Finishing off my coffee this morning, I’m surprisingly at peace with my body and soul right now. My aura? My…existence. Right at this moment…is ok. For now. Sometimes this feeling is the closest I know I’ll ever get to contentment. It’s brief, it won’t last longer than a few minutes I know, but at least I can recognise it when it finally shows it’s face. It’s nice to know and realise sometimes that it is possible to occupy your own space in the world without wishing you didn’t have to, even if it’s only brief. These moments help me know that’s it’s real.
The man who works downstairs has also come in early, but instead of using this time to needlessly surf the web like me, he is practicing the french horn. I didn’t realise until now, but the sound reminds me of being young, and being part of orchestras, surrounded by sound, surrounded by people being in touch with part of them that they wouldn’t rightly be able to describe or put a finger on, but that they know is there. I miss playing the flute and being part of something like that. The perfect balance between structure and lack of structure – structure in the fact that the written music is there to be followed, note for note, line for line, each part fitting in perfectly with each other in harmony and dissonance – yet lack of structure in that for any individual player, that music is and will always be merely a guideline to what will actually be played. For every interpretation of a piece will be different. Placing sixty to a hundred or so musicians together in one place is inevitably going to produce something new, no matter how loyal you remain to the music, or how technically talented the musicians.
In my search for some sort of structure to my life recently it has proved damn near impossible to find a balance, especially when it comes to food, drink, and exercise – some of the most important things in life to keep balanced. In the past I have been to all extremes – being unable to stop and also being hugely restrictive, neither of which are beneficial, and both of which leave me miserable and confused, with racing thoughts and panicked assumptions and misinterpretations of myself and the way I look. This morning for the first time in quite a while, I felt momentarily at peace with myself, and it felt good. It felt ok. Not amazing, not out-of-this-world euphoric, not a moment of bliss that I will forever remember for it’s perfection… but content. Because the extreme of euphoria is not necessarily a good thing, and striving to reach it is only inevitably going to require a counterbalance of misery to even things out a bit. I think I’ve finally gotten to the stage in life where I am able to do without the euphoria, the out-of-body momentary happiness, if it also means I don’t have to experience the misery.
Like the orchestra tuning up for a performance – the mess, unorganised chaos and untuned notes tooting out here and there and everywhere while everybody plays their favourite warm-up piece or scale or line, clashing fantastically in a hall which echoes each note back to all the members a hundred times over, finally coming to a standstill, and starting up a well-rehearsed piece. It will never be the same as it was the last time, maybe even not as intended by the composer because of the non-existent nature of originality, but if paced, and trod carefully, and practiced, something new and beautiful will be created and let out into the world for each musician and audience member to experience.