Piques and valleys.....

It seems not much "piques" my interests these days.  I've settled into a decidedly deep rut and the normal creature comforts that soothe my savage beast are without merit.  I am singing again, which is great.  I need to sing, it's like air to me.  Sounds corny but it has been such a part of me for so long that when it left me I felt like I was drowning.  My dear coach spoke to me about finding my fire and I know where that fire is but am having a hard time finding the kindling to keep it going.  But I do it, even if it's not the most inspired of musical adventures I do it.  It's like going to the gym on a cold morning or eating that spinach you know you need.  It is a part of my routine and I'm trying to honor it.

I had an amazing weekend with some of my framily in Philadelphia.  One of them lost their Mother this past fall and we had some time to speak about our journeys.  She said that since her Mother has passed she has found this new urgency in the way she interacts with her children.  She understands how short life is and wants them to seize absolutely every moment, quickly, for there simply isn't enough time for all the beauty of this world.  I haven't quite had the same reaction.  For me it seems time is too long on this earth and all I crave is to be with my Mother again.  My friend is further along this grisly path than I am and I hope for that spark of recognition that reveals to me the magical wonder of this sphere.  But for now I slog to the practice room and try to appear like the cracks in my facade aren't obvious.   I have no children to pass this knowledge too. I'm just myself, swimming in this sea of molasses.

My coach told me that grief has a rhythm. I couldn't agree more.  Today it is that slow, insistent, pounding that won't let me heal or move on.  It engenders regret and immobilizing sadness.

As they say, dear friends, the beat goes on.  Tomorrow I'm praying for an upbeat.