It has been a long day–I spent several hours at my sister’s house constructing a loft bed for her daughter only to realize that my suspicions were true: the bed was too tall for the room and will need to have a few inches cut off the bottom of the bed. It was a bit funny if painful to watch her trying to crawl up into the bed without bumping her head on the ceiling. Alas, it is back to the drawing board for us on this project. It seemed like it was going to work, and then suddenly it didn’t. And so this evening I find myself a little frustrated with myself and a little cranky. It’ll pass, this feeling, but for this moment I think I’ll sit in it and splash around a bit in here.
I am grateful this evening for the written word. As I write this blog I am listening to my daughter’s new song–recorded and mastered with instruments, background vocals, the whole nine. It is beautiful and I am incredibly proud of her. Of course it makes me want to get my guitar out and sing, so I just might have to before I lay me down to sleep. As I pondered what I was going to write about this evening, I spun the wheel and ran across a post in which I included a poem by Mary Oliver. This sent me on a journey of reading various poems and I realize how much I enjoy running across poems that speak directly to something that I’m thinking about or going through in my life. It reminds me that I used to be a poet, a lyricist, a songwriter. It has been a really long time since I was inspired to write a song. Play and sing every day, I can hear my friend joHn’s voice in my head reminding me to return to what I used to do long ago when the creative juices ran much more freely. Now they are more the consistency of pinesap, still present but flowing much more slowly now. I will have to see if I can get them warmed up and running again. Perhaps I’ll begin tonight just by playing and singing a little bit and we’ll see where it goes.
I am grateful to be inspired anew by the creativity of my children, both of whom have turned into wonderful musicians. While each of them was no doubt born with a gift for music, they have added training and hours of practice to shape this gift into an even deeper talent. I am pleased to have contributed to their growth over the years; some of the first songs my daughter played on the guitar were songs I had written, and every once in a while I’ll hear a little riff of my music in something my son has composed. I am proud of their wonderful talents and am frequently the beneficiary of new pieces of music they are composing. It’s like participating in a miracle of creation only it’s a new song being born rather than a living being. It’s a wonderful thing.
I started out this evening feeling a little tired and too out of sorts to write much, but after spending a half hour or so listening to my daughter’s new song over and over again, I’m feeling relaxed and ready to play for a few minutes before I take my rest for the evening. Grateful for the relaxation it brings, I’ll sing myself to sleep.
