideals of the age. The stars are seen clearly in the darkness of the night sky, but the darkness is only so bold as to grace the heavenly lights with a contrast.
‘People are strange when you’re a stranger, faces look ugly when you’re alone.’
An outcast is, at worst, hated and, at best, pushed aside. But what does the heathen do when he is praised? I suppose he glories in the darkness that sets him apart. But the darkness is feared by most. Eyes fail to make out the composition of figures seen in the dark. It’s like the mind can’t make sense of its surroundings. But stars are only seen where shadows fail to fall.
Nothing best describes this than ‘People Are Strange’ by The Doors. It’s a call for all outcasts who have been pushed to the side and demonized. It may be that what is dark cannot escape its own innate nature. It may be that the times were separated by the Gods of the time. The sun cats shadows, but the lights that shine in the darkness only serve to draw the attention of all who stand beneath them.
The youth are warned of the dangers of hedonism as they are told tales of the monsters that hide in the darkness. ‘When your strange faces come out of the rain’ on a dark, dismal day, it’s best to stay inside where the warmth and light of a fire can comfort those who wish to remain secure in their own home. But for me, the rain always painted the perfect picture for a day filled with fun.
Jim Morrison was never given the option to stay indoors. I always relished the joys of a rainy day. He may have, too. What’s comfortable to some may not be comfortable to you. And what’s despised by all may bring joy to those caught in the revelry of the madness of it all.
Something that doesn’t quite fit the picture. Something that flies in the face of those beloved ideals. All is set apart, but what glories await those who venture into the darkness? The heavenly abodes of the Gods of the ages. And it’s worthwhile to bask in the radiance of that set apart.
Stories are always told of these figures. Is it any wonder that the same picture is getting the glory of our days? A tale is told of those figures that stand above the darkness. A figure that has ascended the madness of the revelry of our days is praised above all.
But is he capable of interacting with others? He may have lost his mind. He speaks as a shaman lost in the Satanic riddles of his own madness. ‘People are strange,’ maybe because he can’t quite understand why they march to the beat of another rhythm.
‘Faces look ugly when you’re alone.’ It may be that the madness that sets him apart causes him to stand as an outcast. A devil of sorts, but that old devil is always considered an enemy, even to the closest of friends. But I suppose all that heed this shamanistic call can rally in the way that when standing alone, we stand together. Divided, we stand as one. Set apart, we choose the divine madness that has portrayed us as individuals.
‘When you’re strange, no one remembers your name,’ so I suppose the deeds must be worthy of a God. And with all the madness of a shaman with all his Satanic riddles, he must also stand apart. This paints the perfect picture for divine light to stand apart from the darkness but only by deed. And so I suppose a rockstar must be depicted alongside his wild antics. With this depiction of a God, Jim Morrison rose above all the madness and shined as a star above all others.
A character known for his deeds rather than his beliefs or his wisdom. And with his deeds are a thousand tales that encapsulate his age’s darkness. But Jim Morrison was anything but a prophet, choosing to be hailed as a shaman instead. Is it any wonder he chose rhythm and rhyme to depict his mad world? It’s as if the stars speak, but the deep void of time stands eternal.
The stars mold and shape our world even with the darkness surrounding them. They set the picture, and all is seen under the neon lights of Sunset Strip, his local hangout spot. They took to his rhythm and beat as he led an army of outcasts into the realms of the Gods. But those who are set apart stand apart throughout that eternal void.
But only the stars set an eternal picture. And it is only by their deeds that they walk among men. The outcast is an outcast, but when praised, they rise above all the darkness of their world. So it’s no wonder that Jim Morrison mostly reveled in his music and poetry with talk of his hedonism.
Talks of wild nights filled with debauchery and howling at the moon. All stand apart, but all are warned of him and his spoken words. ‘People are strange when you’re a stranger,’ an unknown, another. Someone who does not paint the perfect picture. One that stands in contrast to those beloved ideals. It doesn’t quite make sense. But neither does that encounter with a cop backstage at a club on the Sunset Strip. So, I suppose nothing makes sense other than their otherworldly glow.
The youth are warned of the dangers of the Sunset Strip as they are warned of the dangers of hedonism and debauchery. But why is it ever so tempting to venture into the unknown? It’s as if the monster under the bed or what lurks behind the shadows at night draws the attention first, and what comes after is the venturing into the unknown.
Jim Morrison stood as a star that sat above the darkness. But that darkness must first be sought out and discovered. Did you know that the band first began their shows with their backs facing the audience?
‘People are strange when you’re a stranger. Faces look ugly when you’re alone.’
I suppose it could be said that what is unseen is not to be sought out. Maybe the deep-seated conviction that the darkness should not be idolized caused them to turn their backs on their audience. But I suppose a star cannot help but draw the attention. And what cannot be fought against is eventually embraced. A heavenly glow awaits those who embrace the darkness.
This essay was written by Bryan Montijo, who primarily focuses on music, spirituality, and psychedelics. Bryan has written a few novels, which can be found at wattpad@CraftedTales. He also has his own blog, where he discusses everything he loves, from music to nature and writing. You can find it here at medium@bmontijo555.
Leave a Reply