It’s taken me over a week to go through all the posts and comments left here over these last years. In that time, I’ve had the opportunity to revisit many of your thoughts– my own thoughts. I’ve remembered how much this space has meant to me– how long I’ve known some of you. It isn’t an easy thing to bring it to a close.
In this week, I’ve decided to hold onto this space– for one never knows what tomorrow holds. I feel whisperings on the edges of my mind that someday I’ll want to return. I’ve removed all but 29 of the posts here. The posts that are left… they were as honest as I’m capable of being. So I left them here for you. Perhaps to read again. Perhaps as a way of saying, in these words, I can be found. To a few, I added author’s note. I felt they needed some explanation as to why they were left on this site. I hope you’ll take the time to flip back through what remains.
The posts that have been removed, haven’t been discarded. I’m sorting, editing, organizing them into something that makes sense. Something that might be worth reading again.
Some of you may disagree with my decision to remove these posts. But I have my reasons. Some of them are much too personal to leave out in the public indefinitely. Some of them, I need Google to forget. Like Perky Breasts Won’t Change Your Life. This post received 10,000 hits in the last year. Some of the Google terms that came across my stat list included, “little girls, perky tits”, “i’ve never had perky breasts”, “mom with perky tits”. I have to tell you– I find some of the things people search for a bit distressing and would rather them not be led to my blog.
Mostly, my friends, in the last years, the music of my life has sung quite the song. Two years ago this month I attended the funeral of a dear and beautiful woman– a funeral I’ve yet to shake off. I’ve had a new baby. I’ve watched a valuable friendship disintegrate under the weight of stubbornness, confusion and misplaced words. My heart is a bit sore and my spirit overcome. I need the notes of these things to settle. I need to let the vibrations of these last few years ring on for a bit in silence. And when that silence falls, I will move on to the next movement of my song.
Today is my birthday. I’m 38. I am in awe of the three little lives in my charge. I’ve lived a blessed life thus far and I’m not quite sure what I want the other half to look like– only that I long for peace and beauty and love… and some measure of hope. While this may not make sense to you all, perhaps it will to some. If I am to feel pain and sorrow, then it won’t be by my own hand. And if I am to love, then it will be without regard to the fall.
I have– quite clearly– come upon a fermata in my life. With that thought, my last thoughts to you will be from a post I made last year…
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The Fermata Matters
August 13, 2010
All week I’ve been meaning to write… to share all the little things that have cropped up. Every time I sit down to do so, my words sound too personal (really)… boring even… as my life this week seems to offer little inspiration to anyone who might be looking on.
I’ll be honest in saying that I value writing to you– blogging– only when I feel that my experiences might somehow resonate with you. Those universal moments that can be turned to apply to all of our lives.
This week my life has seemed… mundane. Very simply mine.
There are single days in my life I could describe to you when I rise early, shower, dress, make a hot and hearty breakfast, teach a piano lesson or two, have coffee with my girlfriends, take the kids out on a mini-field trip, a board game or two in the afternoon, a bit of errand running, dinner on the table for 4 and then our evening activities.
I haven’t had a day like that this week.
I’ll confess that has been my entire week. That is the list of things I’ve managed to accomplish only once within these last 7 days (except the shower part… I have managed at least three of those). The rest of my hours? Sleeping. Or watching TV. And recovering from that nasty virus that knocked me out exactly 9 days ago now. Honestly? I’m pretty proud that the list is as long as it is.
The other thing I’ve done this week that will seem so small to you but has been so momentous to our family has been to get the kids going in football and cheerleading practice. This is a big time first for all of us. Doug played ice hockey, and I sang in the choir in school. Participating in schedules and rigor and excitement of the All-American autumn world of football and cheerleading is brand new to us.
Jackson has taken to football like he was made for it. He’s all boy, and I don’t think I have the vocabulary to describe how proud I am watching him in this world of manliness. Clare, on the other hand, is out of her comfort zone. She’s naturally an intellectual, naturally a solitary soul. Cheerleading is pushing her to her limits, and I am in awe of how she is changing, growing and facing her personal weaknesses.
I suppose this week I’ve been slowed to point of relishing single moments… of focusing in on the details. After all, I’m only experiencing one or two moments a day that do not include my pillows, blankets and the inside of my eyes.
Last night, I was curled up on the couch watching Where the Wild Things Arewith the kids when Jackson laid his head on my very round, pregnant belly. Seven months exactly. I happened to have my phone in my hand, and I snapped a picture of him. His arm laid loosely over me. His fascination at feeling the soft rumblings of his baby brother move made my world seem so sweet and simple.
I posted the picture to my Facebook account and when I got to looking at it, I realized it embodied the lesson I had inadvertently learned this week. A lesson, I think, we can all relate to… a mundane moment, yes. But more. It’s the pause. The space between our words. That frozen microsecond when the rope swings all the way out over the river. In this photo was one of my life’s many fermatas… hold onto this as long as you like, as long you can… until the last strains of it have faded into memory.
Do you know what I teach my music students about fermatas? Fermatas are small musical marks that give the musician permission to hold onto a note as long as he wants to… the note can fade into silence and the silence can sit there… waiting for the musician to throw himself into the next movement of the music. I instill in my students the value of the fermata. Take this moment, pause, let everything you’ve played up until this point sink in… and only when you are ready… only when the music that has preceded this moment has settled into your skin… only then should you move on.
