.. seeing God.
❤️.. thought I’d visit..
Thoughts as of early afternoon..
- Music is God’s language, a super-language. He plucks someone’s heartstrings, a composer echoes.. She releases these wordless echoes of her heart & soul for someone to interpret. What I hear amplifies what lies within, what God wants me to know.. or not know..
Background, history, context of a music composition are unimportant to me, let it remain for me a complete unknown, let me impress myself upon it & create anew.. in words unexpected, new meaning unknown even to myself.
- Return to Mass. I found my Holy Mass Notebook this morning.. she was wedged deep inside my deep chair. Miracles happen when I decide to say goodbye to favorite sweaters until next year.. I found my treasure from Mid-February, when Father Jackob gave me my penance to write about the Holy Mass. What sort of strange penance was this? you ask.. I think I’d been in agony over silence, stopping my writing to more clearly hear what God was telling me. My Music had stopped, you see.. I started listening to other melodies, some with lyrics. You know how it is when you’ve an inkling to try something completely new.. you release the old, wondering if you’ve given enough space for the new will take. What I didn’t anticipate was a way of life for me nearly dying.. closing valves, shifting piping, shutting means for flowing Life. Stopping up one habit to try to form another didn’t work.. and it hurt. Yesterday, gushes came, more overflowing.. and my Mass Notebook reappears. Nothing is a coincidence.
— It’s just a cafe’. Finally, legitimacy. I’m a good girl. And as a good girl who wants to be a saint, I’m torn like everyone else (I hope) about the amount of time I spend on the internet & what I share. My problem is I know I go beyond. Opinions count for nothing now, we know this.. but who bears soul? me. I have to care for this little gem, or else.. So, today, at the breakfast table, we were all discussing youngest daughter’s relaying of such-and-such information to friends.. what hints at too much, what is more appropriate. My fun, jovial manner with market clerks was mentioned — you pointed to my shirt about our Florida vacation, Mom, and had me turn around.. TMI!
Parents are meant to embarrass kids. It’s the closest I have to sitting on a lawnchair, watching you playin in the culdesac. I went on about the burden of not having a town center or a cafe’ where I can mingle with our townfolk.
Well, you have Twitter for that.. my husband sweetly responded.
Nothing is a coincidence.
Like gazing at fresh-fallen snow — which I have only seen a handful of times in my life — there are opportunities in life to be still and watch what naturally falls upon a newly blank slate. In my world, where God has absolute control, in the those moments when I can pause from my own active life and over-active imagination & thinking, I read what He was scripted.. a little Indian-Like. It takes practice.. the coolest thing is picking it up again after a long hiatus.
It’s like reading coded messages from a Lover. You can’t help come away with a glow, having basked in that mystical snow..
In Spiritu Tuo, ad gloriam Patris. 5.21.2023. Ascension Sunday.
Academic nodding-blahblah.. I guess a warm-up or rehearsal — Creators are inspired, surely. Their music may reflect a specific mood, thought, or object of their attention. A song may have been created with a specific purpose and meaning in mind, but music makes a life of its own once its released into the world, especially instrumentals that aren’t attached to lyrics or media. Hearing an instrumental randomly in Time will gradually mean something completely unique for the listener. It’s easy to assume this happens with all modes of express — art, poetry, essay, story. A person creates and the audience derives meaning according to each individual. Music, however, is distinct from any other meaning-making medium or mode of expression. Poetry, for example, will use the reader’s cooperation to sometimes draw meaning poets didn’t intend, but since music is wordless, tones layer onto what a listener’s mood & thinking like another myelin sheath stretched over nerves, linking mind, heart, & soul.