A moment of clarity

Much of life being spent preparing to record my pieces for my music therapy auditions. Is such a feat achievable in this timeframe? Is Beethoven’s grumpiness exaggerated by history? I hope to find the answer to at least one of these questions.

A few days ago, I had an unexpected moment of clarity, when time seems to stop still – a kairos for any Greek fanatics. I was in the throes of panic trying to engineer a way to get a medical evaluation form filled out for the application, when my old GP had apparently deleted any memory of me, and my subconscious hadn’t quite got round to registering with a more local one in the past two years.

I came home briefly, before running uphill to end the medical calamity. In the kitchen were two things that had arrived for me: a grade four violin book, and a refund for a train ticket. The book was from the period when I first learned, but I’d borrowed my teacher’s at the time, and now I needed it to practice my second instrument.

When I opened the envelopes, they released an almost ethereal sense of balance over me. The refund brought a minor sense of justice, but it was predominantly the music. The mere sight of the cover design almost transported me outside my senses, and gave me pause for thought. Unfortunately I had to charge out of the door thirty seconds later, to avert all my future dreams from being scuppered.

Upon reflection, in that moment, Jesus revealed his presence to me, not just in how I was preparing in my present, but as to how he’d been teaching me in the past, even as I was unaware. The music book was almost acting as a gateway to three places; my past and present, which I had and was experiencing. And now also my future. Not to say the notes were a seal of success, but a reminder that I could continue going forward, to make what is currently unknown, known.

Reboot

For whatever reason, I don’t usually catch colds, but due to an unfortunate combination of circumstances, for the past few days I’ve been a constant vessel of infection and nasal spray. At times like, this only the most basic rules apply. If sleep doesn’t work, drink honey with warm water. Failing that, Lucozade. After that, my eyes are watering, not only with feverish tears, but those of sorrow. I refuse to resort to painkillers.

It was annoying, because until Saturday, I had the highest amount of control over my busyness for a long time. Then a day of work followed by a late-night worship event three everything off course. Partnered with a ready meal for tea, the stage was set for disaster, a so had to get up really early for morning worship at church. This was followed by an outdoor McDonalds lunch. I’m very attached to my gilet, but at six degrees, this was one scenario it was not created for. 

I do wonder about how much emphasis we put on our emotions when we play worship, though. Surely the time sacrifices I make, not just in the present, but all the hours of practice in my past, far outweigh any ecstatic feeling I may or may not feel in the moment?

There have been a few glorious moments, although it is sometimes difficult to discern between a passing of the spirit, and a hot flush. The highest of these was when I purchased a new notebook and diary, at the same time. Such an unprecedented shopping spree. A bright orange journal with “Reboot” written on it spoke to me, as well as an Alice in Wonderland diary.

Decided to write down my general life goals, all of which can be summed up by my desire for universal, megalomaniacal rule. It’s interesting how the designs and format of all my notebooks reflects on what general state my mind is in for that period. In my last one, I was writing down my thoughts in short lines, and turning over the page whenever I moved onto a slightly different topic. While wasting a lot of paper, that helped me achieve some separation between thoughts that merge so easily. This new one has no lines, so endless open spaces for my tyrannical intellect.