Somedays, I sit and wonder what to write. Other days, the idea insists that it be written. It is unscheduled, unplanned and interrupts the day’s agenda.
I hear the words from yesterday and can’t help believing, they are a powerful representation of life. They were innocently said, with unintended consequences, yet a dance in my mind began when recalled…
My husband was complaining that he didn’t have his earbuds, so I retorted, “I can be your music if you let me sing.” It sounded humorous, and without another thought, the moment passed. But the words called for a repeat performance, in my mind and heart. The depth of meaning in those passing words pined for acknowledgment.
In the second act, later that night, I was excited to share with my son that I had come up with a new quote. His exact response was, “That’s great, but that’s already a quote.” In disbelief, I immediately questioned, “I don’t think so, who said it?”. He shot back, “Dr. Seuss…I know it because I love all his quotes!” Now, here is when I defended my originality with my fullest armor on, “No way, he did not!” and I was victorious. He backed down and laughed. He admitted he was just making it up. Now, the paradox emerges.
My disillusion was in believing my artistic creation was entirely new. Words have existed so much longer than any of us. Words create a timeless imprint in this world. They may not create a new world, but perhaps a new window.
The view from each window is dramatically altered by the perspective of each viewer. My heart should have been singing because my son immediately found warmth and love in my words, reminding him of words by Dr. Seuss, one of the greatest word masters ever. Yet, my inflated ego chose to focus on protecting my personal, yet insignificant discovery of a word puzzle. For all I knew, it was written somewhere already.
But right now, for me, these simple words are alive, capturing moments like an episodic drama series, one leading to another, and keeping me guessing the entire time. The next episode begins on queue.
As I visit with my social group, I realize we often bring the story back to ourselves in an attempt to connect to one another. For example, how many times do we say, “Yeh, that happened to me when…” Perhaps, unlike it appears, self-centered words are not entirely centered on self, but rather are an attempt to bring us together on the same page. It could be said, our similar experiences bind our humanness; but our unique perspectives create the ultimate connection.
Alternatively, have you ever found yourself trying to persuade someone to see an issue from your perspective when they are not interested? Have you ever felt that someone wants to change who you are, to become more like them? Have you ever stopped someone from singing, because they didn’t do it well, or you didn’t know the song?
No matter who we are or what insecurities plague us, we all desire to be someone’s music and be heard. This can only happen when we truly connect through our differences.
Thanks for letting me sing!
-Erika K Rothwell
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