I sat down at my piano a few hours ago and tried to improvise a song. The process proved mildly successful, but it was also nothing new, nothing that I haven’t heard before in my own mind—the same key progressions and shifts, the same chords and tempos, just arranged differently. Much like the same thoughts and fears that can run rampant through our minds, repeating and repeating. Maybe the music changes a bit, but it’s truly the same song.
And as I played, I considered the painstaking task of creating art. Any art, really.
And that, of course, led to grand ponderings of life itself. Because if anyone should solve the mysteries of life, it’s someone sitting down in front of a piano.
How beauty and sadness, pain and pleasure, and countless other emotions and sentiments are born within, felt and nurtured by the creator before branching outwards for others to consume the art.
Instead playing anything significant on the piano, I just sort of sat there, plucking notes I like to hear and adding a bit of complexity to it, while wondering how many other creatives were out there doing the same exact thing—pondering creation rather than actually doing it, or living within their own minds rather experiencing true life around them.
I’m extremely guilty of this when it comes to music–and other things, I suppose. I bought a fairly expensive guitar thinking that the monetary amount would somehow force me to learn and practice. That experiment failed miserably, though I’d still like to learn. And while I’m a mildly accomplished pianist, I often think about how good I could be if I actually still practiced and better understood music theory.
And again, I tie this to everything in life. The what if’s. If this was different. If I did this instead of this. Tried harder. Focused more. Didn’t say that. Asked those questions. The list never ends.
I plan on returning to fiction for the blog soon, but lately I’ve been so far inside my own head that I’m finding focus difficult, which is partially why I’m blogging.
A need to reorganize and distribute some of my thoughts, when I have far too many, when my monkey-mind won’t shut the fuck up and just let things be. A few times in the past week or so I’ve had to stop, take a deep breath, and remind myself that everything will be alright—once that thought stuck with me and became true belief, I’ve been happy to the point of glee. Somehow, I know that everything is right, or will be alright, and while I can’t rightly explain this feeling to myself or identify where it came from, I woke up a few days ago with a burning truth in my mind and haven’t been able to lose it since. Nor do I want to lose it—this feeling. It’s one of the truest things I’ve ever known.
I didn’t understand it in what now feels like the distant past, but I’ve battled devastating anxiety that ended up ruining far too many of my hopes and goals. I think, perhaps, that that anxiety was attempting to creep its way back into my mind, and perhaps my practice in lucid dreaming helped or some sort of spirit visited me in my sleep, because, as I said, I woke feeling like a different person. A better person.
If you’re wondering, nothing was wrong with me prior. I’ve been great. Better than I can remember in a very long time. I’m healthy and happy and this October, my favorite month, was fantastic. Horror movies. Hiking in New Hampshire. Spooky dates that went better than I thought possible.
So, what’s the point of this internal monologue? It’s a reminder to myself and anyone that may need to hear it, that a maddening call for action often leads to inaction and undesired results. A gentle reminder, because we’re all delicate creatures even if we rather not admit it. We can only control so much. And as long as we’re honest with ourselves and our actions and inactions, things will unfold as they should. We do need to practice and work and better ourselves and those around us. We need to hope and dream and love and open ourselves to art and each other. Because no one should be alone and art should never go unobserved. But nothing should be rushed. It’s alright to breathe for a bit and laugh at yourself, because we’re all idiots and all brokenly human. Mend each other, and mend yourself. And while time is limited, it’s also our greatest resource. Use it wisely, but don’t be afraid that it will suddenly run out.
Thanks for reading.