The Music of Musings

(This blog is dedicated to those that struggle within their mind, or fight internal battles everyday to stay healthy, to stay afloat,  and also to those that listen to me every day, who wander these moonlit paths with me, not squirming or growing squeamish in my telling. I value you. You know who you are <3 ) sometimes I have a phrase, a lovely turn of words that directs the course of a blog, like a rudder, guiding the words forward, feeling their way through choppy and smooth seas by turn. But tonight I don't know how to start this. How to express what I feel. There's so many different emotions swirling in the center of me, feeling their way to my skin, peeling back layers, allowing expression when perhaps I wouldn't want anyone to see, when I fight my tears of anger and frustration.  But that's how it goes sometimes, these tough places in life, these unwieldy places that sometimes get so heavy that I drop what I’m carrying, or I fall down, or at the very...

A child's hand, a simple melody, a dancing leaf....the little things. Do you ever think of how hard a path is and forget? Forget that the little things always are? In the middle, in the strife, in the cacophony of life? Remember now...remember the little things. A sparkling twinkle in someone's eye, a giggle, a cat's purr, the feel of fall sweaters. There's the smell of cinnamon, the taste of a sugar cookie, a gentle hug and enfolding.  Reach now, look for those things. They are there, in the pain, in the flight, in the darkest hours of midnight.  Someone said this to me earlier this past summer...look for the little things and I realized I had forgotten. Did you too? Forget that the little things are what matter most? The vision of a tree against the moonlight, the feel of grass under your palm, the sharp scent of autumn?  What about your child's sleepy good night, and sparkling water dripping from a leaf? Gentle warmth on a cold evening, hot ...

I feel through these dark spaces, wandering, not quite lost, one space and then another. I am afraid to place this weight where it will sink another. I tiptoe, lightly. I am reaching to express the few sunbeams that remain. Say the right thing, show the right thing. Flashing smiles and trite expression. Nothing else is welcome here. And in the dark, I feel myself. This ink that is so palpable. Sinking, swirling, those eddies of blue and midnight. I am alone. There is anger is some of this. Why can't anyone hold this but me? Why are so few able to walk these shady places with me? A few profess to only speak of positive things. I feel myself sneer at them, not exactly wishing them to understand. Am I just meant to travail alone? Does everyone travail alone? These inner workings, these midnight spaces. Life for me is exorbitantly heavy. I did not choose it so. There is loss and there is heartbreak in one destined for music, then losing her way; when she finds herself, now r...