Stuck in a Time of Change...Now What?

It’s ironic, to be stuck in a sticking point and not know what to do about it. It’s just like you wandered out of the woods only to get stuck in the mud and tar that’s clogging your airways and you can’t seem to be able to breathe anymore.

You’d better sing then, came the echo lingering in my head from a conversation a time or two ago. It was a good line, and I wanted to, so then, what was wrong? Why was I stuck in a change when all I wanted to do was join in and play along? Was I broken? Defective? Had I done something wrong?

Was I listening to the wrong song?

You’re overthinking it, the echo reverberated, somewhat bemused, somehow still patient. I knew it was true, but if you don’t overthink a thought, perhaps you can’t get under it? That’s how most people think…isn’t it?

In English, to inspire is to breathe, and we know this. It’s structurally sound, etymologically proven. We know this is why we need to focus on our breath- not only because it keeps us alive, but because that’s what science and experience tell us!
I’m so tired of what science and experience have to say? Do they really not think we couldn’t have figured this out in our own way?

I threw the thought to the echo, but it departed on impact because, to be inspired is to trust that each breath connects you with the exact. The ancestors once breathed in this soil and the divine will as well, but inspiration is when a truth or an idea has been imparted to you, and you get to take it all in and decide what to do.
Let it expire if it has to.

Perhaps in a change, a sticking point occurs when our external faith cannot match our internal trust or when we think the process should be simple, but really, it’s too much You can scream, you can cry, you can numb all you want, but if you’re sticking point is keeping you stuck, you’ll purge yourself into purgatory trying to feel your way to the thought. It can’t be done.

Now what?

Now, you just roll in the mud and let it all go.

That thought wasn’t mine and it wasn’t an echo. It was an idea that had been thrown at me and to me, and it knew me, but couldn’t get through to me, because until language is inspired, a thought is a thought. It is inanimate, it doesn’t take off. But this time though, it settled in the mud that was hanging from my bones and just did what mud does, you can’t rush it along. Inspiration has to be anchored before you can breathe authentically, but, just singing is about so much more than that too. A dis-ability didn’t mean dis-ease or un-well, it just meant that right now, you have to learn your way back to the source that moistens the dirt and digging deep for that source is sometimes the only way you can go; mud was a reminder that the earth was alive. A change doesn’t have to be graceful, or pretty, or wise. Change is just chemistry and chemistry flows.