The discoveries in astronomy and cosmology over the past 100 years or so have given us new metaphors for exploring our own psyches and the world around us, yet we are still, by-centuries-ingrained-habits, prone to talking as if the sun rises and sets, even though we know better. But the traditional way of talking is understandable, as rising and setting describes our direct unaided perception of the sun's behavior. So what are we to do about our post-Copernican knowledge of the solar system, let alone the post-Einstein and post-Hubble ideas and images of the cosmos we are a part of? Well, I don't exactly know, but some years ago, looking through "The Illustrated Atlas of the Universe" by Mark Garlick, I came across the striking statement that "just like living creatures on earth, stars are born, change as they age, and die."
This sparked in me the notion of a broader development of what music can be, as an art form with a history of being associated with the cosmos already, as in "the music of the spheres". I intuited that music could be a possible vehicle for arousing "cosmic emotions" - awe and so forth, and even empathy - for our larger than life celestial friends like the planets, stars, galaxies, Cepheid variables, quasars, and even the whole... resulting over time in more and more relaxing and interesting sets of improvisations.
This particular recorded concert was inspired by the notion of the vast unknown, which can be symbolized by the extraordinary scientific mystery of “Dark Energy” and exemplified in our own lives by the experience of an interplay, in psychological terms, between the various levels of one's personal consciousness with the great and perhaps infinite cosmos in which we reside.