You wake up with a mild sense of dislocation, for a moment wondering where you are and when you are.
Loss today takes on a new meaning that’s all too familiar; at a loss for words.
With that slightly unbalanced feeling of an ever-growing need to express, and being unable. And not even knowing where to begin.
“Do you write?” I was asked today, the question framed in the context of words and music. While probably only a beat, my answer of “yes” came after what felt like a lifetime pause.
Yet that simple one word reply burned on my tongue like a coal of fire. It wasn’t a lie, but honest to God felt like one. I stumbled through the rest of the conversation with the grace of a wounded animal, but in the human way of mask in place to hide the fade.
I play music every week. I listen to music every day. I read about it, watch documentaries and shows and films filled with it.
But the disquiet (a polite way to say horribly empty unrest) is there, a constant companion who sticks closer than a brother.
Music feels out of reach.
Time sprung forward today to accommodate the coming longer days of spring and summer. Yet it feels like I’ve leapt forward to a time where music lies behind.
“Call unto me,” the scripture says, “and I will answer…”
Is the silence an answer?
I will sit here in the quiet and unrest and wait…