Soul Searching Song

I've always been very aware of my musical limitations. As a child I was ignorant of the technicalities, but with the past few years discovering my musicianship has taught me some hard truths about myself.

It's another language - and I was never very good at second languages.

I've observed multilingual speakers speaking their native tongue(s), and conversed with them (in English, of course), and one thing that is fairly obvious is that they never truly have to translate between the languages that they speak. Their brains are equally proficient in thinking in whichever languages they are fluent. There is little tendency to "switch gears" because there is only a 'switch'. (Granted, there is a change in rhythm, syntax, etc. but I'm talking about fluent speakers here.)

Even with the five years I spent learning French in school; it never truly "caught on", in that whenever I would speak, write, or listen in French, I would have to translate, into English, back-and-forth in real time in my head in order to understand. That's one hell of a processing bottleneck, I'll tell you - and this computer ain't got no upgrades available. If I were to spend the rest of my life in France or Quebec or Senegal, perhaps that would change, but what are the odds of that?
I even learned to read and write Arabic; but I could have read someone's death sentence in Arabic, and never known what it meant in English.

This applies equally well in the realm of music. Musicians are artists of a special caliber; speaking with fingers, hands, mouths, and feet (depending on the instrument), in a language more abstract than it has any right to be. The virtuosos in the field speak this language as clearly as though it were the only one in existence, and there's no gears to switch per se. Their mind and the music are as one; a unity I fear I may never attain.

The idea applies to almost everything: an engineer, formulating a building plan from a proposal; a computer scientist troubleshooting code; a lawyer, finding loopholes in rules and regulations; etc. But these are all examples of experience, and I have none to speak of except in music, and even so, not nearly enough.

When someone does something that they enjoy, in many ways the idea of a "thought process" becomes irrelevant, because the 'process' vanishes, only to be replaced by a free flow of ideas directly to output. This is most clearly visible in the worlds of visual and auditory art - at least, that's the way I've seen it. This unity between mind and world is so compelling, so beautiful - and to think, the only way to achieve it is to release control of yourself ... to your self.
I don't know how to release control; I don't truly know what I want, what I need, or what I love. I fear my inner self, because I don't know if he has an anchor to keep him stable in the maelstrom of the mind.

Life's Bloody Lemons

You know what sucks?

I know some of the most beautiful women in the world.

And I've traveled the world, so it's rather safe to say that I know what I'm talking about.

Ignorance is bliss, or it would be if it were an option.

Learning To Fly

The last time I had somewhat serious feelings for someone (or believed I did, anyway), it took me well over a year to overcome my attachment. And she was nowhere near as free-spirited as the Breathing Stone ... and, until recently, I had never been subject to the mystery of human contact in a truly meaningful way.

That last time, too, I could only in desperation push myself to reveal my feelings - shortly before I departed for a new life. That was close to five years ago.

And here I am, doing it to myself again.

In a way, it's her own fault that my emotions have developed in such a fashion ... and yet, I don't think I'd have it any other way. I've learned - or so I would hope - to count my blessings.

She could possibly find new friends; I'm not that important. I'm going to have to find a new life, and not having her as a direct part of it is going to be one hell of a thorn on the rose that my future might be.