Friday, July 12, 2019

Preaching To A Choir

So my late night velocity wave. Well, not that late. But when you get up at 5 every day ... Anyway. You know the rules: no heavy edit. Pretty much just a backspace. In so many ways life is very difficult for me. My health. Its decline. My parents. Their decline. It sometimes makes me very melancholy and often morose. I’d guess I’d admit my prevalent emotion is dread. I dread the sounds of sickness. I dread the cries of pain. I dread being summoned. I dread too much silence. I spend my days with a sour stomach and a persistent jitter. It’s okay. It’s life. It’s death. It’s human.

The last time I felt such sustained stress was in high school. Being bullied is ballbreaking. It’s soul smashing. I endured for a trinity of reasons. 1. My faith. Im Roman Catholic. Suicide was not an option. 2. My family. At home I was in a cocoon of comfort. 3. The arts. Particularly music. Choir made me a member of a group. A belonging. An us.

Tonight while i worked I listened to an album. Yes. Remember those? I listened to an entire album. ”Trio.” Linda Ronstadt. Emmylou Harris. Dolly Parton. (You can’t listen to an entire song when your ears are tuned to aid.) On ”Trio” the harmonies are exquisite.I listened and I became so saddened. I don’t sing anymore. I haven’t sang an entire song with another human being in almost 40 years. I miss it. I miss the communion. I miss the emotional release. I miss the effort to blend. To join. To add. Hell, we don’t even attempt unity in our relationships, society, or government. I miss music.

So. How do I endure such sustained stress? 1. My faith. 2. My family. Now i comfort. Now i cocoon. 3. I write. Usually little meaningless missives I post here. But writing is a masturbatory art. It’s singular. The writer exposes the wounds and describes the death but the autopsy is behind closed doors. It’s not communal.

I miss singing. I miss a choir. I miss the blend.

Goodnight.

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