Reflecting Upon Life, Music, Tears & Random $#!/

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There are days and nights when it behooves us to turn off our devices, remove all noises, all forms of technology from our lives, and actually FEEL our existence. This piece was written during one of those moments when I was actually FEELING my Life. lmr .

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Sometimes
I think.  Sometimes
I think, I think too much.
 
 
Lately I have been thinking about the reality of dying.  Please understand, it's not that I’m actively embracing it, or wrapping  the concept of death around me like a cape full of heavenly stars and constellations. No, my thoughts are more centered upon the intensity of this unpredictable journey and then my feeble attempt at soul-searching a cogent way through it. So many people I have known, loved and expected to be around for the long haul have suddenly departed this life. Whether by circumstance, or by choice, they have taken a quicker exit  to the off-ramp of Mortality's Freeway. It makes me very, very reflective.  It causes me to ask those  profound, essential and more investigative questions, like: 
 
 Why am I still here?  Why am I alive? Why, when some of them never lived to see the age of 30, or 40? 

I have sometimes been accused of being a ‘deep thinker', and thus,  this exercise is probably just an extension of my own curious nature… But I wonder about things, about people and this deeply finite life we’re all living. 

I wonder about those who are so obviously living it too fast, too frivolously or too foul, as if they’ve already made up their minds that this,  the NOW of THIS existence is all there is to life, to living and there is and will be NO afterlife, no place of consequence or judgment for the way they’ve conducted themselves while here. I think of all the hurt, the madness, the destruction and broken hearts left in their wake, and I almost feel sorry for them-- those soul offenders and those spirit-breakers. I’ve the strangest feeling, that, like Stevie Wonder sang all those years ago, and then again at Michael Jackson’s funeral:

They Won’t Go Where I Go.”
 
 
 
Oh. And speaking of music…  here's another thing… and this is kind of crazy so it must be symbolic of something: Lately, for no good reason, I will flashback on a song that I haven’t heard or sang or even thought about since I was a kid, and that song will haunt me slowly for hours on end.   Odd that!


Mental exercise here: Think back to a song you learned in school, or first heard as a kid. Listen to it, and then... sing it, right now, inside your mind. When you HEAR it, is it still in that kid’s voice... that high-pitched, gender-free noise of your youth? I wonder what’s up with that? 

Maybe it’s the sound of our own lives being reviewed, being refreshed, being rehashed, being reflected upon. And that always MEANS something.

These days I’m feeling kinda Blessed because I realize I didn’t have to still be here, still writing, still fighting, still loving in this mad way I tend to love. It’s all a Gift. 

Life is a GIFT, people.... a wonderful, unpredictable, multitudinous gift!  Please don’t be in such a hurry to trade yours in for something better. Don’t waste your time whining and bitching about it when it doesn’t quite fit you the way you think it should. 
 
It’s still a GIFT, damn it!
 
So be grateful and gracious about it, or you just might mess around and piss God off!

*A tear falls to my lap.*

Damn it! What a wimp!  I did not even see or feel that one coming.


But much like life, I’m sure it must mean something.
 
 
                                                                                                                 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lmr
 
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