The following is an excerpt from one of my journals that I stumbled upon in search of a blank space to write. It reminded me that even in those times that feel so dark and desperate, our music is always calling us, and we sometimes need only quiet the riot of self-pity, take steps forward in the dark, watch for the light, listen for the guidance, and trust the truth we hear…
It took me hours to force this pen to paper. I don’t feel like writing. I feel incapable of the task, of any task, surely of any task of value. Frankly, I feel like crap to put it mildly.
I feel like a massive freaking failure. In so many ways that I could literally write for days. Save that my pen find a way to penetrate my heart.
I feel I am that rare kind of idiot who actually manages to make nothing out of something. I don’t just feel it; I have proof… I’m sitting in the void right now; wallowing in the sinkhole…
I had to pause for a moment, as a wave of heavy sadness washed over me. I felt like I was hopelessly suspended in the undertow of overwhelming emotion – part of me thinking, hoping, wishing I would just get carried out to sea.
Just as the wave was cresting, the piano beside me in this inviting little cafe came to life – gently, sweetly, soaringly – in confident response to the maestro’s soft, loving caress and passionate urging of the expectant whites and blacks of potential. Potential that was utterly dormant, in peaceful slumber just moments ago, yet perfectly ready to be reminded why they so silently, patiently lie waiting to fly. Silently, patiently waiting to fly!
I am reminded, grudgingly, gratefully: my Why is the grand piano of my own potential, the keys to my own soaring song that must be played. It’s okay if I play melancholic music today, but self-pity will not have it’s inelegant way. It’s really not okay not to play. Life needs my music, no matter what ego may say!