. . . my practice connects me to the visceral nature of playing an instrument, the raw thrumming vibration that courses through your body when you put your hands on the keys.
. . . my life is ripe and full and luscious . . . Like aging, this opportunity to mature and learn is a gift . . .
It no longer matters what my life would have been like with my parents' involvement. My "mistakes", in their eyes, comprised my life choices, and I'm where and who I am now because of those choices.
I became comfortable with deleting "friends" who showed themselves unwilling to self examine, to evaluate their beliefs in the face of contradictory evidence. As my wise friend Deb says, "bless and release."
When I turned 40, I started picking up on the things people in my age-group were saying about the aging process. There was one post, I forget the exact wording, about if you find yourself on the floor, you start looking for all the other things to do while you're down there; clean up furballs,... Continue Reading →