Words hold so much meaning, more than actions in most cases. My most prized possessions, things I hold most dear isn’t jewelry, it’s not money, it’s not a life insurance policy or the deed to my house. No, tucked away for safe keeping in a fire-proof safe are letters my father wrote me by hand while I was away at college. He wasn’t fond of the internet and thought a good well written letter said so much more than any e-mail could. I was only two cities away, but he wrote like I was at camp, faithfully.
I hold those letters as close to me as I could hold him. When I feel lost I open one, there is always advice to be gleaned from one of my dad’s letters, his words somehow uplift me and bring me back around to what’s important in this life: being a good person always, helping others, and being okay with myself.
Music, music never fails to speak to me. I don’t remember watching much television when I was a kid but I do remember always having music on. My dad was a mechanic and he always kept a radio on in the garage and I’d sit and watch him work. At home the television was never on, always a radio on an album playing while I did chores or my homework.
I have a couple of really great friends who are musicians and I couldn’t respect them more if I tried. The creative process, the emotional process of bringing a song to life is harrowing. To be able to make someone feel emotion through your song, your words is truly a gift. You have 3-5 minutes to make someone understand a story and love it. Music has saved my life. I associate music with important events in my life, I can almost play music to my life like a soundtrack.
Music can take you to another place and make you think about where you want to go and who you want to be. It’s a beautiful thing. I don’t want to live in a world without music.
Writing, I write obviously. My dad got me in to writing. I had a horrifying incident as a child and to help get me past some night terrors he would have me write everything down. As a result I began creating stories, nice stories to help me sleep. I love the way words flow from mind to fingers, fingers to medium (paper or computer). The process is a purge. It’s emotional, it’s cathartic. It’s a release for me. I don’t write to be heard. I write for me, I write so that I remember, so that I am relevant to me, accountable to me.
I’ve heard the expression “just hit me, it would feel better than the words you say”. I suppose this is true. Especially lately. People can be so unkind. All it takes is a second or two to think about the consequences of your words, it could change someone’s life.