I Always Wished I Could Sing


I do make music.


From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Music is an art form whose medium is sound. Common elements of music are pitch (which governs melody and harmony), rhythm (and its associated concepts tempo, meter, and articulation), dynamics, and the sonic qualities of timbre and texture. The word derives from Greek μουσική (mousike), “(art) of the Muses.”

And I, I am a muse. 

I flow into a man’s, or sometimes a woman’s life, and I inspire them to become more than they were.  College, introspection, reflection on their life’s direction, their relationship, sex. 

Of my 5 long term relationships, four went back to school, one resumed journeyman training.  Two graduated with bachelor’s degree in a field they had been dreaming of, one changed his life from hard sciences into the arts, one went on to graduate school.  Even of the men I knew briefly, one reconsidered making his marriage work, one rethought his damaging relationship and went back home to tend his farm and family, one reclaimed his sexuality, one got back at his girlfriend and received a son.  There are others for whom I may never know what gift was given other than the gift I received. 

I play hearts and minds and fates as another might play harp or flute or voice.  In return, I allow myself to be played.  I transform misery, even though I am repeatedly burned by the energies coursing through me.  I accepted this fate, the one where I would only give, never receive happiness.  Where I would dispense love and accept what small gifts I would receive in return. 

‘It’s the little things in life,’ I always say.  ‘I look for that golden lining,” is my current phrase to live by.  ‘I prefer hills to mountains,’ I have always noted.  ‘I like bittersweet endings in my stories,’ is how I create. 

I haven’t chosen terrorists to transform, nor wife beaters, nor alcoholics, nor other forms of mankind’s self hatred that they take out on others in their tumultuous dance of self destruction.  Drug abusers, emotional abusers, misery feeders, lost souls are as dangerous as I can stand.  Anything more and my heart bleeds so badly that I cannot function.  I am weak, and leave it to other, hardier souls than mine to take on those challenges.  Then again, alcoholism, beatings, those are not the things with which I grew up, that I am familiar, trained towards acceptance. 

I wonder how this song sounds in the vibrational overworlds. 

Maybe that is the dizzy hissing in my ears.


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