“When you’re speaking in the truest, most intimate voice about your life, you are speaking with the universal voice.”

Once upon a time, I was certain of my own truths, the solid ground underneath my feet. Until world ending scenarios played themselves out in my life. As Yeats  famously said, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.” Very often that’s how we learn best.

I find Truth and all the numerous silences that punctuate our everyday lives fascinating. That’s the reason I stop people mid-sentence to jot down their words. In the hope that the small bit of truism gleamed can evolve into a greater truth; a reality framed by music. Every so often, I refract truths and hide bits of myself wherever I can.  As I did today when I wrote, “Keep me safe, keep me warm, Wrap your arms around the places that are scarred and torn. I’m tired of swallowing my sorrow, my undecided words…” This is a song I will complete when I one day or not at all.

I heard someone say, in passing, that Truth is a form of service. Here’s a confession. I am tired of truth! She takes so many different forms. At times an ugly hag, the smell of stale cigarette and cheap brandy cloying to her skin, her hair, her clothes, the very air, as you pass. On a warm night, an alluring, seductive lover who inspires Music with one single glance. A symphony when his hands reaches out for yours. Then there are days when I can no longer decipher just who I am staring at, listening to…. and around which corner to find Truth.

Carl Sagan’s words does offer comfort, “If we ever reach the point where we think we thoroughly understand who we are and where we came from, we will have failed.” Very often I hear myself saying, “Don’t say a single thing. Nothing.” This, after admitting a truth to myself. Internally I am asking that the world, my world, stop turning for a second or three.  Stop. Pause. Be Silent. My silences take different forms. At times I refrain from speaking, at other times the words spill out of my mouth carelessly. In that Silence, I cross examine myself relentlessly. What am I hearing or failing to hear? Seeing or failing to see? I speak and write when my silence is ready to be broken.

Then Music is written and my reality re-framed, and I am able to breathe, to sleep…and move forward.

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