Music as metaphor

It speaks to everyone and lets them know that they are not alone in their experiences.


silhouette of a man playing saxophone during sunset
Photo by Victor Freitas on


As I might
Mince words
Stone-faced and cold
Data stacks and tallies counting
Black paint in tall spires

As I could
Pour water
Strong willed and bold
Thunder falls and lightning rages
White paint in feral whorls

As I build
Trace wounds
Gregarious and pulled
Time marches and seconds mounting
Grey paint in stealthy mires

white black and gray floral textile
Photo by Andreea Ch on


photo of white umbrella with blue smoke illustration
Photo by on

From sometime back in September…

This week was soul-sucking, spirit-crushing wicked fast rollercoaster.

I called my sister and cried on the phone yesterday, walked the streets in the dark, taking a trip out to view a suite in what some would term the middle of nowhere.

But at the time, it was kinda of perfect… Surrounded by apparently sane people, on the flat, with groceries just around the corner (open until midnight) and a library — as I found out today, that could have been the hormones talking. Still, that is one very big reason to bring someone along with you house-hunting –two heads are better than one. Because right then, my heart-strings were being pulled. I took that as a good sign I’m not dead inside yet.

I got up the next morning, heard 10 seconds of a story on the radio and started crying again. In my line of work, you always are reminded of the importance of mental health and positive self-talk, so I stared myself down in the mirror and said with wonderful conviction: It will be ok. Everything will be ok.

On the upside, I have a new rain-jacket that works great. Next on the list is waterproof footwear. Tacofino, with Forrest and Rube, was also delicious. And later spilling my guts to my brother who was awake, present and supportive was highly restorative 🙂 And I really, truly would like to visit France.

DailyLines from Diana Gabaldon was great way to start this morning, catching glimpses of book 9, Go Tell the Bees that I am Gone. And popcorn and Netflix is a great way to end it.

Recently, my mom said to me: “I would like to help but not sure how…Life is not so simple today” which means so much for me to hear.



I feel off. Like something is missing. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like everyone is too busy caught up in their own lives to spare a thought for anyone else. Like we all follow the arbitrary daily programming because we’ve been told if we don’t the day is wasted and we are unfit to manage our own affairs.

Despite this heavy skepticism, I would venture to say that I’m equally optimistic. Basically my head is a mess. So is my space.

But I’ve got a full stomach, and all my bills are paid, for which I am very fortunate.

That’s all the pondering I’m prepared to do today.

Do what you can to celebrate in the chaos and marvel at the power of forgiveness, it’s good for the soul 🙂




Off at 5:

I did a bad thing. I stayed up to an ungodly hour — new design! Eeek! Now I’m grinning like a fool ’cause I’m ready to crash. I’ve done laundry, groceries, some reading, writing and been well entertained by way of Youtube, and feasted on a really excellent batch of popcorn. I’m craving Outlander, and looking to bring some more pieces into play today, but will see how that goes. I need some Ichiban first. Maybe yoga later…



Pieces of me and you

The bass thunders through my chest, the wood is warm under my palms and I see the flames reaching for the stars on the other side of the glass.

I laugh on the inside watching the conversation move in circles from friend to mother to friend to father and back, and hearing the approvals come fastest not for the band struggling in the corner but for the choice eclectic mix brought forth by the sound system overhead.

I feel warmed through and so free and so loved as my mother clucks worriedly about the chicks though they are all grown and my father tells her not to worry, drawing our attention to his latest gadget and running in short bursts with hugs at every end as we walk sure-footed under the stars.

I think home for me is not just one place or definition but a combination of everything close to my heart and something I can now carry with me anywhere.