Many of the people from the sixties such as yourself have turned towards a more spiritual approach to life in the nineties. Why do you feel people have made this transition?
Donovan: The long path travelers are rediscovering what they believed in and the path they were on previously. These themes are becoming prevalent again as broadcast shows all over the Western world are discussing ideas like spirituality and social change, which were things we all discovered when we were young. The long path traveler is interested because she or he was interested once before, and my music reminds them of where they have been and where they want to be once again.
So people are returning to something within themselves?
Donovan: Yes, it's called "return" in the I-Ching. There are also the young people, who can quite literally be our children, an example being Hayley Mills' son, Crispian Mills, from the band Kula
Shaker. He went to India with his bass player where they played music and studied a little Indian philosophy. When they came back, they used these themes to make a record that went to Number One. So their interest in a spiritual path is natural because their parents were interested. The young people who are influenced by sixties music are also influenced by sixties themes. Our children are into what we are into, whereas in my generation, we weren't so much interested in the same things as our parents. On a spiritual level, the reason so many people are interested in the spiritual path is to balance the scales as the millennium comes to a close. People want to look into the future, and see a balance between material and spiritual. The balance has nothing to do with humans, but with the great cosmic theme. We're still just entering the age of Aquarius, the symbol of the wave, which means Aquarian ideas like communication and a world view, are becoming more present as well.
In the sixties some people spoke of a soft revolution, where the ideas and people of the sixties would gradually infiltrate and change the fabric of society from within. Has this happened and is the movement towards spirituality a by-product of this infiltration of sixties ideas?
Donovan: I am reminded of the Peter Sellers' character, the gardener "Chancie," from the movie "Being There." Seeds that are planted have to sprout. If they are nurtured, they will come to fruition. You can apply that to anything. There is a tendency to think the seventies and eighties proved the love and peace generation failed, when in actual fact, the ideas are resurfacing right now. Cycles of growth are like a river running out of the mountains and into the desert. At one point the river looks like it disappears, but actually it goes underground before resurfacing somewhere later on. The ideas from the sixties are resurfacing in the nineties. The establishment and people in power are now my age, and the spiritual path of the sixties has evolved into the current health fad, where people want to feel and look better. Wanting to feel better means using discipline, and in using discipline, you begin doing things like Yoga, and in doing Yoga, you try meditation. These things follow because they are related, and can be viewed as an evolution of well-being. What sells will be promoted, and if it's spirituality and well-being, then this is what will be emphasized. The idea of the sixties being a load of hippies with painted bodies screwing in the mud at Woodstock, is definitely not the total picture. The new age is described as being an enormously successful market which nobody can put their finger on.
The songs on your most recent album, "Sutras," reflect your personal evolution, both spiritually and as an artist. Could you describe a little of your personal evolution?
Donovan: When I was growing up, my father gave me a good grounding in socialism, and at the same time read me poems written by visionaries as well as ramblers. The ramblers included Robert Service and W. H. Davis, who were essentially poets with a guitar or bag over their shoulder, traveling the wilds of America on trains at the turn of the century. When I heard my father reading these poems, I was filled with a longing for wandering. He also read me poems of visionaries. The first spiritual experiences I heard of were from poets like Robert Burns, John Keats and William Shakespeare. While in college, I first heard the songs of Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, which fit with my grounding in socialism, and I knew the world was ready for change, I wanted to be part of that change. My generation was born during or just after the Second World War, where two nuclear bombs were dropped on Japan, leaving us with a longing to balance out the extreme materialism and worldwide nuclear death. I was part of a generation looking for a change, chanting slogans like "no more war" and "ban the bomb." All of my radical friends at school marched, and I marched with them to ban the bomb in the early sixties.
When did you discover Eastern philosophy?
Donovan: My personal evolution particularly changed when I came across the word, "Zen." I immediately asked, "What is this?" because it touched something within me. That realization led me to discover Alan Watts and "The Way of Zen," and Lao Tzu's "Tao T-Ching." Suddenly I was reading everything I could lay my hands on about Zen, Buddhism and Taoism, and in my mind, the radical sounds and plans of my fellow comrades in the revolution against the establishment started sounding futile. It became clear to me that by changing the government, you were only changing the rider of the same wild horse. Afterwards I began reading William Butler Yeats and Celtic Mythology, and innately I felt something was behind this mythology, leading me further on my spiritual quest. No more could I stand up without knowing the fundamental problem for all human suffering was a spiritual problem, and from then on, I started writing songs to fill my obsession with placing these mystic ideas into pop culture. The spiritual songs on "Sutras," like "The Way and "Universe Am I," are a continuation and evolution of the songs, like "Where Your Love Like Heaven" and "Hurdy Gurdy Man," that I was writing in the sixties.
When you became a vegetarian, it was quite a contrast to your upbringing which you described previously as mostly "fish, meat, and potatoes." Could you describe this transition within yourself?
Donovan: Becoming a vegetarian for me was an artistic decision at first. I had heard of macrobiotic diets from my readings of Zen Buddhism and my interest in Japan. The idea of brown rice and the simplicity of the Japanese concept of a well-designed meal intrigued me. At first, it was a visual thing. Then when I tried it, I found it to be extraordinarily different. That was great when I was young because being a vegetarian was fashionably different, and at the time I wanted to be different. Besides I like the taste of tamari with brown rice and vegetables, and the whole idea appeals to me. The idea of preserving life and not eating animals was part of it, but mostly my choice was one of well-being and health.
Singer/songwriter Rosanne Cash has said creativity if it's not allowed to express itself, turns to a toxin within the system. As a creative person, what are your thoughts on this?
Donovan: I don't have a problem with songwriting creativity because once I pick up the guitar, it comes out and expresses itself. Performing creativity, on the other hand, does get dammed up in me, and instead of being joyous and expressive, creativity becomes blocked, and energetically turns into its opposite. In the late seventies and eighties, I couldn't connect composition, performance, and improvisation. For me, when these elements are not connected, part of my creative life is missing. I like to improvise in my concerts, especially in the emotions, and the way I move the songs. I move the songs in magical ways, and focus on the imperishable void that we all are. Sometimes it's hard because an audience isn't feeling right, but there will always be one part in the concert where there will be a breakthrough, and the rest of the concert will be free and open because I've finally contacted the spirit in us all. When I don't contact that spirit, the feeling I get is a blockage and a toxic situation emotionally. In terms of the whole, what art is and what I do when performing, is to speak symbolically to our archetypes and bring through emotions that are blocked.
Then performing is a major part of your creative process?
Donovan: Yes, my father said, "You're a great songwriter son." Then he said, "And you're pretty good at making records, but your real talent is performing." Even when I was making records in the sixties, we would record three songs in three hours, which is almost playing live. Even on my new album "Sutras," producer Rick Rubin's concept was to capture the feeling and energy of my live performances.
Would you describe the feeling you get after a performance with a receptive audience?
Donovan: When all the elements come together, you have a virtuoso performance. At a certain point, I forget I am playing because I don't have to think about it. When that happens, the artist is part of the performance, and it has a life of its own. I follow the song as well because at this point I am not leading.
At this point, does performing become a spiritual experience for you?
Donovan: That's what the priests of all of the ancient pagan societies spoke about. We are not the ceremony and the ritual once it is happening. The Gods and the Goddesses then take over, and we are the participants. We are praising them, and they are teaching us. It's an extraordinary feeling and hard to articulate.
Do you do anything in particular before a performance? Are there techniques you use to get your creative juices flowing?
Donovan: Mainly I mediate so the human can get out of the way a little bit. At the same time you have to be there, go on stage, and do the business. I do visualization and prepare myself mentally. Everything matters because you are preparing to step over the line. In theater, actors call it the fourth wall. The fourth wall is the invisible wall between the performer and the audience. The other three walls are the sides and back of the stage. The fourth wall is the wall of belief the audience gives to a performance, where they know it's a performance, but they forget that, and believe there is no fourth wall. The artist must always be conscious of that wall, and it's wonderful when it breaks down. It makes the performance very real, more real than getting back into a car, bus or train and going home. That's why people love the performing arts because they are a deep reality we touch. Tragedy is the most moving form, which is why deep melancholy music moves people and can be healing.
Do you feel that is why some people listen to sad music to make themselves feel better?
Donovan: Yes, it's a catharsis. Tragedy arouses pity, but the real loss on stage or in a song, arouses hope as well as pity. You pity another when you see tragic death, but when you see someone surviving a tragic emotion, it arouses hope. The arts address the idea that life does go on. I read in Robert Graves' "White Goddess," that the origin of song, what the verse and the chorus meant, was the singer singing the verse, which stated the theme and celebrated the act while the tribe all danced. The chorus of the song is the tribe turning at the edge of the fire or space where they are dancing. When you project that to Greek or Egyptian theater, they would have areas for the dance, and the people would actually dance to the songs, and not just sit in their seats and listen. So the verse was sung and the chorus was sung by the people. In African tribal dance, it is the same. The turn is actually why the chorus of the song was invented. That's also why people sing along in the chorus.
There is also the concept of question and answer where the performer calls the question and the people answer in the chorus.
Donovan: That entered the blues and the work songs of America. They also have work songs in the fishing villages of Ireland and Scotland. They call and answer. Participation is important. Creativity is not just within the performer. In Ireland, they put a violin into every child's hands from the age of three. Violins are for sale in every music shop. There are three sizes; baby, middle, and full size. If your child shows any talent, you buy the next size. The Irish are always looking for that reincarnated musician. It means every child gets a chance to be creative and that is important. You can express yourself with art, painting, music, and dance in ways Rudolph Steiner calls "the spiritual exercises of the arts." Mass education is only a hundred years old, and true education is still in the future.