It sounds smooth and emotional it really gives that feeling of distant connection.

Hampshire Alum and Biologist Phyllis D. Coley 70F Celebrated By The Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute.  Lissy Coley was one of the first Hampshire college students. She tells an interesting story about her time there, inspired, I wrote a song I call "I Would Know"


Verse 1
Way down south where the green vines climb,
Phyllis walked slow, takin' her time,
Notebook out and the sun runnin' low,
Chasin' the secrets the forests know.
From Amherst fields to Panama's heat,
She found where the wild hearts beat,
Every leaf and shadow below-
She'd smile and say, I would know.

Chorus
I would know-oh, I would know,
How the jungle hums where the rivers go.
From Hampshire roots to the tropic flow,
Ask the forest, ask the wind-
I would know.

Verse 2
First of her class when the College was new,
Dreams so big they almost flew,
Studied the teeth on the smallest bite,
Watched how the sunlight turns to night.
Each tree spoke in a language rare,
She learned to listen, she learned to care,
Years went by and her stories grow,
And she still says, I would know.

Chorus
I would know-oh, I would know,
How the jungle hums where the rivers go.
From Hampshire roots to the tropic flow,
Ask the forest, ask the wind-
I would know.

Bridge
Smithsonian honors her steady hand,
Mapping the life in a distant land,
Science and wonder in one true soul,
She's still out there takin' roll.

Verse 3
Every morning she greets the sky,
Names the birds as they driftin' by,
Tells the story the green leaves show,
Whispers low, I would know.

Final Chorus
I would know-oh, I would know,
How the jungle hums where the rivers go.
From Hampshire hills to the tropic glow,
Ask the forest, ask the wind-
I would know.



BUY ON BANDCAMP!

I Would Know

Firefighters battle massive fire at Amherst apartment complex. According to a news release from Amherst Fire Chief Lindsay Stromgren, the fire was originally reported by 911 callers at 8:19 p.m. on Friday. Units arriving in the area discovered that a four-story building, which was under construction, was fully engulfed in flames, with fire spreading to nearby buildings. 


(Verse 1)
Night broke open on Kellogg Street,
Sirens cut through the autumn heat,
Wood frame rising, dreams half-made,
Now swallowed whole by the fire brigade.
Students watching with faces pale,
Ash like snow on the evening gale,
The lights of Amherst painted red,
Over the place where builders tread.
(Chorus)
Three-alarm fire, hearts in the smoke,
Hope turns to embers, faith to oak,
We stand in the glow where the rafters fall,
Three-alarm fire, it burned through all.
(Verse 2)
Windows cracking, beams collapse,
Engines roar through smoky gaps,
Ladders climbing, hoses scream,
Fighting the ghost of a vanished dream.
Chief calls orders through static haze,
Men and women move through the blaze,
Neighbors praying the flames will die,
While sparks write stories across the sky.
(Chorus)
Three-alarm fire, hearts in the smoke,
Hope turns to embers, faith to oak,
We stand in the glow where the rafters fall,
Three-alarm fire, it burned through all.
(Bridge)
By morning's light the cinders cool,
The air still thick, the silence cruel,
They'll build again, they always do,
From ashes rise a brighter view.
(Chorus - final)
Three-alarm fire, hearts in the smoke,
Hope turns to embers, faith to oak,
We stand in the glow where the rafters fall,
Three-alarm fire, we rise through it all.

Three Alarm Fire

What does it mean to be conscious, and why does it feel like something to be you? Neuroscientist Anil Seth argues that consciousness isn’t a mysterious spark but a deeply biological process, one that depends on prediction, perception, and the body’s constant negotiation with the world.  


Verse 1
Eighty-six billion sparks in the dark,
Firing like stars in a private arc.
No ghost in the wire, no heaven in sight,
Just patterns awakening into light.
Red's not out there, pain's not a place,
They're signals the mind learns to embrace.
A bat in the night, a bee in the sun,
Each world a wager, each self begun.

Pre-Chorus
No table feels the weight of the cup,
No river knows the name of its rush.
But deep in the hum, awareness appears-
The echo that says, I am here.

Chorus
There's something it is like to be you,
A private cinema, a singular view.
Not magic, not myth, not divine decree-
Just the body predicting what the world will be.
Perception, memory, pulse, and tone-
Consciousness blooms where the code is grown.
The feel of the hand, the taste of rain,
The story restarting again and again.

Verse 2
fMRI paints the storm in the head,
EEG dances electric thread.
When anesthesia fades to gray,
The pattern reforms, the light finds its way.
Level, content, self-woven design,
No ego required to say this is mine.
Even the starlings that turn in the air,
Move with a rhythm that mirrors us there.

Pre-Chorus
We trace the footprints, chase the sign,
But the map can't mirror the mind's design.
Simulation's not rain, computation's not pain-
Life is the spark that outlasts the chain.

Chorus
There's something it is like to be you,
A field of signals, endlessly new.
Not silicon dreams, not programed desire-
But cells that repair, that kindle the fire.
It's the pulse in the wrist, the breath in the lung,
The oldest song the body's sung.

Bridge
Panpsychic whispers: It's everywhere,
But theory alone won't get us there.
Emergence isn't wish, isn't spell-
It's neurons aligning, it's systems that tell.
Free will's not dice, not ghostly command,
It's cause and feedback held in the hand.
We act, we learn, we revise, we choose-
That's freedom enough for what we use.

Final Chorus
There's something it is like to be you,
Fragile, electric, and fiercely true.
No god in the gears, no soul in the code-
Just the body negotiating its load.
Prediction, perception, flesh, and tone-
Consciousness blooms where the seeds are sown.
It's the feel of the hand, the taste of rain,
The story continuing, again and again.

Outro
When the lights go out, when the screen goes black,
The pattern dissolves, then the body comes back.
Something it was like...
Something it was like...
To be you.

To Be You

A study by researchers at Queen Mary University of London and University College London has found that humans have a form of remote touch, or the ability to sense objects without direct contact, a sense that some animals have. 


Verse 1
There's a whisper in the air between our hands,
A current we don't see, but understand.
No wind, no wire, no breath of skin,
Yet something hums where we begin.
The space between us isn't still,
It bends and shivers at our will.
A secret sense we never named,
Now science shows it all the same.

Chorus
Remote touch, the unseen glow,
Feeling things we'll never know.
Beyond the nerves, beyond the bone,
The body reaching all alone.
Remote touch, a quiet sign,
That life extends beyond the line.
A field of knowing, soft and near,
We touch the world through what we hear.

Verse 2
In labs of London's patient halls,
They mapped the space that softly calls.
The air itself became a hand,
The mind could feel without command.
From fingertips to heart's reply,
We're woven threads beneath the sky.
No distance truly stands apart,
When motion moves the human heart.

Chorus
Remote touch, the unseen glow,
Feeling things we'll never know.
Beyond the nerves, beyond the bone,
The body reaching all alone.
Remote touch, a quiet sign,
That life extends beyond the line.
A field of knowing, soft and near,
We touch the world through what we hear.

Bridge
Between the thought and the unseen air,
There's proof that presence lingers there.
A shimmer born of pulse and trust,
The hidden bond of sense and dust.

Final Chorus
Remote touch, the unseen glow,
Feeling things we'll never know.
Between the spaces, we are one,
Our senses stretched from sun to sun.
Remote touch, the pulse we share,
The body's ghost, the spirit's prayer.
A light that moves from me to you-
Remote touch, the oldest truth.

Remote Touch

Today I was thinking of the time I was booking bands at the Iron Horse in Northampton.  In 1994, I booked a band from Scotland called the Old Blind Dogs.  My band Woodkerne opened for them.  Their music still rings in my mind.  Here's a song that reminds me of them.
#OldBlindDogs #Woodkerne #IronHorse


Verse 1
When I was a-walking by the banks of the Ugee,
Come my dear friends and a story I'll relate,
I spied a dear comrade all dressed in white flannel,
Dressed in white flannel and cruel was his fate.

Chorus
Had he been a soldier, had he been a sailor,
Had he been a hero in battle array,
But he was a poor man, a poor man of sorrow,
And the white flannel shroud was the end of his day.

Verse 2
The cold wind was blowing, the river was rising,
The moon on the water threw silver and grey,
I knelt by his body and whispered a prayer,
For the soul of my comrade who'd drifted away.

Chorus
Had he been a soldier…

Verse 3
Now the Ugee keeps rolling, the years keep on turning,
But the notes of his fiddle still ring in my ear,
In the green room at Iron Horse, the laughter, the music,
Old Blind Dogs and Woodkerne - the night crystal clear.

Final Chorus
We were never soldiers, we were never sailors,
But we carried the songs through the cold and the rain,
And the white flannel memory still walks by the Ugee,
Till we meet on the banks of the river again.

Banks of the Ugee

Granby Preservation Society presents a Festival of Trees & Baskets 

November 29th and 30th, 2025 - Adam Sweet and Students from Granby Music will be performing Christmas Carols starting at 2pm

December 6th and 7th, 2025

11am - 6pm

250 State St Granby, MA

fundraising@granbypreservationsociety.org

413-218-1801

413-255-0712

All proceeds to benefit Kellogg Hall

Christmas at Kellogg Hall

Neolithic Chinese culture artifacts show systematic human bone modification. worked human bones are the result of an intricate relationship between the worker and the worked, associated with kinship and conflict.

Verse 1

By the wide Yangzi, where the waters bend,

Shadows of ancestors rise and descend,

Carved in the silence, marrow of stone,

Hands of the living shape the bones.



Refrain

Yangzi River bones, drifting with the tide,

Stories of the bloodline time cannot hide.



Verse 2

Echo of battles, kinship in flame,

Names forgotten, yet memory remains,

Honored in fragments, worked by hand,

Binding the people to the land.



Refrain

Yangzi River bones, drifting with the tide,

Stories of the bloodline time cannot hide.



Bridge

Not just remains but voices that sing,

Whispers of sorrow, of war and of kin,

From conflict's ashes the spirit grows,

The river remembers, the river knows.



Final Refrain

Yangzi River bones, carried on the tide,

Kinship and conflict forever allied.



Outro

By the wide Yangzi, the silence moans,

Forever we carry the Yangzi River bones.

Yangzi River Bones

Recorded with the Qin Silk Consort, “Tahng Child” reflects on the discovery that changed how the world understood its own beginnings. The song follows the moment a small fossilized face emerged from the earth in South Africa, inviting scholars to rethink long-held assumptions and look with clearer eyes. It carries a quiet, steady warmth, shaped by string textures and an understated melodic line, honoring the way a single finding can shift an entire discipline. Gentle, reflective, and grounded in the spirit of honest inquiry, this track leans into stillness and wonder as it traces the legacy of the Tahng Child and the light it continues to cast on our shared story. 

the Taung Child shook up the scientific world Almost 100 years before calls to decolonize science, Taung was challenging researchers to reassess their internal biases. 


Verse 1
Long ago in a southern valley,
Hands uncovered a quiet face in stone.
Small as dawn and light as memory,
Carried forward from a world long gone.
Scholars paused and the story shifted,
Old ideas felt the edges move.

Chorus
Taung Child, rising from the earth,
Whispering truths we had yet to hear.
Teaching us how the past can open
When we learn to see with eyes unclouded.
Taung Child, still speaking clear.

Verse 2
Maps were drawn with a heavy leaning,
Lines decided long before the proof.
But the dust of ages held another meaning,
As the shape of history found its truth.
Quiet bones set the mind to wonder,
Where the path of humankind began.

Chorus
Taung Child, rising from the earth,
Whispering truths we had yet to hear.
Teaching us how the past can open
When we learn to see with eyes unclouded.
Taung Child, still speaking clear.

Bridge
Sometimes change begins in silence,
A single voice from long ago.
Asking us to let go lightly,
And follow where the evidence goes.

Final Chorus
Taung Child, rising from the earth,
Calling us back to what is real.
Showing the strength of honest learning,
When the heart is steady and the mind is still.
Taung Child, still speaking clear.

Taung Child

A new track from Qin Silk Consort, released through Sweet Songs. “Taung Child” reflects on the small discovery that reshaped how we understand our beginnings, told with a gentle, thoughtful touch.
 #SweetSongs #QinSilkConsort #TaungChild
 


Recorded with the Qin Silk Consort, “Tahng Child” reflects on the discovery that changed how the world understood its own beginnings. The song follows the moment a small fossilized face emerged from the earth in South Africa, inviting scholars to rethink long-held assumptions and look with clearer eyes. It carries a quiet, steady warmth, shaped by string textures and an understated melodic line, honoring the way a single finding can shift an entire discipline. Gentle, reflective, and grounded in the spirit of honest inquiry, this track leans into stillness and wonder as it traces the legacy of the Tahng Child and the light it continues to cast on our shared story. 

the Taung Child shook up the scientific world Almost 100 years before calls to decolonize science, Taung was challenging researchers to reassess their internal biases. 


Verse 1
Long ago in a southern valley,
Hands uncovered a quiet face in stone.
Small as dawn and light as memory,
Carried forward from a world long gone.
Scholars paused and the story shifted,
Old ideas felt the edges move.

Chorus
Taung Child, rising from the earth,
Whispering truths we had yet to hear.
Teaching us how the past can open
When we learn to see with eyes unclouded.
Taung Child, still speaking clear.

Verse 2
Maps were drawn with a heavy leaning,
Lines decided long before the proof.
But the dust of ages held another meaning,
As the shape of history found its truth.
Quiet bones set the mind to wonder,
Where the path of humankind began.

Chorus
Taung Child, rising from the earth,
Whispering truths we had yet to hear.
Teaching us how the past can open
When we learn to see with eyes unclouded.
Taung Child, still speaking clear.

Bridge
Sometimes change begins in silence,
A single voice from long ago.
Asking us to let go lightly,
And follow where the evidence goes.

Final Chorus
Taung Child, rising from the earth,
Calling us back to what is real.
Showing the strength of honest learning,
When the heart is steady and the mind is still.
Taung Child, still speaking clear.


Sunken Silk Road city found as archaeologists discover ‘Atlantis’ in one of oldest lakes.  New findings confirm an ancient city, bustling with trade for over 1,500 years, was destroyed by a catastrophic quake. 
#QinSilkConsort #SweetSongs #SunkenSilkCity
 

Verse 1
By the edge of the oldest lake they wandered,
Traders once carried their silver and tea.
Caravans followed a path through the mountains,
Guided by lanterns that glowed in the breeze.
Stone walls held stories of many nations,
Voices that mingled in market and hall.

Chorus
Now the deep water keeps their footsteps,
Holding the rise and fall of the past.
Where boats once drifted on quiet mornings,
Columns rest peaceful beneath the glass.
The city sleeps in the lake's cool shadow,
Waiting in silence for daylight's track.

Verse 2
One night the ground shivered under the heavens,
Rumbled through valleys and ridges so wide.
Street after street gave way to the tremor,
Homes slipped slowly into the tide.
Yet those old patterns of woven culture
Still seem to shimmer where sunlight bends.

Chorus
Now the deep water keeps their footsteps,
Holding the rise and fall of the past.
Where boats once drifted on quiet mornings,
Columns rest peaceful beneath the glass.
The city sleeps in the lake's cool shadow,
Waiting in silence for daylight's track.

Bridge
If you lean close by the quiet shoreline,
Sometimes a ripple will shape a sound.
A hint of a song from long forgotten,
Echoing softly from where they drowned.

Final Chorus
Now the deep water keeps their footsteps,
Holding the rise and fall of the past.
Where boats once drifted on quiet mornings,
Columns rest peaceful beneath the glass.
The city sleeps in the lake's cool shadow,
Waiting in silence for daylight's track.

Sunken Silk City

Blair Mountain

I play and teach mandolin and violin out of my home and online.  I founded Sweet Songs Records and the Granby Music Academy.  Founder of Cybernetic Fusion™

Remote Touch

Original, community-rooted independent music

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Rhonda Fleener

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