Finally, the music is playing again.
It has been 18 months of silence.
Oh, the music has been around, but not everywhere. A few select places. Everywhere else silence. Random songs, stanzas that stayed for a while and then left.
Sometimes the music was present only once a week, eagerly gulped down as if I were afraid that if I took too long in the listening someone else would steal the sound away from me.
How does one make the choice to leave the music? Is it a one major conscious choice or many small random unrecognizable choices. Isn't it rather like choosing not to breathe?
That is what the past eighteen months have been like. Holding my breath. Forgetting to exhale.
When I finally remembered to breathe, to exhale air and inhale sound, I took massive deep gulps of air. The music tripped over my tongue, tickling my tonsils, down into the belly moving into the blood and back into my heart, brain and sole.
How had I ever lasted this long?
How did I manage to commute without song?
To clean house without song and dance?
Friday afternoons without Janis? Singing with Judy?
Maybe the music started again with the sound of drums, and naked ladies and one Jonathan.
I got the music in me.
Again.
1 comment:
The music is in me. It has always been that way. It's good to see that someone else understands, thanks for your post.
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