I’ve spent so much time writing about nothing.
You ever spend three hours doing something and then think, “Wow, I just did a lot of.. nothing.”
I think people might consider this working at a job they dislike. Or at night, while binging a show that really wasn’t worth watching more than one episode – if even that. We sleep a bit longer on our day off and then feel poorly – like we wasted time doing nothing of worth.
We all want to feel accomplished. I think that might be the word.
Accomplished: To carry out or finish an action. Finish what you set out to do. Be proficient in something.
But rarely do we fulfill this person we “think” we are. In our minds, we truly think we are smarter, braver, kinder, more talented, and even more beautiful. We play the false humility card quite a bit. We think this makes us sound a better human. A better being.
And… we all want to be more empathic, compassionate, kind, giving. We all want to be the better angels of our nature.
I hear or see people on the internet, streamers, twitter kids, facebook grannies, or even just bloggers like me. We write, speak and comment in a way that will make others speak and think better of us.
Our… presentation. Our presentation in life. We are always making a presentation.
Yet, when we get alone we tend to think of everyone else. Thinking less of another. Hating another. Dismissing another. Grumbling within. Smashing the keyboard keys without, with our dislike and hate.
I truly believe people need to meditate more. Not to find out what is right or good. Meditate to find out who you are. Deep inside – who are you?
Meditating to figure out how to judge others is not healthy.
Meditating to figure out yourself – good.
Accolades are nice. Being recognized by another is very nice. Hearing someone sing your praises is pretty gratifying.
I’m not sure I ever shared this before but I have performed in the past (many, many years ago). I’ve sung to hundreds, and then I’ve sung to a small room of friends. I once got stuck on the side of the road and sang in a diner for some extra cash.
The applauds feel good. Recognition. When someone bought my second poetry book to give to their grown daughter as a gift, it made me feel really happy.
(Side note: Please, the first poetry book I wrote was really bad – don’t buy it. It really was just me throwing something together because of a dare. A dare to finally move forward and publish something. Anything. I didn’t even format the thing. That isn’t false humility – it’s just reality. It’s a really bad book. Only worth buying if you want to make a donation to this fellow struggling human. Make the donation and then use the book to light your fireplace.)
But when that second book – with poetry I felt proud to have written – was bought? It wasn’t only making her loved one happy with my poetry, but they thought my poorly constructed (false humility) words were so inspirational and well-done that it would make their loved one happy. What a nice ego boost.
Actually, I’m a really good lyricist. I think I’m comparable to any other lyricist out there. I might not be the best, but I’m not bad at writing lyrics and poetry. It’s my forte. I write music, but my compositions are not as good as my words.
Why am I writing all of this?
I’ve been thinking a lot about how to be more of myself. When I just sat alone writing music was probably my happiest and most comforting time of life. When I get quiet and write words from deep within my soul, it’s extremely satisfying.
There is something very comforting in sitting alone and playing an instrument. It almost forces you to meditate and takes you to better places and thoughts.
I really think those who are musically adept wake up a bit more than those who are not involved in music. That might be my bias. But, there is just something about music. Whether you are an avid listener of good music, lyricist, composer, or musician. It does free you up to another place.
Music. Creating music. Writing poetry. These are things that made me feel good inside. It made me feel my soul was worn on the outside and inside.
You ever just smile randomly? That is writing lyrically to me. It’s me smiling randomly for no real reason.
And so, in a roundabout way, I am announcing that I am once again working on my third book of poetry, Poetry to the Third. I know nothing about math. There is no reason to call this book that title. I’m actually quite dumb when it comes to math. I just liked the way it sounded.
Poetry, from Poetry to the Third
There was nothing left to give
I said to the figure in my head
And then I had a dream
Of hopes and things
Myriad worlds and loose leafed words
Active sounds and verbs to complete
The stranger places I’d never truly seen
And yet, it’s palatable
There, that is where I’ve been
A colder land, a warmer hand
Held close and then depart
Holding tightly to this broken heart
I only really see the smile
When I have those dreams of worlds
And places that I should have been
No true form, or silhouette, or face to see
Only a warmth of where I’d love to be
Again, feeling those arms wrapped
‘round all of me
But there is that smile
Always greeting, always forgiving
Always hopeful that this isn’t just fleeting
These worlds and places, dreams in my head
The warmth of your touch and gentle lips brushed
Claiming, “it only exists, in poetry”
Always a song at the end:
Please let your poetry live on. Have a good and wonderful day, and I hope you find what you seek and search for in this life – mostly love.
Love you Gracie! Please feel better. I know you can kick this illness. You’ve been through so much already. One day. 🙂 ❤ ❤ ❤