BYRDS - About the Album

About BYRDS

In the in-between skin.
I don’t wait until the molt was over to show myself.

‍ ‍ this counts too.

This album is a collection of whispers. Listening for movement. Small arrivals. Subtle shifts in my body. The kind of information that quietly taps my shoulder.

Each song arrived as a bird — not as a metaphor I planned, but as a function. Something the body learns to do when it’s paying attention.

Crow watches.
Molt releases.
Owl times.
Heron strikes.
Blue Jay speaks.
Seagull eats.
Mockingbird listens.
Red Robin hopes.
Flamingo plays.
Goldfinch glows.
Vulture clears.
Hummingbird receives.

I wrote it while unpacking myself. These songs came out of paying attention to how regulation, expression, pleasure, and completion actually move through my body when it feels safe enough to listen. This album is me following whispers.

You’ll hear influences threaded throughout. I’ve been shaped by teachers like Abraham Hicks, Louise Hay, and Aleister Crowley, among others. Their voices live here as undercurrents. Some lyrics are even quotations from the Book of the Law. This is my lived understanding so far, written down like a journal someone else is allowed to read.

I’m not a teacher. I’m a peer. I’m sharing what I hear in case it resonates.

Why BYRDS (with a Y)

The spelling is intentional.

BYRDS uses the letter Y as a direct reference to Yod (י) from the Hebrew alphabet. This is a structural choice rooted in study and practice.

Yod is the smallest Hebrew letter. It’s a point, a spark, a seed. In many esoteric systems, Yod represents pure beginning — attention before form, awareness before structure. It doesn’t connect things. It initiates them.

That matters because BYRDS functions as presence.

This album lives in noticing, arrival, alertness, curiosity. Each song feels like a small point of awareness landing somewhere new — branch to branch, moment to moment, the songs even move through emotions.
BYRDS isn’t one continuous ritual thread. It’s many sparks, many starts, many arrivals.

My understanding of Yod comes largely from studying the Hebrew alphabet through Aleister Crowley’s 777 and later through Lon Milo DuQuette’s The Chicken Qabalah.

777 is essentially a correspondences map — a dense reference text that links Hebrew letters, tarot, astrology, planets, numbers, and symbols into a single symbolic language. I learned to see letters there not as sounds, but as operators: living units of function.

The Chicken Qabalah came later and changed everything for me. Lon Milo DuQuette translated those same ideas into plain language, humor, and lived humanity. It helped me understand that this work isn’t about being obscure or elite — it’s about attention, curiosity, and personal relationship with symbols.

Together, those books shaped how I think about letters as forces.

In other song and albums, I’ve intentionally used V as a reference to Vav (ו).

Vav is the connecting letter. In Hebrew it means hook or nail, and it often functions as the word and. Its job is to join things together — idea with action, inner with outer, intention with lived form.

In many Western esoteric systems, Vav carries the current of embodiment. It moves awareness through the heart of a system, creating balance and coherence. This linking function explains why Vav often gets described through symbolic language like incarnate or Christ consciousness — the place where spirit actually lives through the body and the world.

That energy fits work that carries weight: ritual, structure, ceremony, and integration. I’ve used Vav deliberately in projects designed to bind meaning into form and hold it there.

BYRDS is pre‑structure. Lighter. Mobile. Curious. Awareness hops before anything gets nailed down. This phase lets sparks move freely before they organize again.

Choosing Yod over Vav here matched the state of the work.

Less nail.
More spark.

The arc underneath

If there’s a quiet arc running through this album, it’s this:

from explaining → witnessing
from structure → sensation
from proving → playing

Crow opens the album as a watcher.
Hummingbird closes with reciprocity.

What begins as observation ends as exchange.

BYRDS doesn’t ask you to believe anything. It only asks you to listen — to your body, your timing, your appetite, your joy, your endings.

If a song lands, stay with it.
If it doesn’t, let it fly past.

These are just birds.
They know where to land.

The BYRDS stay close, keeping watch over you.