At The Table In My Sunroom

Monday, April 5, 2010

The music of life. That is the theme if the book I just closed.
There it is, on my "tray." This is a signed copy, a gift from the author whom I know. I love his phrase - music of life. Think about that. I've considered life many ways, but not as music. But it is. Yes. A simple tune, or a symphony, melodic, jazzy, plaintive and timid, or bold and full.
There is music to our actions in the way we treat others and carry out our beliefs. What about the music of holding a baby, play, and of course making love. There is music in the work we do, especially if it is meaningful. There is even music in sorrow.

What music are you creating?

3 comments:

MeriApril 5, 2010 at 2:04 PM
I'm not certain, but I hope it resonates like the playing of a crystal bowl, helping to bring about a new consciousness.
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Sniffles and SmilesApril 10, 2010 at 8:14 PM
What a beautiful analogy!! Yes, music not only speaks to my soul...it reflects and encompasses life! That must be a simply wonderful book!!! So glad you are posting again! I missed you! Love, Janine Xo
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Sniffles and SmilesApril 14, 2010 at 2:58 PM
Hello! Just stopped by to say "hi!" Hope you are having a wonderful week! ~Janine XO
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Thanks for visiting. I love having you at my table with me.

A time has come in my life to reach into another place, to reach into a cobwebbed and stiff part of my brain - the creative part. And then, maybe to take what I find to hold it out to share. You see, I have never been creative (and am still not, you might say); I have experienced the world analytically. I now see there is so much more to the world than that.

This started with an idea to write a photo-journal to myself. In that journal, I would write and take photos of details to CONTEMPLATE the numerous sparkles of life I have around me, and CAPTURE them to last. So here I am, come join me....

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

"The Road Less Travelled" by Robert Frost

Monday, April 5, 2010

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