He sat at the piano for the full length of bars and rested in his composition so that the audience could experience the amazing music in our surroundings. His composition was a form of meditation. Have you ever sat still, closed your eyes, and listened?

Try it. I dare you. I tried it and found myself feeling restless. I couldn’t feel comfortable with the silence within me. It seemed like it had no direction. I felt guilty sitting in silence. My mind drifted to many places.

Kitchen places, bedroom places, cleaning places, laundry places; then I pushed those thoughts away and went to my creative place. It seemed empty at first. A piece of paper. A pencil. A figure. Movement. It comes in puffs and spurts. As long as I linger, more comes. Just like the composition of John Cage, I start to hear the creativity of me and that around me. I feel encouraged. I can do it.

The clouds moved in causing the sky to look milky-gray. Then I hear a rumble. I run outside looked to the east, hoped for a bright flame burning through the clouds, but there was nothing. I heard the rumble, louder than before and looked to the northwest part of the sky. Nothing, but a deeper rumble. I look at my weather map app, reds, yellows, greens, but they are more than two hours away. I think about my teen son who has epilepsy. His VNS will be sending more charges because of the increased electricity in the air. Thunderstorms do that to him.

I return inside, thinking how the weather keeps us guessing. I pour myself a feel-good, wake-me-up-kind-of-coffee.

Then I sit down to write. Sometimes it comes easy. Sometimes it doesn’t come at all. Everything is a work in progress.

I’ve started reading Be, Awake, Create by Rebekah Younger, MFA. I was put in an awesome state of encouragement. She started her book with a story about John Cage. I never knew who John Cage was because he was influential before I was born. The story goes like this: He created a controversial work in 1952 called 4’33”, which was written as bars of rest. When he played it for the first time at Woodstock, the crowd became angry because they didn’t hear the composition. The clever man made the boldest statement about silence.

He sat at the piano for the full length of bars and rested in his composition so that the audience could experience the amazing music in our surroundings. His composition was a form of meditation. Have you ever sat still, closed your eyes, and listened?

Try it. I dare you. I tried it and found myself feeling restless. I couldn’t feel comfortable with the silence within me. It seemed like it had no direction. I felt guilty sitting in silence. My mind drifted to many places.

Kitchen places, bedroom places, cleaning places, laundry places; then I pushed those thoughts away and went to my creative place. It seemed empty at first. A piece of paper. A pencil. A figure. Movement. It comes in puffs and spurts. As long as I linger, more comes. Just like the composition of John Cage, I start to hear the creativity of me and that around me. I feel encouraged. I can do it. It didn’t rain.