Did you ever stop to think that we are a part of, a strand of, a continuation of the ball of earth we rest atop? My mom and I were talking earlier tonight, watching the sun set and create saguaro silhouettes- it's our own little tradition. We create a Parisian cafe in our desert sideyard where we're hidden my crawling, creeping bushes and passerby's fears of snakes- we have yet to see a rattler lurking, waiting for tasty morsels of our standard brie and wine accompaniment to conversation. Tonight, the topic: whimsical life, fantastical life, mesmerizing life. We straddle the orb of mother earth- we walk across her spine, rest atop her shoulders like Atlas- how often can we hear her communicating with us? We're barnacles to her existence, dependent on her generosity. She gives and gives, and yes, common argument would say we only take, but I believe that man's eyes are widening to the fleshy earth around him. Environmental movements, healthy, organic eating (kudos Megan and Ilana), the appreciators of nature, hikers, bikers, climbers, campers...knowledge seeps upwards with each generation, from the core of the sphere we perch atop- it's comforting to know that an open pathway of communication exists. Have you ever been so overwhelmed by joy, so full, that you're thankful for your thin coating of skin to keep the river of happiness from raging outwards, flowing into the life around it, that it's a part of? I have those moments, more frequent that the average joe, therefore meaning that I am a pseudo-psycotic mind wanderer who spends more time dreaming up lives that being aware- but you wanna know whats brilliant about that? I've always been told to BE PRESENT, BE PRESENT, witness the wonders that surround you. As a dreamer, you do that- you take the ordinary and sprinkle it with fairy dust, you give life to plants and creatures and aspirations as if you're on a 70s acid trip, Beatles style, combing rainbow highlights into life. Dreamers don't always remove themselves from reality- sometimes, we just stare down at it from above, using binoculars, watching everything, and linking it all together, stringing a pathway from A to Z that shows patters between what we think of as living, and the breathing, perspiring cells of everything else, those things without a measurable pulse, thumping heartbeat.
My house, right now, is full of music. FULL BURSTING EXPLODING RELEASING noise from boys and wise pearls from girls- my brother blasts rap from his room, a rhymic beat to the cleaning of the kitchen that commences post taco delicacies- my mom's radio battles the modern mode with throwbacks to classic, lullabies and crooney drones- rememberable (I declare that to be a word). PULSING FLOWING JIVING STRIVING life...we all are running towards something, from something- staring straight at a misty future, whatever that future may be...I'll figure that out when I break through the fog. I just wanted to write about how I think it is so ok, so acceptable, to be lost, presently, in your mind- abandon tunnel vision, hold dreams on a high shelf but don't constantly reach to pull them down to your level- let the years ahead rest in the cubbies, remain behind their doors- someday, we're all going to get there. But for now, groove a little to your own rhythm.
"Music is an outburst of the soul" ~Frederick Delius
"Music and silence go hand in hand because music is done with silence and silence is full of music." ~Marcel Marceau
Task: In search of music in the silences, light in the darkness, beauty in the norms... my computer is taking too long to download, but go to this site for a little musical awakening: