Note: to drummers, when you’re playing and you feel locked in to the groove, playing not only on beat, but feeling that you are in the beat, and can manipulate it with fills and rolls of all speeds, and still land back on that beat without throwing the song off rhythm.
It’s a curious sensation, knowing that I can talk about myself, my life, with absolute clarity.
I take it for granted now.
Which is also its own kind of weird.
I’m able to talk about my life matter-of-factly.
I don’t talk about it to get pity. I don’t speak about it with frustration or rage. I’m not trying to make myself look like a saint.
I am grounded by the knowledge that I have no desire to please or impress others anymore.
My life is.
My life was.
Facts. Not emotion. Not sentiment. No color commentary.
The suffering I went through was mine. I made my choices. And I faced the consequences of those choices, good or ill.
And I don’t really know if it’s due to the three years of taking my medication for my adult ADHD and Major Depression finally taking effect, or if it’s the strength I gained from taking care of my father – or some combination of both.
But I’m in the moment.
I’m in the now.
I’m present, current. There’s no “what ifs” or “I should’ves.” There’s also no “one day I’ll” or “someday,” either.
And maybe, some of you might consider that a bad thing, and, depending on your circumstance, you may be right.
But I ride the waves.
I feather the wind.
For the first time in my life, I focus on what’s in front of me, and addressing it, paying attention to it. As a result, it’s incredibly satisfying dealing with things as they come when they come, instead of ignoring it or trying to rewrite the narrative.
What a strange pleasure it is, and a metaphorical irony, playing drums for most of my life, and at forty-three, finally being in the pocket.
Rainy days always put me in a thoughtful mood – more so than usual.
Rain drops falling steadily like tears …
Not the tears of a broken heart, but healing tears, as you make up after a fight with your lover.
Not tears of hopelessness, but tears of relief, after the test results come back negative.
Rain brings growth. Rain cleanses. Once the rain stops, the sun, eventually, emerges, and shines.
Rain is a mug of good, hot coffee. Tea, mellow, thoughtful and sweet – like your favorite friend.
Rain is reading good books curled up on the couch.
Rain is listening to music while you stare out at the graygreen world.
Buried under blankets, hugging a pile of pillows, watching your favorite movies.
Rain offers us a break from mad dashing to and fro from the self-imposed prisons we call life, responsibilities, obligations.
Rain says, take a break, I got this. You’ll just be in my way.
Rain forces us to be together, to talk about what’s been bothering us, to tell “Remember when” stories, makes us laugh.
Rain reminds us gently of Mother Nature’s power, gently puts us back in our place, keeps our ever-growing selfish sense of self-importance in check.
Rain forces us to pause and be thoughtful. To take stock of our lives, to slow down, to breathe.
The smell of rainy days, to me, are like the smell of fall and winter – it’s the scent of being in love, the scent of being alive, the scent of living.
How many great poems were written, because of rainy days?
How many great songs composed?
How many great novels were inspired by rainy days just like this?
How many loves, friendships, solidified, during rainy days?
Rainy days are magic.
I came downstairs this morning.
I said good morning to my mother.
It’s an ugly day outside, she said.
I looked out the kitchen window to our backyard. The rain had turned our Laredo dry grass into a verdant and lush paradise, an enchanted forest.
I was alive, so was my mom – so were my brother and his partner.
We had safety and shelter from the storm.
We have survived so much.
Death, mental illness, physical illness, arguments, fights, spats, conflicts, disagreements – survived them all, and helped heal afterwards. A glacier’s pace often, but forward motion is still moving forward. And we’ve grown closer because of it.
My depression has mellowed with my medication.
So much life.
I stared out, lulled by the repetition of steady falling raindrops.
It’s so beautiful, I said.
What I’m listening to now:
On the Warm Side by Mimicking Birds.