Getting Past It

"Missing" never really goes away, does it- we just learn to ignore it.

I heard once that hearts never really heal. They just grow scar tissue over open wounds so that we can live with ourselves again. And I think my scar tissue had grown so thick that I forgot a wound lay beneath it. But then the knife fell and opened the gash again, and "missing" bled out into my life. 

I also read once, about how love for those around us can change us. It forges something new out of what we used to be. I thought in the time apart, I had changed enough that the parts of me where "missing" resided had all grown out. But they were still there, well-hidden.

I heard once that souls have no concept of time, which is why missing occurs so easily. The soul doesn't know that they will be back, or how long they have been gone, only that they are not here. And so it mourns their presence, cries out in their absence, until they return.

Coming back to writing this, weeks later, I find my calluses have again thickened, though my heart is still sore. Maybe missing is just a part of who I am. Perhaps it's a part of all of us- after all, life is always changing and growing into something new. And as wonderful as it is, I wish that I got to choose which parts changed and which stayed the same.

Some things I don't miss. Some I regret. But others make my soul ache in a way nothing else can because they are gone and will never be here again, at least not in the same way. These things may not be necessary. They may have had to disappear so I could grow. Yet still I miss them being here.

Who do you miss? What do you wish hadn't ever changed?

Notes

What is music to me?

Music is connection. Can't you see it? The cords of headphones tangled together, the stretching lines of the staff, all twisted and twirling around us. It binds us together tighter than any other bond. To make, to listen, to music with another, is a new trust, a deeper bond. Music is favorite songs listened to and understood by someone else. Laying stretched out with the volume up, trying to hear more than just sound. Music is what the soul is made of. It is no coincidence that our favorite songs feel like home, or that when someone likes the same music as us, we immediately become friends. It is no coincidence that listening to someone's music can help you understand them. Music is an expression of the beauty in everything. In pain and sorrow and joy, in funny times and serious. Music is fault and fascination. Music is connection. Pulling all these ideas together, pulling all these people together. Music makes the human soul dance, and erupt in color and light. Music helps us to feel understood and loved. Music is like a hug, a hand to hold, a string of hope tethering us to this world when all else is lost. I need music like I need to eat, but more. Because in addition to nourishing and expanding my soul, it is a comfort, a warmth for my soul, and an empathetic word when no one else is near. Music is necessary to the survival of what we are.

We are human, and we are music.

Unrequited

We are all lost
We are all wandering
In our souls, we tread forgotten ground
The sky is great, the sand is dark
We stumble, we try, we trudge ever onward
The only color from our souls themselves

Sometimes from far away it seems
We see a soul that is familiar
In an unexplainable way
And we wave, we shout, we holler
But they do not turn
They simply start to walk away
So we follow, because we must know
If their soul is the one we're looking for

And we feel like needy children, forever shouting 

"Love me, love me!"

But we cannot stop, because we must know

But no matter how fast we run, how high we jump

It's never enough to catch up
They are always too far to hear us or to see
But if they could, would they think we were familiar
As they are to us?

And eventually we give up

They are too far away
Or perhaps they have met another soul
And you can see that there is no room for you there
Or perhaps you meet them and understand
They cannot be who you thought they were
And perhaps they never were

The first is worst, of course
You forever carry the memory of their shining soul
And wonder at the lost potential
The second is sad
For watching their attention be bestowed on another
After all the effort you made
That is sadness
The third is heartbreak
Feeling lied to and deceived
When really you fooled yourself

We souls walk this desolate ground alone
Searching for someone to share the loneliness with

Words and Souls

What is it that I love about reading what someone else has written? What is it that makes it one of my favorite things to do?

I believe it's for many of the same reasons as why I love to read in general. I'm sure you've seen that quote about when you fall in love with a character in a book, you're falling in love with their soul. You can't actually see them, but through the words on the page, you understand their mind, their heart, their wants. Yuri begin to know what they'll do, what they'll choose, or who they'll love. Their souls become as familiar to you as your own in that short time. It's fascinating how characters on a page can mean so much to us, and that language, something so simple and seemingly above such creative concerns, could spell the characters out for us. How can words make someone seem just as real as any other human being? It is a wondrous thing.

We are all made of words. All kinds of them, eternal varieties, strung together in phrases, occasionally standing alone. They constantly shift and change around the core of who we are. Words are the essence of us. In my mind, I picture a human silhouette, beating red heart st the core, composed of words. And what this words are makes up who they are. It's all about what words we choose to keep, and which we throw away. That's why I love to read what other people have written in the energy of their heart. It truly is as if the writer has handed me a piece of their soul. Getting to know someone this way feels strange to me, but also special. You can't always see or touch them as you read, but within your mind, you began to see the shape of their soul. And human souls are beautiful things, full of depth and darkness, light and poetry.

It is the greatest trust, I think, to show someone what you have written. Not school papers, but something you wrote because you could, because the words clamored against your skull and wouldn't leave you alone until you let them out and set them on a page. To show someone that is truly meaningful. This is why I blog. I want to trust the world, and I want them to know what my words are. I have even learned what some of my own words are by writing! These are the words that make up my soul. And to read others' blogs or writing or anything is so precious to me, because what we write reveals so much.

Writing is a miracle, for in it we discover what it means to be human. We discover what it means to be ourselves, and who others truly are in their hearts.

The human soul is made of words. Share them wisely, my friends.

Candid

Candid photos are the best
They reveal the soul behind the face
They capture when your eyes light up
There nothing that can replace
Your smile when nobody is watching
The expression in your eyes
Your manner when you're talking
Not your photograph-disguise
Fake smiles on bright faces
And it's oh so rare
That a posed-for photo
Can capture what's really there

Music and My Life

Today, I got the chance to do something I haven't had a chance to do for a long time: go outside.

It was (mostly) warm, the sun was shining, and I had two of my friends with me. We sat by a tree, one of my friends with her guitar, and we sang. We just sang every song we could think of. We did also talk (that's what girls do) but it was mostly singing, with some basic harmonies. It was a wonderful experience.

While we were singing, I had a revelation. I realized how much music is a part of my life. My soul is embedded, ensconced, irrevocably bound within the music (I actually basically live in the choir room of my school). It is a part of me, interwoven with my identity.

Music is amazing. It contains emotion and poetry, love and heartbreak. It communicates to every stage of human existence, every pain and joy. For me, this is especially true with choral music. I adore the harmonies, the interlacing voices, and most especially the feeling of singing one, of being a part of something bigger. I found a family through music. The words also speak to me many times. There are songs for every occasion and every emotion. Music is a part of everything, if you listen closely.