Sometimes I write because I feel I have some perspective to share, some hope, some fragment of wisdom. Sometimes I write because I feel my insides have been turned into outsides and I feel ravaged and displaced. Sometimes I write because the embarrassment or the sorrow, the grief or the burden or the sore has nowhere to go and then I can write it out. Most often it goes nowhere but sometimes I get brave and press 'send'. Today I write because of what happened yesterday.
Live music is my salvation. It's the one time I feel my whole body relax and succumb. I need it. I need to feel music in my body not just in my ears. But yesterday I was crippled and crushed. Broken and scattered. Racing heart, racing head, shallow breath. I had no place. The gig I had been scoring down the days for, for months and months, was in jeopardy. This happens a lot and frequently ends in a broken dream. I could go into great detail about all of the problems and symptoms and worries. Or I could just say that I really fought with myself. I really put into practice what I'm learning. I had thoughts, acknowledged them and made them float past me (actually I shoved them down the river much more 'your time is up' and much less 'Pooh sticks'). I had a racing heart and I made my body stop to show my heart how to slow. I breathed out, properly out (have you noticed when panic takes over we breathe in more than out, compounding the feeling of rising panic in our chests? Combat this with a longer out breath.) Throughout the working day I also worked on myself.
I did it! I made the gig. And today I am invigorated with pride. I'm still there singing. I'm still there clapping. I'm still there shining my little light. I'm living today on the memory of yesterday...all too often that's for a bad reason and today it is for a good one. My message is this. It IS possible. It IS possible to break out and be you, even if only for a little bit. Find your thing. Be you. Superhero pants over tights are optional, but will delight others.
Until the next time...I send love.
The room above the garage.
A Moodscope member.
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