Not Waiting. Already Here.

Lately, I have been immersed in building my bilingual website, “光语行者 · Zephyra.”

At first, I simply wanted to systematically gather and organize the creative work, practice, reflections, and individual works that have grown out of Light Language over the years. But as I went deeper into the website, I increasingly realized that I was also coming to know myself again, while gradually finding a more precise place for my creative work.

I began reading and researching extensively across related fields: non-semantic voice, vocal improvisation, extended voice, experimental opera, sound art, and performance art. I also encountered many pioneers who have spent years working deeply in these fields.

This process did not leave me wondering, “Others have already done this—what is left for me to do?” Quite the opposite. It made me increasingly certain that the path I need to follow is one that is my own.

I do not want to simply carry forward the fixed interpretations that already surround Light Language. I would rather bring it into the context of contemporary art, while remaining faithful to my own embodied experience and to what I genuinely feel in the act of creating.

For me, Light Language is first and foremost sound. When words and rational logic temporarily recede, it arises naturally from the body, breath, emotion, space, and the relationships unfolding in the present moment.

I am also becoming clearer that the direction I truly want to pursue is not to explain Light Language, but to keep singing it, listening to it, going deeper into it, and exploring it. I want to see where Light Language might go when it truly becomes an artistic medium in its own right.

It was also during this period of working on the website that the picture of the future in my mind became increasingly clear.

I imagine a day when a complete improvised Light Language opera finally comes into being. It would no longer be a series of fragments, nor a pre-composed work, but an entire piece created live in the present moment.

I can even imagine the space, imagine myself standing there. Once the sound begins, it carries itself forward, continuing to grow on its own.

I also imagine myself entering an artist residency, living there for a time, singing, listening, recording, and studying the relationship between sound and space; exchanging ideas with researchers, sound artists, dancers, musicians, and people working in technology from different backgrounds; perhaps even co-creating works in completely unfamiliar cultural contexts and spaces—works I cannot yet imagine today.

I often imagine the moments when those exchanges and collaborations truly take place: different people coming together with their own bodies, lived experiences, professional perspectives, and languages, while I take part with my voice.

Whenever I think of these scenes, a strange feeling rises in me. There is joy, of course, but also a quiet sense of urgency, because I have waited for so long.

It has taken fifty years for me to finally see clearly where the energy of my life belongs.

For many years, I have been searching, trying, and experiencing. Only now can I finally say with certainty: this is what I want to devote myself to.

But I suddenly noticed that my present state of mind is not entirely one of anticipation for the future.

It feels more like something difficult to describe—a state in which everything somehow feels as though it has already happened.

These things have clearly not happened yet: the website has not officially launched, the complete Light Language opera has not yet come into being, and I have not yet set out for those artist residencies or created alongside artists from different countries and different fields.

And yet, strangely, when I allow myself to feel all of this, it does not seem far away.

This is not a hope of “maybe one day I can.” Those scenes are already concrete and vivid within me. It is as if I am already standing in that space, hearing the sounds around me, having those conversations, and watching a work slowly take shape from nothing, in the present moment.

I used to call this feeling belief.

But today I suddenly realized that perhaps it goes one step further than belief.

It is not that I believe I will become that person one day. It is that, right now, I am already living as that self.

At that moment, I suddenly understood something:

We often think of creation as moving from having nothing now toward having something in the future.

But what if true creation works in the opposite direction?

It begins in the present.

Then it means first arriving at that state in this very moment, first living into that frequency, and allowing that state of being to become real within.

Only then does the outer world begin to grow, little by little.

Whether it will unfold exactly as I imagine it now, I do not know, and I do not need to know. The future still holds countless possibilities.

But one thing is becoming increasingly clear to me:

I am no longer standing at a distance, waiting for that life.

I am already inside it.