weighted words.

I have a few things on my mind.



Mostly you could say they all come back to the general idea of first loves.

Which is unusual. Everybody knows how this works. Annie sits down to write with a hundred scattered-and-completely-unrelated ideas and considerations and somehow relays all-or-most of them within a 5-10 paragraph thoughtsplosion. Any method which could possibly be employed to line up aforementioned ideas in some kind of sensible outline (lists, bullets, numbering, etc.) is readily at hand. With reason in one hand and a fistful of tangled musings in the other, I usually just go at it.

And I guess you could pretty much expect the same this time around.

So, by "general idea" I think I really mean to say "I'm pretty much gonna still talk about whatever I want."

So. A list? Quite.


Thought 1: Cycles frustrate me. Actually, I am beginning to believe that cycles have frustrated everyone who has ever been caught in one. No one likes the "two steps forward, three steps back" feeling. If I ever found someone who did, he could have my share, and probably everyone else's, gratis. But the thing is, nobody wants that. Nobody wants to feel like they are caught by something from which they have no ability to free themselves. In particular, I am thinking of this as it pertains to me and music.

Always, it seems, someone is asking me, "Do you ever play (insert instrument name here) anymore?" To which I reply, "Not really, I just don't have any time."

Almost invariably, the reponse (uttered with either utmost fervency or relative passivity):

"Annie, you really shouldn't give that up."

Now, dear small audience, let me once and for all clarify the weight of the struggle which this interaction causes within me. Take my word, if anyone is aware of how much she "should" be playing her mandolin, violin, and piano, (preferably all at once and with great passion) it is I. However, I seem to be caught in a cycle which I have yet to conquer.

How do I push through the barriers and entrapments of my very busy life as a student, employee, daughter, friend, girlfriend, and God-chaser to find a releasing of my full musical abilities on the other side?

Or, perhaps the better question- would I even find such release if I tried with all my might?

Maybe.

Recently, I was told that there was still music inside me; an ability still lying partially dormant and unopened to the light of day. How do I respond to this?

I am thinking maybe the answer lies in first loves.

Did my heart first fall in love with the long, deep sounds of bow on string? Was I first captured by the weight of music beneath my fingertips?

Or did I tumble head over heels into a junkyard of sentences and pieces of my thoughts? Words, letters, punctuation- did they find me first?

Truthfully, I think yes. I played piano as a little girl and then stopped for several years, but I've been putting words together for what feels like my whole life. When I play piano, people smile and compliment me on the sounds of sixths and thirds laid out nicely beneath my fingers. But when I write...when I write, people can be filled with movement, laughter, hope, realization, understanding, peace- whatever. I know this is because the Spirit of God is my currency. His breath brings to life the jumbles of my heart that I put to page. Because of this, I don't want to ever stop writing. The presence of his words in mine is inspiring in and of itself.

But music. Music is...harder.


I am moved by music. I cry with it, dance with it, sometimes even laugh with it. But who in their right-brain hasn't done these things? The question is not "does music stir up passion in my heart?", the question is "is my heart made to make music?"

And honestly, I think yes.

I guess I am just wondering how to keep pushing. Perplexing, to say the least.


Anyway.

Thought 2: The ends of beginnings.

A melancholy thought, isn't it? You know what I'm talking about. It's that feeling you get after you paint the first few strokes onto the canvas. It's done; there's no going back. Cover it if you will, it will be there beneath the surface, still.

If I wasn't so abomidably sleepy, I would expound on this one. As it is, I can barely even spell expound.

Thought 3: Kings of Convenience = a first love. Perfect background music for any and all writing-type activities. Thoroughly recommended.


Now, despite the maelstrom of thoughts still leaping between the bunks in my heart's inner chambers, I've got to put myself to bed now.

Thank you for reading.
I know consistency is not my forte these days.

Nonetheless,
sleep sweet.