Dedicated to the one and only and very loved Manny Carreon

Right now I want to sing. I want to to let every tone roll and reverberate just as it seems my soul is doing. There's something so pure about singing. To me, it is something sacred and essential. I sing when I am happy. I sing when I am hurting. I sing when I need to let go. I sing when I want to hold on. And yet, sometimes I refuse to sing. I refuse to sing so that reality will seem less... real. I suppose that happens with the things that I am passionate about. When it comes to writing, I will refuse to write because it creates a solid connection with my emotions. Everything is that much more vivid. But this isn't about writing. This is about singing. 

Have you ever had something you do that makes you feel more alive? You get caught in your thoughts about who knows what and then you get that itch. A passing thought wanders in and for some reason, you want to do that something? And sometimes, you think, "Okay", and you amuse the passing, itching thought and you start to do your special something. You connect. It is a part of you. Your soul rejoices as the humoring becomes something more personal and self-satisfying. And once you've fed your soul enough you can finally stop that "special something" and your day has gotten that much better. How could it not?

Singing does that for me. Music does that for me. Dancing does that for me. Of course writing does that for me! Beauty in its many extensive forms does that for me. So why do I want to sing right now? What made that itching little thought start pawing at me right now as I was trying to fall asleep? I think today it is because my soul is yearning for it. It's happy enough. I mean, how could it not be? I'm in Boston! It's beautiful! There's so much to see and do and admire. But my soul still needs comfort and reassurance. It wants to hear that, no matter what, I will fulfill what I know I will. Love will find me when the time is right. I'm sorry, my dear soul, I know I left it in Guatemala. I know you miss it. I know you wonder if you could "pull a movie move" and fly back and embrace it with open arms! It would be a very worthy and very noble sacrifice. But it isn't what you should do. Please forgive me for not indulging you and trust me when I say you're headed to something incredible. Just wait. I'd sing you a lullaby right now if I could. Cradle you in my arms and hold you close. Stare at you adoringly and stroke your forehead as I tell you not to worry. 

That's the beauty of life. It never goes according to plan. Sometimes plans can cut ourselves short or limit what we can truly accomplish. And, sometimes, when plans don't go according to plan, it's easy to worry or fear what we cannot fathom as a change in our lives. I know I've shut my eyes and huddled in a corner many a time due to just that. But I have decided that that precise moment is when more of those itching, pawing, even clawing thoughts can tug as towards something extraordinary. All we have to do is close our eyes and trust. Or... if we're brave enough, keep our eyes open and see how cleverly neat all the pieces fall in front of us, scramble and scatter once, maybe twice, or even thrice again, and then create an even more beautiful pattern for us to admire. 

Perhaps tomorrow I will sing. A twinge of pain and a jolt of peace might intermingle as I do. And that's ok. I will be brave. I will remember. I want the memories no matter what lies ahead. Memories are also parts of the pattern that ends up forming and, the way I see it, they only make the patterned path shine more. I can pick up any of those glistening memories and admire them for a while as I walk. And then, I can gently toss whatever memory that may be back onto the path and keep walking. I think that's fair. Just as long as I keep walking...

I love this image, I found it on camiclay.blogspot.com one and deem it more than worth sharing. Good Night!

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