"Daily Rebirth (Ohh Lord)

“Death. The only inevitable truth that we know.”

That line showed up in one of my journals sometime around December of 2015. At the time, I had been spending my days exposing myself to as many spiritual traditions and schools of thought as possible while trying to understand the deeper nature of life, consciousness, and the human experience itself. One thing kept standing out to me:

Most ancient traditions seemed to approach death with reverence, while modern culture mostly treated it with fear.

The more I reflected on mortality, the more I started wondering why we spend so much of our lives pretending that death is not happening to all of us in real time. It felt backwards. If life is temporary, shouldn’t that make it more precious? More alive? More worthy of attention?

I became fascinated by the possibility that life and death were not opposites at all, but part of the same continuous movement.

Around that same period, I had become deeply immersed in Hindu philosophy and devotional Music. Through that process, I found myself reconnecting with the work of George Harrison. His song “My Sweet Lord” had always resonated with me, even long before I considered myself spiritual in any way.

I remember hearing an interview where George explained that he wanted to create a song that could welcome people from many different belief systems while still remaining devotional at its core. He also spoke openly about the impact that mantra and the Hare Krishna tradition had on his life and Music.

That idea stayed with me.

One evening, while sitting alone in my office reflecting on death and the strange beauty of impermanence, something shifted. The room became incredibly still. Charged somehow. I picked up the guitar and the song began arriving almost immediately.

Alongside the guitar came a Hindi choir melody and the first lines of the song:

“When you decide it’s my last day,

take me home Ohh Lord.

Amidst the very last breath I make,

take me home Ohh Lord.”

As the song unfolded, the presence of George Harrison became incredibly clear to me. It did not feel symbolic or metaphorical. It felt as though he had stepped directly into the room for a brief Musical collaboration.

I can still hear his voice clearly:

“Death and Life are the same, William.”

The experience was calm, direct, and strangely natural. The song continued unfolding over the next several days as though it already existed somewhere and I was simply catching up to it.

Once the arrangement was complete, I sat down to play it all the way through for the first time.

About halfway through the song, my body reacted intensely. My stomach tightened. I started sweating profusely. By the final chorus, I felt so overwhelmed by the presence of Death that I genuinely accepted the possibility that I might actually die right there in my chair.

Luckily, when the song ended, I was still alive.

What stayed with me most afterward was the choir melody. I could hear it clearly in my head, but I didn’t yet know the words. I became mildly obsessed with finding the mantra connected to the melody I had heard in the song.

After searching for nearly two days, I finally came across a Rama mantra that fit perfectly:

Om Apadamapa

Hartaram Dataram Sarvasampada

Loka Bhi Ram Am

Shri Ram Am

Bhuyo Bhuyo Nyamam yah ham

The meaning is simple:

a praise of the generous, humble and just King Rama and gratitude for the blessing of life itself.

Something about it felt immediately correct — like a way to balance the gravity of accepting death with the simplicity of expressing gratitude for life.

As the new year approached, I made a commitment to finish the song completely on my own beginning January 1st, 2016. Over the next 31 days, I worked on “Daily Rebirth” anywhere from three to thirteen hours a day until it was complete.

It became the first song where I played every instrument, sang every vocal part, and handled the engineering myself from beginning to end.

And then I didn’t release it.

For years, the song remained mostly private.

Looking back now, I think part of me understood that I wasn’t fully living what the song was asking me to embody yet. “Daily Rebirth” was not really about death. It was about participation. Presence. Surrender. Gratitude. Learning how to let parts of yourself end without treating every ending like a tragedy.

It took me a long time to understand that more clearly.

So I let the song sit.

Marinate.

Live with me.

Nearly a decade later, it finally feels right to share.

Maybe that means I have changed.

Maybe it means the song has.

Probably both.

Either way, here it is.

Love and Respect,

Wiso

https://youtu.be/ZtwaDA7D4_w