I’m so lost inside my prayers that night is day and day is night. I go out in the storm and seek refuge from the sun. My music disappears when I try to capture it, and flows abundantly when I relax into its release. The urge to create perfection is my enemy. Embracing my huamnness is my salve. May all beings be happy, healthy, peaceful and at ease.
I’ve been practicing this Wim Hof breathing video every day for almost a week… It’s eaten into my music time on my cushion, but now I’m breathing more consciously— and maybe when my breath is strong enough, I will breathe consciously as I play my music. I have been preparing for this moment for so long: Where I feel totally free and at ease, allowing myself to create authentically from my deepest center, letting the love of life, of presence flow from me, radiating harmony into the world.
Singing, singing, learning this music for the Virtual Choir 6 Feeling the shame spiral because I did my habitual thing and waited until the day before to really dive into the music. I remember (again) that the way you do anything is the way you do everything, and behind my procrastination there was the perfectionist, just trying to find the perfect time. Well…now is the time. With my kids out of the house I have quiet. I can record this music. If only I can get it perfectrightdone. Yeah, Lorien, just get it done.
Well, I did it again! Returning home this afternoon after teaching two yoga classes; my music director neighbor was outside and mentioned a choral concert he was conducting at a church downtown, one hour after my evening workshop was finished. I think I can make it, I told him. But I may be kind of blahhhhh; I’ve had a busy weekend. Well, he said, We’ll see ya when we see ya! I taught my workshop, and my impulse was to go straight home and once again feel lonely and sorry for myself. Don’t go to the city the anxious one in me said, You’ll have to worry about parking and you’re a women by herself at night. I made myself go. I forced myself. I found parking not far from the church, arrived early, found a seat in the front row. The music was so beautiful I cried. Afterwards I gave my neighnor a hug, thanked him for the invitation. Home now, freshly showered, safe and warm, I’m so grateful I didn’t listen to the anxious voice telling me not to go. I think I’m on a roll!
The voice clearly said Bring your guitar and sing them the song. And she shook her head, thinking, No way. But the voice repeated Bring your guitar, and sing them the song. They went back and forth a few more times, until she acquiesced. She brought her guitar, she sang them the song. And then silence… So she asked the voice Why would you have me sing if they didn’t even acknowledge the song? And the voice said, It’s not about them, darling, It’s about how you relate to yourself when you step outside your box and let your voice be heard. Now, keep singing.
I could hear this one song playing in my head all day long but I couldn’t remember the artist or the title or the album art… nothing. I kept reminding myself to just relax, I would find it when it was time. But the music haunted me, and I kept searching. I went through so many playlists, scouring… And I was struck (again) by how I deprive myself of this beautiful present when I’m searching for what isn’t there, what isn’t available, what isn’t clear, what isn’t understood. Finally, I let it go. I went about my business. I lived my life. I read. I ate. I went to a twelve-step meeting. I checked in with a friend via telephone. And then, much later, I heard the song playing in my mind again. I searched another playlist, and within one minute I found it. And I was struck (again) at how everything comes to me in the perfect time and space sequence… and especially when I just relax and allow life to unfold.
So many choices in each moment.
What to create?
Is it time to rest?
To sew? I choose to sing.
I record my voice and listen.
I like the way it sounds,
so I keep going.
I’m learning something
about creativity and pleasure, trusting myself in the process.
Taught two yoga classes,
body is tired.
Kids are with their dad and his mistress
on a “family” trip to the ocean…
And I’m here, alone,
to make this time count.
What do I do?
Take a nap?
Read a book?
Make some art?
Write in my journal?
Play my guitar?
Bang on my drum?
Sew a dress?
Knit a scarf?
Drink some wine?
When faced with so many choices,
I work myself into such a tizzy
it’s hard to choose anything at all.
I suppose I could do all of the above.
But let’s be really really real—
isn’t it delightful to have so many choices?
Maybe I’ll just go write in my gratitude journal,
thankful to be asking these questions at all.