What is it about music? Just as much as a long forgotten scent caught on a whiff of wind, music instantly transports me. Long ago heartaches, moments of love and despair, the ecstasy of youth—music forces me to feel it all over again. And, though it’s mostly painful, somehow it feels good to revisit all those old times. Will I look back at my thirties and forties through the window of music someday far in the future? Probably. Will the sound of folk songs make me miss the warmth of cuddly pudgy babies, or the elastic exuberance of a toddler, or the bony hugs of a preteen? Probably. Maybe the past always brings that twinge of pain with it
So how do I savor the very moment—can I make myself feel that poignancy while I am in the midst of life itself? Do I need to face death itself before I can feel the reality of time passing, of death approaching? I’m afraid to go to the doctor. I put it off, day after day, feeling lumps in my breasts and knowing that I can’t face someone telling me my future is short. At the same time, I know that not going to the doctor doesn’t somehow lengthen the future, doesn’t keep me alive.
And while my life has been rich, I don’t want to go back, even if I could. I love where I am right now, feel as though I am on the cusp of something important, something magnificent, something that I was put here to do. I know that I need to forge ahead, set goals and speak aloud my dreams if I want to succeed.
When I speak of success, I don’t mean commercial or financial. I mean the kind of success that comes from getting out of my own way and letting the creative into my life.