Music Inspired Haiku: #2

Oh the angst of life.
A pull and push all at once.
Like a life-long dance.

Every piece falls.
Once they land at the bottom,
you see reality.

The pain and anger.
Pieces thrown everywhere.
Enough of this life!

Then the tables turn.
You notice the truth of it.
Even more rage comes.

Like a fight inside,
you push them and get pushed.
Endless loop. A trap.

Music Inspired Haiku: #1

Searching... they all were...
Trying to find the lost piece.
Looking through each hall.

None knew what it was,
this thing they wanted to find.
But, gone? That they knew.

Perplexed were all.
Lost in thought, looking all around.
So lost they didn't see...

See the enemy.
Too much to hold. Much at stake.
Looking all around.

Wandering and lost,
they find one small, hidden door.
Each push with relief.

They didn't find it...
Not what they were looking for...
What they needed? Yes.

They ran with their joy,
sprinting along searched halls.
They had much to show.

Multiple stories.
Stories of pain, death, and life.
Each one holding truth.

Pain, the thing most fought.
Death, sought in more ways than one.
Life? Hard, but holds worth.

After much of them,
all three have been conquered.
Each feat fought bravely.

New Things

One of my best friends is working on getting a music degree, so music is something we talk about quite often. Her music and my music are usually incredibly different, and I wanted to get a closer look at what she appreciated about hers so much. My friend, my sister, and I went to two concerts last night. Both were piano and I had basically no idea what was going on. I couldn’t tell you who played, or what they were playing, but I can tell you that it was an amazing experience.

I was exhausted all day (my youth group had a lock-in the night before), so really listening to the music wasn’t that hard. I easily spaced out, and a couple minutes into the first piece I couldn’t stop writing haiku after haiku. For some reason the music reminded me of Alice in Wonderland and the confusion that she experienced while she was there.

I don’t think what I wrote really makes any sense. It only seems like a fragment of a story, but it really helped me realize how powerful music can be. Everything I wrote was based off the feelings I had and the things that that music reminded me of. After yesterday, I really did learn how to appreciate music. I learned how to “see” things, and imagine things, and turn simple vibrations into something that means so much to so many people. Let’s just say, last night was a total success. I’ll be posting revised versions of the haiku, in order by piece, for the next five days or so.

Different Angles

Yesterday I wrote about my mistakes, but last night I remembered something that made it all worth it. My best friend and I were waiting in the back for our queue to go up and play for the second time. I don’t know how she felt, but I didn’t feel confident about singing again. Once I started, though, there was nothing that could’ve stopped me. I looked around at the audience and saw a really good friend of mine smiling, and I think that was when I realized that everything we worked so hard for payed off.

When it was over I was jumping for joy (I had a TON of adrenaline built up so I literally did jump around), and when we walked into the foyer there was a group ladies cheering for us. After having such a stressful morning it felt so amazing to feel that achievement. To be able to say, “we did it.”

Now, I’ve performed for people before. Not a ton, but I have. I have never had a performance that felt better than that one, and I don’t think I would’ve if it went as “perfectly” as I’d hoped. What I’m trying to say is that hurt can be good. If I hadn’t messed up a little the first time the second time wouldn’t have felt so rewarding. It would’ve just felt like any other performance. Now I’m always going to remember walking into the foyer and hearing those ladies cheer for us, and being able to hug my best friend and say, “we did it.”

The Joys of Mistakes

Not many people may know this, but I’m a musician. I’ve been learning guitar for two years or so, ukulele for a couple months, and I’ve been singing my entire life. My best friend and I decided to do an offertory for our church (an offertory is some sort of musical performance while the offering plates are passed around), and I was crazy nervous. I was shaking, it was early in the morning, so my throat was already a little off, and I let the stress of something new get to me. I was a little rocky during the song, and totally cut out at one part, and I was devastated. I was so disappointed because it seemed like I could’ve done better. I wanted to crawl into a hole and cry. I didn’t like getting compliments afterwards because I was so focused on how “terrible” I did. (The second offertory did go MUCH better, by the way, and despite what I thought other people enjoyed both of them.)

Throughout the day I’ve had a lot of time to think about the morning. I was listening to the recording of our performance and saw something I made a while ago.

This picture was one of my first attempts at lettering with paint, and (to me) there are some clear mistakes. But something I’ve learned with my art is that mistakes are going to happen. What makes them “Happy accidents”, as Bob Ross would call them, is running with them and seeing what happens next. As I was sitting there, listening and looking, I realized that that applies to music as well.

I’ve been told time and time again that mistakes are inevitable, but I’ve never really been able to see them as “joy”. Now, I think I can. It’s still going to hurt, and I get the feeling this won’t be the last time I’m disappointed, but mistakes are all a part of the process.

“If there were no mistakes that means no one ever tried something new.”– Sophia DeRosia

There. I have no idea if I created a quote the right way or not, but I’m trying something new, so humor me.

Serenity

Have you ever had a really bad day, stepped outside, and instantly felt better? Have you ever wondered why? I think it’s because of the associations with memories. The things in the environment I’m in transport me someplace. When the breeze hits me just right, and I close my eyes, it feels like I’m back on the porch of the missionary house in Brazil. Or, on a spring morning, when the dew is fresh and the sun is warm, I go back to my grandparents farm and remember playing with my cousins. I love being transported because it reminds me that there is good in the world, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

I feel different things in different circumstances. I mentioned above that it’s good, but sometimes it’s not as good as I’d like. I’m sure everyone deals with that. Suddenly feeling different because of reminders. I think the point of this post, though, is to remind people not to shut out those reminders just because they hurt. Sometimes when we see the hard reminders, it’s tempting to stop looking for the good ones. But don’t. Keep an eye out for the little things that make you smile. The things that make you feel warm inside.

I know life seems dark sometimes, but it’s not so bad when you learn how to find the light. So, my challenge for everyone is to look for the good. Go find what makes you happy. I’d love to hear about some of it when you find it.

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The Golden Hour

There’s a specific time of day that almost always makes me stop in my tracks and just… look. I can’t help but take in every angle. Every change in lighting. Every inch of reflection (especially from snow). This time of day is called, the golden hour. It’s in the morning when the sun is coming up, and in the evening when it’s going down. The reason I love it so much is because it drowns absolutely everything in either gold, or contrasting shadow. It can take the smallest thing and make it a work of art. Especially the things that I don’t expect. This morning I saw some dead plants. But, the closer I looked, I realized that the dew on these plants was reflecting the water, and the light made almost like a glow.

 

Why?

I see differently.
I see all the beauty in things.
Things not expected.

I see what they don’t.
Every color, every shape.
Light among the dark.

Some don’t see the point.
They trudge along, ignoring.
But what if they stop?

Try different too?
Join in all the crazy?
Method to madness.

I run all around,
absorbing all that I can.
Smelling and looking.

Doing all these things,
I probably look silly.
But that’s the fun part.

I like different.
It makes people ask questions.
Makes them see new things.

The title is why,
but I still don’t have a clue.
Not that there’ll be one.

It’s just my nature.
I see the beauty that’s there.
The beauty within.

Colors

Yesterday my family went on a road trip. I was kind of tired, so I decided to look out my window for a while. You know what I saw? A cold, grey, April day. It did not help lift my already tired spirits. I kept staring, and eventually realized that the clouds aren’t just grey. Sometimes they’re lavender, or light periwinkle. Sometimes they’re their own collection of some of my favorite colors and I almost missed it because I was so blinded by the grey.

It was just after one when we left for our trip, so by the time we were headed back the sun was setting. You know what else I saw that day? Lines of gold, and orange, and yellow shining off of the lavender and periwinkle clouds. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a sky that beautiful, and I almost missed it because it all seemed “grey”.

Everything has something more hidden inside. A different color, a different shape. Something. I absolutely love it. “Why?“, you may ask? Because it means that whatever there is in life that seems bad has an upside. I’m determined to try and always find the upside.