It was one of those nights without power supply. Worn out from the bustle of the day, I got into bed pretty early - as is usual for me on such quiet nights - ready to head right for dreamland, but, eager as I was to fall asleep, I found myself reminiscing helplessly about the
past – the past year particularly. About the crazy rollercoaster ride it had been. The dreadful and depressing lows. The sprinkles of
unprecedented highs scattered about here and there that I was super thankful for. And then the bouts of utter numbness and deafening silence that conveniently filled the voids in between. This reminiscence was fast becoming a habit, some sort of bedtime ritual, if you will. But there was something else to ponder that night that I hadn't really thought about in quite a bit.
Have you ever had those moments when you knew you were surrounded by a multitude of really great friends who genuinely cared about and wanted to be there for you, but you still felt pretty lonely because just a couple of these genuinely well-meaning people could really understand if you wanted to talk? I’ve had
them - for as long as I can remember – and, believe you me, they suck. So what do you do when those few people who you really can pour out your soul to aren't very available when you need that sort of human interaction?
If you’re anything like me, or maybe have had
experiences remotely similar to mine, you’d understand how much of a treasure music can be at times like these. Why? Because there’ll always be the perfect song for each unique
circumstance. Always. You just need to find it.
Sometimes it’s the lyrics. Just when you're wondering why life has decided to throw such a nasty curve ball your way, you could hear a few divinely inspired words strung together so beautifully in a song you've probably known for quite some time, and you find that you're almost instantly encouraged and reinvigorated by what you've just listened to. You consequently can assure and convince yourself that there’s definitely light
at the end of that dark tunnel... maybe because those lyrics help you realise that someone
else somewhere has walked the seemingly hopeless path you seem to have somehow found yourself on, and come out unscathed.
Other times, the lyrics just seem to graciously afford
you the words of gratitude your heart has desperately searched and yearned for. Gratitude to
God for the gift of your life and other associated blessings. Gratitude
to your loved ones for consistently being there and never hanging you out to dry. Sheer gratitude.
But there still are the those times when it’s really not about the lyrics. Those times when - especially if you're very music-inclined - you don't need to hear any words to understand and appreciate the true beauty of good music. You listen to how a potporri of instruments come together to magically create a fusion of sounds
that is just surreal, and that, in some inexplicable way, brings back memories and inspires epiphanies.
And then you can’t but thank God for the likes of composers extraordinaire like Yanni (I only recently found out his full name - Giánnis Chrysomállis) the Jazz Master or the late James
Horner who composed the soundtrack for the brilliant American biographical drama film, A Beautiful Mind.
But if you’re anything like me, you’d
realise that even though listening to great music can lift the spirit just like that, there’s still a pressing need to express yourself. And a lot of us have our different special means of self expression. Making drawings and paintings. Composing our own music pieces. For me, that special means is writing. Just writing. I've found that there's simple something about writing that leaves me feeling better and lighter, and I know I'm not the only one.
I’ve loved writing for as long
as I can remember, which was the very reason I ever considered starting a personal blog back in 2013. I read my very first blog post a few days ago and couldn't help but smile. I smiled because of the memories it brought back, but even more so because it made me realise the mighty long way I've come since then. God is good. For me, writing and having people read what I had written proved to be such a means of honest and genuine self-expression, the
perfect outlet for all the ideas and thoughts that traversed my perpetually pondering mind. I thought of it not just as an art, or a skill, but as a chance to be true to and honest with myself.
Here's something I figured out some time ago. Time and time again, I’ve had ideas for
fictional articles – really brilliant ideas – but every single time I put my
pen to paper and tried to bring these ideas to life, somewhere along the line, I
just couldn't go further. I’m guessing that’s a thing for many writers. But for
me, it wasn’t just the case of experiencing the infamous writer’s block. Well maybe a little, if I’m being perfectly honest. But more than anything
else, it was because I really needed to write the truth - my truth - if I wanted to feel fulfilled. I genuinely wonder if any other writers out there can relate.
I had to take a hiatus at some point because with all the things battling for my attention, ranging from academic work to other obligations I had – details of which I hope to share with you in the near future – it was becoming progressively difficult to write from the heart. But somehow, I read that first blog post of mine and the promise I made to keep writing no matter the odds, and the realisation that the events of the past year – the
good, the bad, and the outright insane – have given me fresh inspiration to
start writing again.
I've come to realise how very healthy and therapeutic expressive writing can be, but that's not the only reason I'm writing. I'm also eager to share my thoughts, my fears, my convictions, my aspirations, my joys and sorrows, highs and lows, and the ever-so-silent moments in between with the world. But even more than that, there are memories I want to look back on years from now when I read
these things I write today. Memories I can share with my children, and their
children, and - in fact - anyone else who’s interested in having a sneak peek into
the mind of a mental twenty-something year old way back in the late 20’s. I imagine that's what this period of time will be called then.
I can’t say for sure that I know how this is going to pan out, or that I have all the intricate details figured
out. Because, quite frankly, I don’t. But I certainly hope to put up something as
frequently and as regularly as possible - I'll aim for weekly for now - and that as many people who might
resonate with the things I write about get to read my articles. All I know right now is that I need to
write. Not necessarily with fancy words or bedazzling figures of speech, but with all the truth I can muster from my heart.
So, in the spirit of keeping promises, my name’s Michael, and I earnestly hope you stick
around to see where this goes.
Blessings!
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