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by Ayla Nereo

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emmyfayepcole My 5 yo daughter & I both love Featherd Bow. It's such a powerful massage that has given me such hope when I'm low & brooding over past mistakes. It really helps me get out of those pesky negative thought patterns and reminds me that I still have a bright future full of possibilities ahead of me. Favorite track: Feathered Bow.
Sven B. Schreiber (sbs)
Sven B. Schreiber (sbs) thumbnail
Sven B. Schreiber (sbs) This is what a perfect singer-songwriter album sounds like. It's minimalist, but remarkably rich at the same time, thanks to superb harmony vocals and unusual arrangements. Ayla Nereo demonstrates that it's not necessary to use a pile of special effects in order to leave a lasting impression. It just takes sincerity and authenticity. Favorite track: I Could Write.
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crystalhoney This morning I wished for high vibration music but didn’t know where to find it. Then literally minuets after having the thought/desire I listed to Lotus Sky’s interview w/ Ayla. All I can say is WOW!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you Ayla for this vibrationally conscious music. Truly spectacular !!!
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Oh Love! 02:46
Oh Love! Tearin' me apart from the inside out so I can see myself from the inside... Oh Love! Tearin' me apart from the inside out so I can see myself from the inside... Oh Love! Tearin' you apart from the inside out so you can see yourself from the inside... Oh Love! Tearin' us apart from the inside out so we can see ourselvesself from the inside... And might be causin' pain. And might be coming home. And might be sayin' this is all you asked for…
In the midst of a patch full of morning, I call to you... In the mid-way between going and arriving, I call to you... Into the darkness behind closed eyelids again, I call to you... Into the search for your door I keep knocking, as I call to you... And there is never the same path twice, and there is never the same door found, and though I call your name each moment, you simply echo back in round, singin, Hello Beloved, sweet – Who am I today? (today all is changing) Looking deeper deep – Who am I today? (it is all around you, deep within and everything)
There was a flame, there was a flame, drawn deep within her chest, rest and rise, praying burned every moment. There was a spark, there was a spark, come from the same place, billions and billions of years ago, and she knows it. There was a while where it was wide, there was a wide waterfall down, water fall round her, only just born. There was a light, come from her eyes, there was a light, let it come in, choosing her sin every morning. Choosing to be saved, saving herself every morning... choosing her name, naming herself, every morning... And she sang, “Don't unstring the arrow, I'm a feathered bow, I've got a long long way to go still, long long way to go…”
Colors 03:11
When life comes to center, it enters as hope, chosen to tremble and walk on this rope, we are born of another, of all this entwined, show me a temple, I'll show you a mirror… I pause, my reflection be rippled and puddled, turned by the whistle, by signs still uncovered, I wait to be patient, impressive and bold, cold with desire I try to let go… Speak me now, speaking me now, oh speak with me now, speaking me… move me now, move with me now, moving me… pick up the pages, let 'em fall open, pen dancing paper made ages ago, truth in the poet, his bridge clear and pure – don't ask what love is for, made to do, made to do… look at the colors, look at the world… speak me now… move me now… when love comes to center, I hear it is told, we turn with the wheel as a colorful spoke, and life is the cycler, and all this the road, and I am in love with the colors of your soul
Here I try to write it, upright again, upright. Here I try to right it, upright, and how I've missed you so… Just to be, just to be with you… and I could write of the broken tables upturned, broken china, in my insides broken windows. And I could write of a wrinkled letter, posted stabbing folded, yesteryear, holding on. But would it serve you? And I could write of the dirty corners, cobwebs still stuck to me, lacy white and hard to reach. And I could write of a mixed-up morning, hands upon these shoulders, heavy, still not knowing. Would it serve you? How could it serve you? (And in the lines I see the spiral of my trail, and in the dark I see the pattern of a rail...) Moving, deeper, listen, slowly I fall away… And I'd like to write of the worldly weather, clouds over these shoulders, changing getting outta myself. And I'd like to write of all that holds you, but cannot quite see into, so come shortened parables. I'd like to turn upon the shadows, thrust upon them candles, give 'em to the sun set down. I'd like to learn from old volcanoes, spew what we do not need, what we do not need, what we do not like, to write, the silence between what I'd like and what I'm merely being… And in the lines I see the pattern of a rail, and in the dark I see the spiral of my trail
Rest, Child 02:07
I attended to my heart, and she said, “Rest, Child, Be Still… Remember to be gentle with your Will… All that's pulling you to be or tugging on your sleeve is not as it seems, does not matter in the least, 'cept for the way it helps you breathe your life… And she said, Rest, Child, Be Still… remember no one's judging you but your own self, and remember nothing's known except for what's beheld, and even then we can't be sure, so please forgive yourself, child…” Rest, child, Be Still…
I feel the winds of the West, outbreath, letting go of my leaves, all I do not need. Into the darkness of the fall sunset, I release, receive, getting ready for the Silence
Thorny Rose 03:52
Hidden by the roadside flying by this thorny rose, may I be given all that grows me, can you show me how to grow… though I may feel weak, may feel tender for the longing, still my backbone chose these burdens, chose the boulders to be shouldered, yes I chose them… And in the night my eyes take on the thick of it, the cyclone screaming wind of it, the drowning in the wave of it, the keep my breath above of it, to breathe with all the heart of it, to breathe with all my heart… so Gentle, I am calling… Gentle, I do summon all your being… Gentle, so you can hold all of the folds of all the parts that become sore, when waves crash shorelines to this heart, and beat by beat taken apart, to gather in an tend to greater tenderness… I tend to my own tenderness… But hidden by the roadside flying by this thorny rose, I'm told to let it all unfold inside this heart, but wasn't told how sharp the thorns would pierce my throat when bloom was spoken… and though I may feel tender, still to thorns I shall surrender, whether cloaked in shapes I will mistake for stories, made my own expense and often… so Gentle, I am calling…
Wasted Hours 05:01
This is a song for all the wasted hours spent pining after someone, and all the wasted flowers, you wanted just to give them out, and all the wasted words, tryin to prove they were good for you – it's not wasted breath... Cause all those wasted hours were tryin to show you something more about those wasted flowers, to see just what you're giving for, and all those wasted words were heard and spoken simply to be your truth, simply to be heard and spoken by you… And what is my truth? And what do I want to say? And what is my meaning? And what is my way? Cause I feel so empty sometimes, feels like I need another to fill this hole inside, and I'm reachin, I'm searchin, I'm seekin, and I'm wantin, I'm askin, I'm needin… And maybe baby you can go down deep – where is that hole? Maybe baby you can go in deeper – what does it sound like? Maybe baby you can find what you seek – into the darkness. Maybe baby you will find much more – listening to silence… And I do not want to give anything less than love. And I do not want to settle for anything less than your whole heart. And I do not want to give anything less than love! And I do not want you to settle for anything less than my whole heart… It's holy… Nothing excluded, nothing outside, there are no exceptions to what is divine… And it's not wasted hours spent being alone just with yourself; and no wasted flowers given just for giving out; and no wasted words, heard and spoken simply to be your truth, simply to be heard and spoken… it's not wasted breath… And it's not wasted hours trying to understand why you love someone, and how you want to be loved, trying to get to know yourself so you can love yourself that much
It's Okay 03:19
It's okay to be private, it's okay to cry, it's okay to hold back or hold things inside. It's okay to scream, to release them, to be seen, it's okay to be seen, it's okay to receive. It's okay to notice, to stop and to stare, cause the beauty it blinds you and holds you right there. It's okay to listen, one ear to the ground, one ear to the sky tree street or heart that you pound. It's okay to giggle a little to yourself, cause the Spirit, it tickles as it enters as sound… it's okay to sing it, in fact, it's encouraged – it don't matter how soft rough vivid or tender or out or in key, as long as you mean it, as long as you mean it, you're giving permission for others to sing it… and all things for that matter, go as deep as you feel it, the deeper you mean it, the more the stars can hear it. The deeper you mean it, the more healing can happen, the earth heart opens, connects to your own, beating song light swimming, flying in space, floating like grace, alone and together, and one, and yet Still, an instant, an impulse, individual, tone beat sound, sing itself, singin self… it's okay to pray, to be deep, to be light, to just breathe, it's okay to be exactly as you are…
You lead, lead, lead us all up to the edge. We hold, hold, holding hands tight, hold our breath. And step, step, trip over rocks, feel emptiness, we rise, rise, open eyes, see where from we have come. So breathe, breath, breathe, perch as bird as bird upon the ledge, to take, take in, and receive all we have met. The sigh, silent call of time in each speck of sand, that comes, coats, wraps, like an arm, held to this land anew… Asalam Shalom, asalam shalom, asalam shalom aleichem salam asalam alaikum shalom aleichem salam, asalamu alaikum, shalOm… The sky is the same here, no matter where I stand, harmless blue, gentle peaceful blue, holding life, holding birds still looking for their homes to land, yes the sky is the same here no matter where I stand… loose like a willow, lose yourself, lose your self-consciousness, break like a shell, fall apart, let it all come in…cause the sky is the same here, no matter where I stand… so breathe, breath, breath…
The ice is receding on the sacred mountain, as though it were tradition. One long walk once a year to remember our connection. And though it is the whole world's doing, each drop, each molecule of ice merging melting on – still we do not make that cut, we choose not to remove one part, we do not make that cut. For though it is caused by the whole world's undertaking, the responsibility is ours to do what we're able… When a species literally begins to destroy the very essence of its own survival options, we must pause to consider the profound severity of our collective situation. Since we continue and continue and continue, it suggests either species-wide madness, or something quite different… This is our life, this is what it's like; a man falls asleep, an arm falls asleep, a man falls… he dreams of a life he isn't living, he dreams of a road he does no walk upon… maybe this time, shapeshifter, be awoken to the truth of who we are. Though it is caused by the whole world's undertaking, the responsibility is ours to do what we’re able... still we do not make that cut...
I'm headin' North, I'm headin' North, I'm headin' North to find the wisdom of my own I’m headin’ North, I'm headin' North, I'm headin' North back to the place that I was born… I'm headin' East to find beginnings of my own… I'm headin' South to find emotions of my own… I'm headin' West to find the endings of my own… I'm headin' below to find the Earth to call my own… I'm headin' above to find the Spirit of my own… I'm headin' Within to find a place that I call home… back to the place that I was born…


Buy the physical album here: aylanereo.com/store

Ayla Nereo’s voice hits straight to the heart. With an array of loop-pedals by her side, she layers vocal melodies into majestic, sweeping harmonies and weaves magical threads of guitar, kalimba, piano, and percussion into each live performance. Her lucid storytelling and lyrical imagery are water for the thirsty soul; sounds embodying the many folds of our own selves. Ayla’s music is both timeless and modern; circle songs and roots music meet folktronica. Crafting an immersive soundscape we can rest in, her gentle intention guides us into a more open and receptive state. Each performance is a journey: an inspired, wondrous experience that holds you by the heart and doesn’t let go.



released May 16, 2012

All songs written, produced, and arranged by Ayla Nereo.
Co-produced and mixed by Davyd Nereo.
Mastered by A. Hammer Mastering.


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Ayla Nereo Nevada City, California

Ayla Nereo is a creature of forests and rivers, a bridger of timeless and modern, a musician and poet weaving a magical and emotional world of sonic beauty. Lyrical meditations and riddles of language dance into tapestries of sound, weaving electronic rhythms with celtic melodies and elvin mantras. With an uncanny ability to crack open the heart, here is an ode to the innate wonder of being human. ... more

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