Unless otherwise attributed, all content, text or image, on this site is © TaunaLen 2005-2011.
All rights reserved. Republication or redistribution is prohibited without prior written consent.

Friday, August 22, 2008

The Taking of Breath

Deep, resonating bass tones fill the air, vibrating from strings of steel, and flowing, pouring out to fill my ears, my body. Harmony echoes from the finest piano---palpable, moving, and so very sensual. And then, there is the silence. There is a between the notes space that is filled with an intake of air, steady, strong, a near desperate sound, as if the very atmosphere fuels the music spilling from the strings. Breath, drawn as a parched throat would gulp life-giving water from the fountain of youth.

And in that gasp between the notes, that layer of music outside the music, therein lies the passion of the cellist. There is the very heartbeat, the life of one who feels and breathes, who loses himself between the musical notes. The emotion, the passion, the music that is air alone, reverberates within a musician who knows what it is to surrender to the flood and become, himself, part of the deluge.

And the music of breath moves me. It draws my shoulder to my ear, and tilts my head back on my neck. It tickles its way along my spine, as though drawn from my own lungs as I listen and experience the art that is this music, the musician and his gift.

----------

This post is featured in a brand new collaborative e zine titled
'InTheInkJournal'. I'm very excited about this new venture and flattered to have been chosen as part of the writing team. Check out the journal, and subscribe, for a fresh new look at what it means to write, read, and follow your muse. Let me know what you think!

T.L.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

A Love Letter

8/16/08



My Sarah,


I began a journey with you, twenty-one years and some days ago, and I started with a letter. You have that letter today, packed away in a box---and I wish I had kept writing, marking every significant event, for that was my plan. However, motherhood proved a very time consuming effort, and the plan changed.


I woke this morning, knowing you would be asleep on the couch, with your bags and boxes packed, and wondered in which one I would find that faded, blue journal. I decided not to search. Nevertheless, I wanted to share with you some thoughts from my heart on this cool August morning.


This day is one of excitement and anticipation for you. You step fully into the world, ready to face life on your own terms. I am proud of you. There was a moment long ago, my love, when they placed you in my arms, and I fell into your eyes. You looked to me like such a serious, little soul, so very tiny and dependent on me for everything. At the time, I was only nineteen, and had no idea how to be a mother. You and Amber managed to teach me, and I kept learning as time went on.


I have spent two decades watching you grow, your heart fairly bursting with love and passion. I am amazed. I do not know how you turned out to be so incredibly smart, talented, giving, confident and beautiful. This in itself is proof of a Creator who fills our lives with his love and mercy. The same wonder is echoed, repeated in the lives of your siblings. You each defy my logic, and astonish me.


I know today marks a turning point, a crossroads. So many things between us will remain the same, but some things will be forever changed; and that is as it should be. Life is about changes. You are headed down a road that I’ve only ever seen through eyes as young as yours. Yet, your Grandma has made before, both your voyage, and mine, and she is watching as well. Life does repeat itself.


I want you to know that I believe in you. I am so grateful to have been chosen to be your mother. I cannot explain how my life was transformed when you came along, and I became ‘Mommy’. Someday, you will understand what I mean.


Today, I stand looking over your shoulder, at the life you have ahead, and I am speechless. I have taken my hopes and dreams for you, and tucked them safely away in the pockets of my heart, where they belong. I have come to realize that this is your life, and your dreams and plans are your own. I cannot wait to see what you make of your world, my darling.


You come from a long line of strength and love, Sarah. You may not carry the name of the women who came before you, as a son would carry the name of his fathers, but you carry us, our love and character is woven into the fabric of your being. We are watching, and you, my daughter, will bear us forward, into your own daughters and sons. What an incredible thought.


So, this morning, as the sun comes up, and the day begins to stir, I would give you a map and a compass, along with a tiny jeweled box that carries a piece of my heart. Find your path, Sarah, and know that whatever direction you choose, your compass and map will be true. I know you will find your way forward, and moreover, always remember the way home.


I love you, madly.



~Mommy

There was an error in this gadget

Friends who Follow

FeedBurner FeedCount

Friends I Follow

  • Deadlock Victim - Rerun the transaction. Another process claims the same resources. You have been chosen as the deadlock victim. It’s nothing personal. The optimized queuing ...
    20 hours ago
  • I See - I see a woman Desperate to keep faith to an Absent man of war. I see a lone man Rejected by a woman Long lost long ago. I see a couple Sitting in a dark co...
    1 day ago
  • Together by Ree - As a mom’s children get older and bigger and more mature and grown up and start leaving the nest, she starts to live for the times when everyone is togethe...
    1 week ago
  • The Big Boo Cast, Episode 74 - Well, we start off recounting some difficult times we’ve experienced in excruciatingly hot conditions. Our passion about this topic will surprise approxima...
    3 weeks ago
  • Every Flower Is The Rose - Lovers jump into bed without thinking. That's the only way it can be done. A cup that was spilling over still wanted more. We all talk to ourselves. Thos...
    3 years ago
  • The Search - Through the darkness wandering, silent footfalls upon the ground, guided by lantern glow and the ambient light of a thousand-thousand stars piercing t...
    3 years ago
  • Moving - With writing novels, editing for friends, and writing blogs, I am moving my new poetry posts to: NEW SCRIBBLES
    4 years ago
  • What Are Blurbs? Do I Need Them For My Book? - Wow! So now that my debut full-length collection of poetry, *Solving the World's Problems*, has found a home with Press 53, I imagine more than a few of my...
    4 years ago
  • Why Write? - Writing and the possibility of connection in an isolated, isolating world. Writing as part of what keeps us human, and alive.
    4 years ago
  • Apu, the chai walla... - This poem is for Apu, this ever-smiling 10-year old kid who sells chai on Platform no. 3 and 4 of the Pune railway station. “Chai Garam ! Chai Garam!” ...
    6 years ago
  • City Poem - I walk a city Where my steps leave no trace, A city whose nights are birds Picking on the breadcrumbs of memory. I walk by trees anointed With smells heirs ...
    6 years ago
  • Happy Birthday - Independence Day 2008 Berkeley, Ca Forgive my dark mood and my languid determination. The process is skipping All fingers point To a funnel with Pompous exe...
    7 years ago
Unless otherwise attributed, all content, text or image, on this site is © TaunaLen 2005-2009.
All rights reserved. Republication or redistribution is prohibited without prior written consent.

  © Blogger templates Romantico by Ourblogtemplates.com 2008

Back to TOP