self prescribed, dose 2
I’ve never worked…hard for anything. But had all I could ask for. And the results many have worked relentlessly for. I guess the way I worked was different. I was the type who’s good at everything. But not a master at anything. Didn’t quite like anything especially either.
But there was this strange.. phenomenon. I could become a master, in split seconds. I would play the piano, over and over again, mathematically assessing everything, pointing out details, going back to fix.
Every second time, it hadn’t changed. Whether it was the second time, or the hundredth time, the same amount of improvement was made compared to the first time.
Then, there was this moment, that I became my audience. The moment of not caring one single bit about perfecting and controlling and proving.
In those moments, I would just keep breathing with all might. And tune my fingers to …another mind. And just listen, and appreciate the miracle it was. For me to even be there. For music to even exist. For that higher… things existing, to take over. For my privilege to be that audience, not quite the creator. Truthfully. For the right feeling, the whole feeling that gave.
And it would play out. Starting slow and soft every time. Already feeling the excitement of the peak. I guess that’s what dream with faith feels like. Knowing the peak off by heart, from dreaming about it so much, and going through the rest excited.
It’s a trap sometimes though. You tend to rush through it, over correct it. Play the slow parts fast reaching for the peak. Not realizing that the peak by itself, without all the slow parts and ups and downs means nothing.
Overcorrecting, thinking it should become perfect. Obsessing over it’s technical perfection. Not realizing it just doesn’t matter. Get stuck in the details, in small trivial things, would just show more details to tend to. It goes on forever. Not realizing that the conscious you is meant for something bigger. Meant for loving and appreciating it all. Not fixing. Because the creation is perfect. You just have got to become the audience and let it act out.
Words can’t capture much. There’s a percipience behind them thought. That, can catch people. Not the made up sounds we make, not just the noise energy. It’s its origins that speak. That’s why some songs sound different, feel different, catch different types and amounts of people.
When talking about life, and reality and truth …
Words see, to play a trick though. Whatever you sang, however you put it…it’s not correct. So much can’t fit in them. And you always have to trust the listener to fill the gaps , make the judgement, sort out the contradiction themselves.
But when you believe in people, absolutely honorable, the origin of your word being in belief. Absolute questionless belief, you’ll be surprised … and hurried; by what people find and told deep in them.
You affect the world and people in more ways you can imagine. By just breathing you do.
Some days, I just want to say nothing. I could lie, and write empty words. But sometimes, nothing is better.
For that day, that’s my inspiration.
Just void.
The reminder that I’ll go right back to it, even if I still don’t understand..
Start by daily confessions. They’ll form your craft, your art.
