not a sad song tonight.
in Performance, Thoughts and Feelings, video
as armor, chink, constant companion, heart, home, Jess, little stream, minor chords, new melody, Pinocchio, song
My heart is full today.
So full, that you might even say it’s heavy.
And so I needed to go. Just go. It’s hard to explain, really. But there’s something about hiking outside that puts a tiny chink in whatever armor is holding in that heavy feeling in my heart. As I walk, I can feel my heart get lighter. And then sometimes I cry, too, and that seems to help. Like once again, it’s another chink in that armor of sadness. And tear by tear, it drains away.
Until I found myself sitting at a little stream. I listened to the way the water sounded like a mama saying Shhhhhhhh to her baby, reminding that baby that it was gonna be okay; you’ll see, little one.
And I will see.
Sometimes I already do. And sometimes I don’t, but that’s okay because looks aren’t everything. Not in a person and not in your life. But still, they certainly do help.
I got back home and decided to write some music. For a while, nothing was coming. Sure, little bits–but nothings that begged to be made into a whole song. I kept getting stuck in minor chords and I was there, repeating the same rhetoric since November last and frankly, I felt tired of it.
Sort of tired of everything.
But not the sky. Which is why I had to sit at the window for a while and watch it get darker; watch the nighttime perform the gentlest, most peaceful coup ever as daylight just sort of stepped out the back door and didn’t mind the break anyway. Let nighttime have its chance, it doesn’t take away from the day just like somebody else singing their songs detracts nothing from you singing yours.
And then finally, I went home. I still felt restless inside, but on the walk home I felt a new melody drop into my head. And it was all, There’s more where that came from. Come on, Jess, just listen. I’m here, talking. Just listen and then write down what you hear.
So not to argue with a melody, I did just that.
And it was a nice break from the sad songs that have been my constant companion these past months.
It’s a sweet song and I like it, I think.
But enough talking about it, here you go–a little rough version of the thing that begged to be made in a real song, much like what Pinocchio the toy boy (not to be confused with boy toy!) did with Geppetto.
being outside makes me think of this.
in Funny Stuff, Thoughts and Feelings
as bottom of the hill, dirt, lightning storm, little stream, loamy, sense, sense of wonder, stream, thought, thunder and lightning
There is a little stream at the bottom of the hill my parents’ house sits atop.
Only right now, the stream is not so little.
I know this because I could hear it rushing by while walking to the door, all of that sound mighty in the darkness. They say that if you lose one sense, the other senses become stronger. Maybe it was like that for me tonight; maybe it is because I couldn’t see so far in the dark that the stream was so wonderfully loud.
But I also know that the stream is no longer little because, well, there was a full on, knock down, drag out thunder and lightning storm this afternoon. In March. And the sky was all, What? And I was all, Um, it’s March. Sorry, but I’m gonna stare.
And the thunder sounded with that kind of peel that makes you wonder if you should stop whatever it is you’re doing for just a second; not even because you want to (though if running is the thing that I am doing, then I probably do, to be honest), but because something that loud should probably get your full attention. Just to be safe. And just to make sure you don’t lose your sense of wonder at the world around you, too.
But the stream.
I guess all of its relatives stopped by. At the same time. And it’s not even like it’s Christmas so most people are prepared for the guests and the cooking and the sharing of the television remote.
Not that I would know much about that.
Ha. That sounds like I don’t share the remote, when the truth is I don’t know how to use the remote, so please, be my guest.
So I could hear the stream bustling about down at the bottom of the hill, trying to find room, scrambling up to the bank, even, to fit all the water in. And it sounded busy, yes, but it also sounded excited. Like the buzz of neon that tells passerby’s when something is OPEN. It’s a little hectic, all lit up like that, but there’s a charge to it too. And then you go in, you see that right mix of people inside, and you’re glad it was open. And suddenly you’re happy to be smooshed with company such as this. It beats spreading out alone, I guess.
And so yeah, I hope the stream is happy for its company. Though they’ll probably be gone by morning; they almost always are.
And then, right before I stepped inside, I saw a rake propped up against the side of the house. And I was filled with a quirky little sense of well-being. I like the thought of living somewhere that requires a rake. I like the thought of the earth being taken care of. I like even the thought of dirt. Dirt that is loamy, which is a word that makes you think of dirt so good, they might serve it in a pretty silver dish, maybe with some whipped cream on top.
And perhaps I will have a loamy birthday cake this year. And since a pale pink is such a pretty contrast to brown, perhaps the icing will be pink and nobody will actually want to eat my cake, it being made out of dirt and all.
So instead, we will pick out the worms from inside. And then my brothers and I will try our luck once more at the Old Fishing Hole, just like I would do when I was not nearly so tall and my hair was not nearly so blonde.
And I will think my birthday is pretty good, as birthdays go.
Though I cannot say the same for the fish we will catch with the worms from the loamy birthday cake nobody will ever eat.
Cause gross, dirt.
