Sleep is a luxury. When I am deeply troubled sleep is the first thing that goes. Either I sleep too much or barely at all.
A few months ago all I did was sleep, eat and write music. I kept horrible hours. Sometimes waking up at 2am and writing until 10, only to sleep whenever I could. I was writing music to stay sane, to cope….to forget.
We don’t heal in isolation, this we all know. Yet it astounds me when I realise just how frazzled, how frayed my edges are
I have been looked at with hungry, greedy eyes before. Eyes with sharks circling. And pictured, mentally, being devoured while words are stuck in my throat and my heart bursting with music. The image, I must confess is rather appealing. However, I have never been looked at with reverence before. Or felt sanctified, from my head to my toes – sacred. And then it hits you. My heart has been roaming outside of my chest for so long I have forgotten. It’s enough to make one weep.
I will be traveling soon and am grateful for it. The distraction of music, the place, the people, noise and busyness. It was my daughter who urged me to create space for more than just music, to anchor myself to a place, a person, to not be on the move all the time.
That idea could seduce one easily. As easily as sleep could….if it came.