Contemplation, journaling, Life, Me, Native American Women, Writing

Piano Fingers

I was perusing Facebook the other day and watched a video of four people playing the same piano.  They all took turns turning the pages and smiling, eight hands roaming up and down the keys as they pounded out the piece they were playing.  I liked the music and pictured the same piece being played on four different pianos by the same four people.  It would have sounded the same but would not have been as fun to watch.

What I noticed more than everything else I was watching was that they all did that thing piano players do, you know…rocking back and forth to the music as they changed tempo and raised and lowered sound of the keys from soft to loud and back to soft.  All piano players do it…as I have observed.  I am not a player so I can’t say that I do it but I notice things like that.

It started me thinking.  I could start imagining myself sitting at the keyboard of my laptop rocking back and forth as I pounded out my blog or a story or a chapter in a book.  I could imagine writing faster and slower, changing tempo as the thoughts rolled out of my head and to my hands; pounding now and lightly tapping then.  I wondered how that would look to the casual observer.  I wondered if getting so into my writing would cause me to do the same so I sat down and started writing.  My first words were tentative and as the thoughts began to flow my typing got faster and faster and mistakes were backspaced and corrected quickly then the thought would end and everything would slow until the next thought was born.  Two hundred words, three hundred words…five hundred words and so on until the piece was completed.

Funny thing is, I never once swayed forward or backward.  I didn’t lower my head and listen the tapping as I created each sentence.  The speed varied on the thought but that was about it.  My typing as always been a bit like listening to a DI walk across the room…rather loud as each heel strikes the ground as the DI pounds each step into the floor.  Yes, I walk the same way as I type…just a bit intense.  I have had to paint the letters back on the keyboard I use for my tablet twice now.  Still, no swaying to the words the same way that a pianist sways to the music that is being played.

I would stop every now and again to look back over my work. Piano players, I noticed, don’t do that.  When I didn’t like the way a sentence ended or didn’t like the way one thought flowed into the next I took the time to fix it.  Again, piano players don’t get that luxury.  Once the music is sounded it is out there and once a mistake is made the best you can do is try to cover it up with the next note or change the piece altogether and then let everyone think that you meant for it to sound that way.

These are just the things I was thinking today.  All I can say about that is piano players are not typist when they are playing and typist are not piano players when they are typing.  I think that even if I did play the piano I would not sway to they typing like I would sway to the music….

Standard
Contemplation, getting in shape, Life, Me, Native American Women, Writing

Lost and Found Again

I work very hard at knowing myself.  Looking into all the nooks and crannies can be tedious at best and scary most of the time.  But there are times when I let myself get worn down and suddenly I find that I am empty.

It’s not the good empty when you release all your stress and can sleep soundly again.  It’s the empty that you feel right before you realize that depression is the next stage of your digression.  It’s not a comfortable feeling.  I don’t like it.

Then, as it has happened so many times before, the miracle to wake me up and help me focus again.

I was talking to my nephew on the phone last night.  He and I have stressful jobs in social services.  We compare our days and make our jokes and dream of winning the lottery so we can leave our stressful jobs behind.  I confessed that I have not written anything in months, no blogs, no stories, nothing.  Then the magical words, the miracle…”Auntie, you have to recommit”…simple, easy.  He excitedly told me of his newest writing project and let me know how much I would love to meet the elder he is working with and added that he had to do the same thing…recommit.  He sits down every day to write…even if  he only gets in 10 minutes a day.  Our normal hour and a half conversation was cut short as it was getting very late and he still needed to get his writing done.

I was exhausted last night when we spoke so I didn’t write then.  Today I wrote some reports and sent some faxes and made some phone calls.  These things are never done.  There will always be reports to write but this is not the style of writing that I like to do.  So tonight before I go to bed, as tomorrow promises to be as crazy busy as the days of the past couple of months, I will write.   I will be happy that I took the time to sit and let the words flow even if it was just for a little while.

I took the 21 in 21 Challenge this month, to walk 21 miles in 21 days.  A nice way to help rebuild that walking habit.  I wrote at least one report I was behind in each day.  I cleaned a spot in my house that I haven’t cleaned as faithfully as I should.  This ‘recommit’ theme seems more of a command than a suggestion for me.  I’m a life coach, I notice those kinds of patterns.

I am less frustrated with me now.  I am beginning to feel purpose again.  I will probably still only blog a couple of times each month but my stories will start making progress again.  Even as I write tonight, new aspects of the stories coalesce where only fog was present before.  Artwork that I need begins to seem ‘not impossible’.  The emptiness is filling up.

Thanks nephew for saying the things you are supposed to say!

Standard