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Monday, March 20, 2006
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it turns out that i love the whole damn universe.
Well, I'll expound on the point later, but right now, the catalyst for all this love is Nancy's post about momhood. It made me cry at work -- happy tears, but tears nonetheless -- and usually, the only thing that makes me cry is, well, the coffee running out. And then I try and follow the eternally haunting advice of Melissa Manchester:
Don't cry out loud
Just keep it inside, learn how to hide your feelings
Fly high and proud
And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all...
That's right. I swear it applies to coffee.
Anyhow, YAY for new moms and new babies. And YAY for happy posts. And YAY for how utterly gagworthy and saccharine I'm being right now without A SINGLE REGRET.
It's sunny. Babies are cool. I have bare feet. Exactly how could I be anything less than preposterously blissy?
Go tell Nance how happy you are. Go do it. NOW.
5:29:17 PM 
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how sweet it is.I have always been one to sing along with whatever music is playing, even if I'm just hearing a tune for the first time. You can usually pick up the harmony somewhere, at the very least.
And I think that's exactly how I go through life, too: ears wide open, eyes looking up and to the left, searching for the right words in my brain. I wait to pick up the pitch and tone of the moment, and then I do my best to blend in, or if need be, carry the melody.
I used to be scared to stand up and sing. Even if I knew the song.
Now I'm not so concerned if I hit a note sharp or flat. I know how things are supposed to sound deep down, and even if I mess up, my heart is playing it just as it should go.
And there's something so delicious about imperfection, anyhow.
I've been enamoured of the classic singer/songwriters of my childhood lately; my iPod is riddled with their stripped-down, guitar and piano-driven compositions. There's something so pure and real and honest about the things they were saying and how they said them.
Joni Mitchell, Stevie Wonder, Paul Simon, Leonard Cohen, Bonnie Raitt, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Billy Joel, Arlo Guthrie, James Taylor, Carole King, Carly Simon, Laura Nyro... oh, goodness.
Some of those names don't have much in common, but for me, they are -- in combination -- the voice of my history and my idealism and my hopes and everything I ever thought about love before I experienced it for the first time. And thereafter, of course.
From them, I learned about the messages I wanted to put out into the world.
How everyday life was full of poetry.
How the simplest words held the greatest meaning.
How a true voice could be the prettiest thing on earth.
How courage was not as complicated as I thought it was, but a simple matter of choices.
How loving someone else was the greatest thing you could do -- and the hardest.
From them, I learned to pick up harmonies and play by ear and write my own songs. To write my own life, word by word. And how to hear the music in everyone else's lives, and sing along as needed.
After all, singing along is what I do, even when the tune is still a mystery waiting to evolve.
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1:04:53 AM
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© Copyright
2006
Meg Fowler.
Last update:
4/1/06; 11:44:01 PM. |
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