“i have laughed
more than daffodils
and cried more than June.”
― Sanober Khan
Sometimes it only takes one word for a bittersweet rush of memories to flood in.
I’ve been listening to Edie (Ciao Baby) on repeat all morning. I get obsessed with a song from time to time. A friend has a cat named Edie. I hear her name and instantly this song comes to mind.
Along with the song comes a flood of memories…teen to young adult memories. Driving in the summer with friends to the beach. The sun glittering off the water blinding me. The smell of the woodlands. The evanescent sense of embracing a love.
Memories of concerts loud, booming, throbbing with bodies moving in time. Closeness as that first kiss is on the verge of becoming true.
Memories of driving too fast. The rush of adrenaline from tipping it a little too far. The carefree roaming through a fairground, friends surrounding me.
Memories of lost ones, their voices still an echo in my mind. The feeling of the wind rushing past my waist-length hair out a car window. The spinning of the world, watching the stars in a swirl of light and bliss (usually alcohol driven at the time).
Memories of laughter, pleasure, naivety, innocence, pure unadulterated joy. The awfulness of hurt washed away in a flood of being.
Memories of times so wistful they have a dream-like iridescence about them.
Where has that young woman gone? Quiet rebellion, dancing with every song, moving amongst the throng of bodies; the music so loud our ears would ring and we did not care. We hugged, we laughed, we danced, we drank too much, we were.
Where has that sense of endless being gone? The tears fall freely, the sense of longing and loss are bitter pills to swallow. I’ve dreamt of recapturing that essence, but how?
“The dogs lay at your feet, Edie
Oh, we caressed your cheek
Oh, stars wrapped in your hair
Oh, life without a care
Ciao baby”
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.” ― Jalaluddin Rumi
Sometimes, the silence is too loud.
Sometimes, the silence is a clatter in my mind. It deafens my spirit.
Sometimes, the silence is too much and the noise of life can’t be heard through the din of silence.
I’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the last few weeks. Some of my own doing, well, most really. I would like to think I control my emotional responses to that which occurs to me, but I know that thanks to my MS, that isn’t always the case.
I usually keep silent to what is my inner turmoil, allowing my husband brief glimpses of what is eating me inside out. My children sometimes see the aftermath – lack of patience, inability to focus on a conversation. Moodiness.
I try to hide it, but I’m not very good at hiding.
Sometimes it ekes out when I least expect it. At the start of a conversation, I just stand there with unfelt tears falling. It’s only when they cross the threshold of my cheeks do I realize I’ve started crying.
Mostly, I try to silence that part of it, burry deep inside and live in the now. But it weighs me down, anchors me into my seat until I feel as a statue – made of stone, incapable of movement.
The silence envelops me in those movements. The lack of movement stiffening my joints, dragging my body further and further down, into my chair that is. Breathing these days feels heavy, tight.
Then the music starts. My body wants to move, to live. My spirit shakes off the shackles of the silence.
The sounds of life filter in around me. They wrap around my frame in the warmth of sound. A blanket covering my body in a will to be.
On Sunday evening I had the immense pleasure of watching Loreena McKennitt perform. Along side her were guitarist (etc) Brian Hughes and cellist (etc) Caroline Lavelle. It was mesmerizing. McKennitt’s voice and stories were captivating, but I have to say that Caroline Lavelle’s obvious passion for playing really blew me away.
Watching the trio gave me a full serving of questioning my life. Is that odd? Music is my food for the soul. It nourishes me in ways nothing else can. All my life I have dreamt of learning various instruments, singing, learning various languages to sing in.
Instead I sit here in my office, dredging over old reports, wondering why I am neither digging in the dirt and dealing with antiquities or singing and playing for my life. Those are my passions. I know that. Music and archaeology. Yet, neither has a huge roll in my life anymore.
I’m almost 42 years old. What have I done with my life? What am I teaching my children? When will I finally chase my dreams and make them real?
Why the hashtag? Because tomorrow my family and I are attending the Serena Ryder Bay of Fundy Quietest Concert Ever. I won six tickets. I kid you not.
Why is it the quietest concert ever? Check it out http://cbcrcblog.com/music/quietest-concert-ever/?lang=en – we’ll be wearing headsets by Sennheiser to listen to the show, it’s on the ocean floor during low tide…it’s going to be amazing.
I WILL be posting selfies of the crew and myself at the show on instagram and twitter #quietestconcerever (hence the title). I will blog about it Sunday or Monday…but not tomorrow…nope, I’ll be too busy drinking up the sun and loving the tunes. If you want to check them out, come find me – nbgwen on both.
