This is a blow by blow a confession of everything I have felt or ever will. Every high, low or mid frequency thought anchored and stripped bare. I do worry about my own mental health at times.Still. I write to empty myself out. I sing to release. As I get on with my life and all the very odd and crazy things that come with it.
The remembrance that death is a constant shocks me, as it did yesterday. Last night I sat with my back against a huge tree and cried, as I missed my father. Small moments like these will come and go, I reckon. I learnt to be present with my own pain. At times, even the knowing that love is omnipresent slides by me. Love, the foundation this world is built upon. Not love as a personal agenda. Or love rooted in fear.
Today I asked myself to list the top 20 things i would like to experience. I won’t lie, most revolved around Music. The amplification of sound and emotion. The creation of a body of work I am deeply proud of. Where to start, how? Once I let my sadness breathe, listened to music and meditated, bits of the answers rubbed up against me and said ‘hello!’. Isn’t this so often the case?
On an unrelated note, I spent the entire day in the sun, reading a book and falling asleep in a hammock. It is the height of luxury as far as I am concerned. In fact, doing anything in the sun works for me. When Jody asked me, at quizz night a few weeks ago, what period in time would I like to live in, I answered, ‘Before the colonialists came.’ A heathen sun worshiper in communion with nature and the gods! Come on now, who could ask for more eh? Right now I feel so energized…and lush after spending the day roasting in the sun. What must it have been like then?
We all forget the big and small things easily. For example, a few weeks ago I fell asleep reading. My phone plugged in across the room. Gods, I slept well. See what I mean? I value a good night’s rest, yet forgot how intrusive a phone can be. And seriously, if anyone wanted to get hold of me and tried only once, it cannot be as important.
Human being are complex, aren’t we? Yet, our capacity to love….well, that’s the stuff books, movies and songs are made of. And for a very good reason! We all become little suns when we love, and even then the desert has no choice but to bloom.