The Sound of Missing You

Well, let's see. I was at the gym this morning, jogging a little on the treadmill, lost in Ameerah's The Sound of Missing You, and suddenly I noticed I was asking myself, What is missing from my life? It's clear in the song that Ameerah is missing the person she has been with for awhile. She can dance with anyone she wants, but when you're missing someone you've grown close to, being beautiful and having oodles of choices doesn't make you less lonely.

Listen to the song. You'll hear what she's missing: hearing her partner's voice; what they had when they were together; what they would still have if they'd worked things out. Now all she hears is the sound of missing someone she loves.

When I was listening this morning I realized the missing you sound can come from many quarters: a failed relationship; a job you used to love without realizing it; a friend you lost contact with because you didn't want to make the effort to stay in touch; a pet that wandered off; a dream that died because you were too frightened to pursue it.

So beware! That missing you sound can slip up from the strangest places –– and knock you off your feet!

Bulletproof

I wish I had thick skin. Didn’t worry about what people thought or said about me. Could feel like I’m free to be the me I am.

Like Sia I could say:

"I’m criticized, but all your bullets ricochet. You shoot me down, but I get up. I’m bulletproof. I am titanium."

As it is, unlike Sia, I am not titanium. I’m more like a latex balloon. Not as square as a box, but still confined to a standard shape and size. It’s time to slip this skin and break free! Be who I want to be. But that can be dangerous. I’ve reconnected with an old friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said:

"Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong. There are always difficulties arising which tempt you to believe that your critics are right. To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires courage."

Thanks, Sia –– and Ralph. Doggone it. I am summoning the courage to be myself in a world that is constantly trying to make me something else.

I’m bulletproof.

The Open Road

Hit the road, Jill.


That long, lonesome highway.
When I was younger, some authority figures in my life warned, "It's my way or the highway." Now I wonder why I didn't take them up on it. The highway, that is.

I'm much older and less wiser now, but some days I still get the urge to bounce. It's like the road takes on life and asks, "You coming?" My sister says it's hard to create and nurture relationships on the fly, and she's right. But maybe everyone needs to hit the asphalt every now and then, regardless of their relationships. Just get your motor running and tear out on the highway. It's always an option.

But, then, maybe there's another way. Maybe you can do it without leaving the comfort of your special place, without spending a penny on gas. Just steal away for a little "me time," count your blessings, even if your life blows, and expect to discover something new in whatever you're immersed in right now.

If you're not careful, you may find yourself skirting along a spaceless highway at limit-breaking speeds heading for new destinations.

The Year the Sun Died

A page on my calendar says it's spring, but not here.

Not now.
Not since the sun died.

It's cold sitting in this man-made pit.

My two friends and I

are confined inside,

emerging every now and then to gather

frozen meat

and dead wood.

The outside is our meat locker: our storage area for animals that surrender to the absence.

Right now I guess we're solid.

How long I don't know. We've felt no wind and seen no rain for months, but … I miss the moon most of all.