Revitalized

Music for "Romance" and my only classical guitar.

I had an epiphany while traveling in the car Wednesday, in the middle of a conversation that took most of the day. My brother and I were talking being stuck in writing. I was frustrated with my inability to produce pages or cohesive thoughts and such strong insecurity it was stymying me this summer. Why was I more productive in previous summers? What had changed? A lot. As it is with life, the family is growing older. All of us. Mom requires more care. My brother and I want to help dad out more. I often am on my haunches, waiting for my dad to call out with a request to go to the store or help with the household chores. That's part of it. I also have felt unsettled since Trump became president. Just typing that and thinking of McConnell and the corrupt goons that surround Trump, I'm anxious. The divisiveness they create and allow. The blatant hypocrisy. I don't recognize the Republican party in my own country anymore. Venezuela is fighting for freedom and life. I can't help but see a connection and heed the warning. It feels ominous. Who will be the scapegoat? If Trump tries for absolute power, will his henchmen give it to him? Are we living through Orwellian times? None of that helps. And there's more. I start a new job in August. I am obese. I don't want to be the obese new girl and am working like hell to take up less physical space. I feel an assortment of emotions when considering the new job. So mostly I don't think about the new job. When I do, I try to breathe and practice mindfulness. Within all of this, it dawns on me that I haven't played guitar since April. That's way too long for me. I have known for years that for me, playing guitar is probably what normal, non demi-sexual people feel about sex. It offers me clarity of mind, relaxation, higher creativity, a sense of calm and this tremendous release of energy. It isn't quite orgasmic, but it is wonderful. I swore that when I recovered from the black dots on my finger tips that caused incredible pain (during vasculitis), I would play guitar. I did. For a while. Until August 2018. Work ruined everything when it started to be exhausting to hate my job and be so miserable. Music. Guitar. Writing. Even meditation. Disappeared. I was a basket case and stressed out. I cried to and from work. Eventually, meditation (and beach trips for sunrise meditation) returned. This afternoon, after working out, enjoying a home-made, french toast breakfast, organizing journals and my music space, I made time to play guitar. It didn't take long for my hands to ache with tension from lack of practice. I breathed and went slow; allowed myself to be a bad beginner. Within 30 minutes, that tension was released. At the end of the classical guitar session, I learned the beginning of "Better Together" by Jack Johnson. I reviewed the chords for John Frusciante's "The Past Recedes". Noodled around with "Fake Plastic Trees". It felt so good to play. I need to remember this feeling, hold on to it so that I make guitar a daily habit, for my soul and peace of mind.

Walk in beauty and peace + find your bliss, my most excellent peeps.

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