Resurrection

I slip slowly into a maze of words.

I realize suddenly that my entire being is an art form of expression and wonder, curiosity, myth, and reality curving together and shaking with rapture at the intersections and commonalities woven between the rhythm.

I am lost to the magic spirally beyond it all.

Yet I mourn the fact that I’ve let myself hide away from the music pounding within my bones. I’ve hidden from the very life coursing from my veins trying to survive. The hiding precipitated the slow death of me.

I’ve been a dead man walking. Driven by the wind, I’ve clung and grasped at the air without realizing it’s my very breath that sucked the song from my lungs.

At the point where my spirit disconnected from my being, I was buried in a tomb of my own making.

Here lies my body. Here, my fingers softly pound keys, revealing my heart, my resolve, and I breathe again.

These words, my resurrection.

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Killing Bad Music

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There are so many words in the world trapped in ice, (the icy chill of the frozen heart…not to quote Disney or anything). The past changes us like a bad song trapped in the brain – an earworm playing the tired melody so long it takes over songs of grace. In tragedy, I forget to clear it. I just keep adding new dissident chords to the same melody and unconsciously sing along. But I’m growing tired of auto-repeat and ready to start again.

 I’ll pick up my guitar and write a new progression. A “C” to open my eyes to truth, a 2minor to build the tension of something to come, the “F” chord to forget the failures as I rise to find the “G”, the savior God who lifts me higher away from the noise of the diminished chords that used to haunt with their oddities. It’s time to find a new tune for the foundation of my heart.

 New life begins the moment we make a choice to let it spring forth from the ashes. Maybe the old remains to make us who we are but we can choose where we land. The decision is ours to move forward or wallow.

 Sure, yesterday may repeat itself in subtle ways as circumstance we can’t control creeps near attempting to draw us back in to the rhythm of the madness, but we are the hands that ultimately control the strings. Will we choose to create something new or continue to settle for the old?

Why remain stuck in the old when each string holds within it, the potential for more…the promise of greatness undiscovered. Lord, give me your ears and let me hear the songs you sing over me. Help me to keep pressing forward guided by the beauty promised in your love.

I’m ready for freedom. I’m ready to embrace what you have for me. I know change is hard but nothing is worse than standing still. I promise to embrace new life as long as you keep singing…A pen in the hand of a ready writer. Move with skill and dance as I follow.