Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Words Fail

Sometimes, words are insufficient. I've sure spent more than my share of time, and words, looking for a perfect metaphor for those intense events that I want to capture somehow.

And sometimes, I just can't.

For several weeks, I've been creating music every day. Just for a few minutes. Mostly to clear my head, exercise my fingers and brain, and let my heart relax. I've also returned to "making lines on paper," as I once described drawing to my sister.

I'm not particularly skilled at either music or drawing. But sometimes, words fail. Sometimes, my fingers need to do something else for a while.

Especially when a dear friend dies. Many dear people have died this week--not all of them dear to me, but every one dear to someone. Every person who dies is dear to someone, surely.

I stole the title of this post from the title of a meditation posted by a church that unexpectedly lost one of its stalwart members, a woman with a heart as big as the Tucson sky, a woman who never met a stranger she didn't turn into a friend. The full meditation is here.

If sometimes you're frustrated by your own efforts to say what it is you really mean, noodle on the piano or guitar for a few minutes. Pick up a camera and take a picture of what's at your feet. Make some marks on paper with a pencil. Bury your nose in a flower.

Let it be okay that words fail.