Time is limited. Demands on it are not. Distractions abound, weariness interferes, sleepiness settles down over my brain in a heavy blanket that slows thought to a crawl. I sit at the computer and beat my way through it as best I can. Sometimes I do well. Sometimes I don’t.
In 1998 I began writing music. Well, writing seriously. Up till that point it was all scribbles and fragments. 1998 was when the Spirit first got in my head and shaped all the chaos into something real. For the next eight years or so, that was what I did—I wrote liturgical music. (Almost all of it very bad.) It was my work; fiction was playtime. But in 2006 I started working with prose, and for the last 2 ½ years, that has been my focus.
I love writing, and the Spirit moves there too. But I do get a niggling bothersome spot in the back of my mind sometimes, when I realize how long it’s been since I wrote a song. Where did the song inspirations go? Why did they quit? I console myself: well, God’s inspiring you differently now, that’s all. And I am writing music, just focusing on the instrumental music instead
But really, it’s the momentum. The creative muscle that is exercised is the one that churns out new ideas. When you have more than one creative muscle, and one is allowed to atrophy…well, you get the idea.
Yesterday morning I woke up at 4:30 and couldn’t get back to sleep. By 5:15 I was out the door for my run/walk. It was chilly and nearly dead silent outside, which is rare around here, a mile from I-70. As I jogged down the hill I asked God to help me quiet my brain so I could enjoy it. When my brain is shouting, the quiet might as well not even exist. And on the heels of that prayer came another: God, send me a song. Please? Just a liturgical song. I miss writing songs.
I finished my run, sat on the deck and watched the wind play in the darkened sycamore grove, came inside to start the daily routine. All morning the kids drove me crazy. Sick and tired after the long weekend in Illinois, crabby because Mommy was dragging them all over town, grocery shopping, picking up contact, talking to the swim school about scheduling…
I dropped them off at the home of some friends who had agreed to watch them while I went to the perinatal center for my 1st trimester screening ultrasound. The only thing I brought into the waiting room was my music notebook. I had an idea where to start, but found myself caught by an old 14th century prayer that I had printed, thinking that I would try to craft it into a song. The first attempt was cheesy and I knew it, but for once the inner critic didn’t shut me down. I simply tried again. I was so-so about the second attempt. The ultrasound tech called me in about four minutes later and that was the end of my writing time, but I promised that I would sit at the piano at naptime and see what could be made of it.
By the time I walked out of the ultrasound, three more pieces of the song puzzle had made their debut on the radio in my head. And when I did get down to the piano, I was astonished to find that my so-so refrain was actually pretty good.
For the past several months I have been gripey and negative. I wanted to blame it all on supplemental progesterone (shots in the butt, tablets at night), but I knew that some portion of my mood change would require attitude adjustment. I’m several days off progesterone now, and still struggling. The lightness I felt after that piano session…after writing an entire song in an hour and a half (that never happens)…the euphoria, the energy, the sincere, joyful thanks sent Heavenward—all of it reminded me that I haven’t been thankful in a long time. I’m so grateful to feel it again. Spiritual growth has been rather stagnant. Please God, I’m finally catching my momentum again.
Kathleen M. Basi 