Besides the 12 sit ups I did in bed at two thirty am last night because I couldn’t get to sleep, I did zilch for 26th.
27th however, woulda blowed the hairs off your ankles.
61 minutes of go, go and more go.
I felt like throwing up after it was all done and did.
I was the dancer of the early eve as I kept on going until my heart felt like it was a rock that was going to shoot out of my chesticle like a firework on drugs.
I ran around with son, chasing a mini football. Did a really sweet handstand on top of the hill in the front yard.
I did the craziest tree activity I have in the past few years, ( err.. or ever ) hanging around like a monkey who’d eaten too much cake. Pulling myself up with just my arms, then just my legs, moving sideways with nothing other then my stomach muscles doing the work.
After that my calves were aching and sooted with tree bark.
Then I came in and sat.
Then wrote this.
And afterwards, you can guess I’ll be sitting some more.
My music player had died in the night so I made a nice bed of softness and plugged it’s heart in.
While I waited for her to wake up, I did what only motivated got to do it now person woulda, and got out my computer and my mile long headphone string.
I danced and moved and zib zabbed in a diameter space of 6 feet.
I was deeply out of breath without the breaks of jogging down the driveway.
Music players heart had started beating at a good percentage so I got that on my head and got the steel wagon behind my arms and my son on top of it and jogged on the wet grass. Up hill and down hill. Then proceeded to kick around a kid soccer ball with him.
46 minutes of a higher intensity today. Yes.
I had plugged and pressed play and prilled up my April day.
You go to a five stages,three day camping festival event and you come back feeling like you were on a euphoric emotional high two of the three days and you understand that it’s been 5 years since you’ve been around that many English speaking people at once and that it is your first time you have ever even experienced bands and people and closeness the way that you did.
You see the tents come down and the piles of garbage bags and the dust from the cars driving out.
You arrive home and you play a song from the CD you bought of one of the bands you saw-one of the members of that band you went to public school with and whose mother taught you in grade 6.
And you cry.
It’s not a drop of the system. It’s not happy slid into a hole of sad. It’s an overwhelming mixture of memories and time and realization. That you just experienced all that. And the photos run your heart wild and before you fully understand,you’re craving to do more of things like this.
You can have lived on the other side of the world for years, visited multiple countries and drove through 90% of the states in America; but when your travel bug has gone mute, it is mere evidence that something will take it’s place.
Maybe you won’t figure what’s supposed to fill it up right away. But something will.
It might click when you’re dancing in a great furious next to a girl that you met 12 hours ago, or when you’re in a group of 7, having lost the three people you knew. It might click when you get home and your heart yearns to do it all over again.
To start an addiction of something new, because of a space that held something old.
Oh, that is a marvelous life particle to have obtained!
I’ve been listening to slow jazz the past few days and I really like where it takes me .
It’s in elevators,airport lounges, in the background when you are sitting in a plane with 300 others, it’s under the tables of fancy restaurants, on a tv channel with the monthly events in the area scrolling down,
It has a way of making life feel important.
An unrust-like quality to it.
It makes the steam from my coffee and the dance in the candle flame,seem even more approriate.
It’s in my ears as I walk the broken sidewalks, as I step onto streets, as I sit on concrete benches.
It twists everything into a lemon lime sugar flavour. It’s bitter sweet.
For a few different reasons.
I’ve went a long time without it and I see what it does to me. It amplifies every step I take, it makes every strand of hair that blows away from me have purpose. It gives a story to each person I see. It makes me feel.
Any of these feelings can be felt without the power of music. But the intensity is elevated.
Miss rushes in severe enough to make me want to stop the songs.
But I don’t.
If music is listened to a lot, once we take it out of our system, do we feel less towards life?
Does the recognition of how good it was to feel at such a level make us believe we will never be able to feel that way in life without music?
Do we begin to rely on it to make us feel?
Something special happens in every single day of our lives.
For some, it may be that first conscious breath they take every time they wake up, for some it may be the fact they run 18 miles in an hour and twenty minutes.
It can deal with the same goal or involve different people or ideas. It can be anything you want it to be.
It is all based on perspective.
Today my special was hearing a piano.
It echoed throughout the soi’s* in the village.
So that I could hear it down almost every single one.
It was like it had no home- that it was everywhere in the air.
And I breathed in deeply and the music notes went right to my toes.
Five years ago I probably wouldn’t have thought this would be a special.
Pianos are rare in Thailand due to the humidity. Other than in the music store I have only seen one. In a hotel.
I think it’s important to find your special within the day. It is not just something that separates that day from the next, it also brings in valuable appreciation.
Find your daily special for happier days and ultimately, a better life.