The sea remembers what we forget. While the tides rise, an ancient ledger calls the soul to account.
Arriving May 9, 2026.
🌊🎠✨
In a town built on industry and silence, a fisherman in exile from memory must face a goddess of the tides, a misplaced selkie, and a sharp-tongued banshee. This mythic musical libretto is a space where satire collides with sincerity—a journey to discover if healing the self can truly help heal the sea.
In a world where the tide remembers every debt, Fionn—a man hardened by unspoken grief—must face the sea goddess, Muirgen. This is not merely a tale of man versus nature, but of a soul navigating the "Carousel of what I hid inside." As the waters rise, the ancient ledgers open, demanding a final choice: remain trapped in the cycle, or find the courage to return what was never truly yours.
Muirgen’s Carousel was born from a need to listen to the things we usually work so hard to ignore. As a storyteller, I have always been fascinated by the "inner alchemy" required to face our own shadows. This libretto is more than a script; it is a rhythmic inquiry into the debts we owe to ourselves and the natural world.
This work is a "living map." It is for the ones who listen. It is for those who understand that when we become whole, the world becomes possible.
Dramatis Personae
MUIRGEN: The Sea personified. An ancient, elemental force who serves as both a fierce judge and a mirror of compassion.
FIONN: A fisherman whose "strength" is a fortress built of silence. He carries the weight of a drowned past and a town’s collective denial.
LÍ BAN: The Child of the Sea. Trapped in a stolen cloak, she represents the stolen autonomy of the natural world.
THE BANSHEE: A spectral truth-teller with a razor-sharp wit. She punctures Fionn’s denial with humor and inconvenient truths.
THE MINISTER OF FLOW: A polished architect of industry. He represents the "Net of Oppression," treating ecological crisis as a rebranding opportunity.
The Audio Experience
Step into the scenes of the libretto. Close your eyes and listen to the heartbeat of the tides.
"The Ocean Remembers"
Prelude
"What's One More Drop?"
Act 1, Scene 1
"The Net is Empty"
Act 1, Scene 2
"Sea You Later (Sailor Brave)"
Act 1, Scene 3
"Forms in Triplicate"
Act 1, Scene 4
"Progress Afloat"
Act 1, Scene 5
"Muirgen's Omen"
Act 1, Scene 6
“Why I Don’t Swim”
Act 1, Scene 7
"Pints and Plastic"
Act 1, Scene 8
"Oh Shite It's Real"
Act 1, Scene 8
"The Storm Remembers"
Act 1, Scene 9
"Balance the Books"
Act 1, Scene 10
“What Floats?”
Act 2, Scene 1
“I Promise / You Wail”
Act 2, Scene 2
"Guilt by the Gallon"
Act 2, Scene 3
"Guilt by the Gallon (Reprise)"
Act 2, Scene 4
"The Heart of the Sea"
Act II, Scene 5.
"The Clerk's Fear"
Act 2, Scene 6.
"A Quiet Harbor"
Act 2, Scene 7
"Sea You Later (Reprise)"
Act 2, Scene 8
"The Unsettled Tab"
Act 2, Scene 9
"What Remains
When We Stop Blaming"
Act 2. Scene 9. Part 2
"Storm of Mercy"
Act 2, Scene 10
"The Ocean Remembers (Reprise)"
Act 2, Scene 11
Coda: "Oh, Shite. Be Real (Reprise)"
Act 2, Scene 12
Finale
Act 2
Born of Thread and Netting
Before a single line of the script was written, the story lived in a physical object: a handmade hooded jacket crafted from sustainable, hand-knit netting.
The heart of the cloak is found in its embroidered story: two twin fish caught in a fisherman’s net while their marine friends bite at the threads to free them. In the world of the story, these fish are the silent witnesses to our history. One represents Trauma—the heavy weight of what we have endured; the other represents the Trapped Spirit—the part of ourselves (and our world) that has been denied its voice.
This 'story on cloth' became the play's central symbolic object, grounding an abstract ecological message in a tangible, artisanal truth. Just as the sea cannot heal until the cloak is returned, our own inner landscape cannot find peace until we give back autonomy to the natural world. Healing is not an act of taking, but an act of restoration.
The physical libretto is set in Sabon, a typeface chosen for its clarity and literary tradition.
From the Net of Oppression to the Net of Light
The transition of the story is mirrored in the transformation of its central symbol:
The Net of Oppression: Represents humanity’s control over nature and the weight of collective guilt.
The Net of Light: A vessel of forgiveness. It is a net that no longer catches, but glows with grace and renewed potential. Healing begins the moment we stop trying to 'catch' the world and start trying to restore its autonomy."
Muirgen's Carousel: The Hope of Return will be available at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and other fine bookstores on May 9, 2025.
The Deep Ledger: Research & Inspiration.
The Musical DNA
Gordon MacRae, "Carousel": For the robust, masculine vulnerability that mirrors Fionn’s internal struggle.
"Heather on the Hill," Brigadoon: For the mist-covered, mythic atmosphere of a place caught between worlds.
"Carousel," Laufey: For the modern, cyclical rhythm of a heart spinning in place.
The Stark Reality
Ocean (2025) & Seaspiracy (2021): The visceral documentation of our oceans that provided the necessary foundation for the "Net of Oppression" and the crisis of the tides.
Early thoughts...
10 November, 2025
Rodgers & Hammerstein never flinched from pain; they let melody walk straight into it—and somehow, love survived the storm.
Listening today, I hear the echo of a fisherman named Fionn Murchadh. And it feels as urgent as ever. He doesn’t strike people, not like Billy Bigelow in "Carousel". He battles... no, he hurts... the sea. But the struggle is the same: to learn tenderness before the tide takes everything.
(Core, deeper theme: If we heal the sea, we heal the man—without destroying his masculinity. He keeps both anima and animus, and becomes whole.)
14 November, 2025
Why 6/8 Time Feels Like Coming Home. Lately I’ve been thinking about rhythm — not the kind a metronome counts, but the kind your body remembers before your mind does. Most of us live in 4/4.
We walk in it, breathe in it, schedule our days by it. But 6/8 is something else entirely.
6/8 doesn’t march. It moves. It sways like memory, rocks like a tide, and carries a quiet ache that feels oddly like truth. It’s the rhythm behind songs like Hallelujah and Norwegian Wood — pieces that feel both intimate and ancient, like they were written somewhere between the heart and the horizon.
Artists choose 6/8 when they’re trying to hold two emotions at once. Yearning and acceptance. Sorrow and beauty, Departure and return. It’s the musical equivalent of a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
I realized recently that I naturally dance in 6/8 — a kind of double waltz my feet fall into without trying. It’s not choreography. It’s a remembering. A feeling of moving in my true language.
Maybe that’s what art is. A way of rediscovering the rhythm we’re originally from. A rhythm that keeps showing us the way home.
Eight minutes of soul laid bare.
Gordon MacRae’s Soliloquy from Carousel—a man dreaming aloud of who he might become, until life’s weight interrupts the music.
Heather on the Hill (returning to the Isle of Sky)e in 6/8 time
"Brigadoon"
"Carousel" by Laufey. Inspirations.