We All Scream

23 06 2014

As though it’s the lilt of a siren’s song reaching above the crash of surf on stone, my son can hear the ice cream truck when it is two blocks away over the hum of low-level aircraft and petroleum-fueled gardening conveniences. He runs around the house, straining to the tips of his toes out of each and every window, perhaps to steal a glance of the converted delivery van that, to this point and not without effort on my part, has remained entirely elusive. This is not over with, says the look on his face, and he goes back to his Melissa & Doug puzzle.

Settling into my office chair, I cannot help but stare out the window and relate. My own ice-cream-truck-of-a muse works her way up and down the streets of my neighborhood. On occasion, she will stop outside my house. I rush out to greet her, not limiting myself but enjoying a number of artistic delights. But for what seems like the overwhelming entirety, she remains an ephemeral concept, a fluid piper, trailing a measure of inspiration behind her down the sidewalk two or three streets over. Yes, I have a keen sense of hearing too…and the same eagerness to give chase. I want to leave this chair and run into the street, arms out as wings, turning and gliding as the fleeting moments of melody swirl. Thus the dilemma arises of leaving my son alone in the house, which I clearly cannot do, or dragging him headlong (and not in the slightest against his will) out into the streets where his ears will lead him in the direction of the promise of a different kind of sweetness.

So I remain in my chair. I satisfy myself with the notes that float through the window, savor them, and let my imagination play in a way my body cannot. Then my fingers begin; the embrace maybe not so unrequited. One paragraph introduces the second: frustration evolves into fruition. I give pause to breathe, and find I that have finally come this far. The footprints prove the path taken. Tiny steps start in the living room and end by my side. My son, too, has finished his puzzle.

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A Continuation

9 03 2011

Over the last few hours, I feel as though I have come to understand two important lessons, which I always understood in theory, but as of recently I haven’t been able to put into practice.

1) Play to your strengths. It’s simple enough. Do what you’re good at. But it might take you a while to be good at something. Or it might take you a while to KNOW you’re good at something. In my case, it has been about focusing less on what other people’s strengths are and more on what I know to be my own strengths. Some of which I have know about for years, some I am still becoming aware of, both of which remain to be mastered. Some are yet to be discovered. This journey is the exciting part.

2 Write what you know. Again, it doesn’t take a whole lot to understand this one. But again, it takes a little wisdom and experience to put it into practice. At some point, you are going to have to write about something you don’t know about. It then becomes your job to learn about it so you can then incorporate it into your writing. Hello! It’s what journalists have been doing since the dawn of time. Learning, observation, travel. These things also can be exciting.

I know these concepts may seem elementary. And they are. They should be. Because they are lessons one should come back to, they should be part of the foundation of our practice. As a practitioner evolves through his or her experience, early lessons can acquire deeper meaning and significance when held in the light of this experience.





Search for Purpose Yields An Answer: A Footnote

3 02 2011

I feel kind of bad. Well, not bad necessarily, but maybe a little dishonest. You see, I believe when started this blog I was quite adamant about the subject matter being about not one thing in particular, and as of late, my writing has been overwhelmingly music-centric. Those who really know me will not be surprised at all, and anyone else with a heartbeat, after learning that music is my true passion (writing, a skill by education), will find nothing out of the ordinary about someone writing about what moves them. I understand this too, and also subscribe to the notion that one must follow his or her muse. I should’t feel too bad. Indeed I should be ecstatic at the outpouring on the subject, considering how long I remained silent.

Yet still I wonder if I should alter the course a bit: either 1) decidedly narrowing the scope of this blog to only music, or 2) intentionally taking up a different subject just to mix it up. And now I guess there is a 3) go with the flow, because you have already made steps to mix it up, just let the ideas come to you for that will be most genuine. And that too was a promise I made from the very beginning.