The Deleted Pizza

It was the second time in a week that pizza delivery graced my residence. As a rule, pizza is very hard on the digestive system. However, after two performances on a Saturday, there was no way that I was going to cook. I inhaled the pizza and was instantly full. The next morning found me with another slice of pizza. Perhaps that is when my body told me what I could do with myself.
As I lay in bed this evening contemplating the detox that my body needed, the pizza scene replayed itself in my mind. When the ding of the promotional email from Dominoes interrupted my thoughts, I immediately deleted myself from the subscription list. Salad and sushi rounded out my day as I put my guidance to good use.

Healing: Another Experience

As I sat there in the quiet solace of the funeral home, it dawned on me that it was my first time at a funeral since performing at my father’s funeral. Would I be okay? How would I react being in this setting?
Before long, my hands began to play and the sounds filled the entire place. The funeral director came and smiled at me. He closed the doors so as not to allow anyone in before the appropriate time; however, a head or two would peep in. It was not long before the doors were open and people filed in sporadically.
The tears began to fall, and the muffled sounds of crying were heard. This is to be expected at a funeral which is why boxes of tissues are readily available. I found myself in the dynamics of my music, and performed many of the same songs that I performed for my father. As the crying continued, more people trickled in and embraced each other. Some people approached the casket for a final look while others heavily sank into the pews. The thought of my mother falling asleep to my music crossed my mind as I began the next selection. This was a healing process in plain view.
My hour came to a close, and my eyes fell on the Soprano. She was set to sing a capella. After discovering that the Ave Maria was included on the program, we performed it together. When we were finished, we smiled at each other and agreed that we had to do a concert together. The last time that I saw her was at my father’s funeral where she made the crowd swoon with her rendition of the Lord’s Prayer. Here we were again for yet another congregation of mourners with our classical repertoire in hand.
After leaving the funeral home, the problem of lunch arose. There was enough time for me to grab a smoothie and pack the music for the wedding that was awaiting me in a few hours. It was said that my day sounded emotionally draining. Perhaps, but in truth, I feel very prepared for such situations. It is at this point in my life when I realize how much healing is a part of my job.

A Poignant Letter

There I was sitting in the middle of my home. My mother crossed my mind as she does a lot these days in her grief. Since the passing of my father, her life has changed drastically. After almost 40years together, the love of her life has gone to the land of the ancestors. A moment of inspiration struck me. This is the letter that I texted her:

My sadness is not for my father dear mother. He walks amongst the clouds in the land of heaven. He is free from the troubles of the world and enjoys the company of his long lineage. My sadness is now for you. Your soulmate has transitioned from this life and you are left behind to mourn the tremendous loss. Know that the burden is not yours alone. Know that God will never forsake you which you have seen firsthand since God put his angels in motion. You shall rise from this process a victorious woman. Daddy shall await your ascension. Until then beloved mother, your entire life lays ahead of you. As you embrace this new chapter, I await at your feet to encourage and cheer you on. It is your time to shine. Do not fret. Mommy, God is always on your side. Cry if you must, but when the dawn comes, smile. Life is beautiful. Your faith alone shall set you free.

Hunger

Lately, I have really been throwing my hat in the ring. Upon my suggestion, I facilitated my first workshop for primary teachers in the area of music at a local elementary school. There was a local womens’ festival that was taking applications for various talents including music. Well, I decided what the hell let me give it a shot; Guess who will be performing as a part of that festival? Yesterday, my artistic statement was created for my amazing brochures that are being developed as we speak. Mission statements, philosophy of education, resume synopsis…..artistic statement has now been added to the list.
When I step out of my house these days, my face is in full make up with a banging outfit. Banging you say? Super banging I respond. My mind settled on the notion that something amazing is about to happen to me, and I have to be ready to accept my new role in life. Why an outstanding interview may fall into my lap as I advocate on behalf of music education. My ultimate in hippie sheik is displayed as I sit in my womens empowerment functions and discuss Mercury going Retro under the light of the full moon. Corporate mama meets flower child has met its medium in me. This world is my oyster, and I plan to consume a full course meal.

The Railroad Tracks

There is a railroad track next to my friend’s home that has always drawn my attention. As I awaited her arrival, I decided to walk there to pray. My hands searched for three pennies as an offering and as they found themselves into my palm, I looked down and saw three more pennies on the ground. My body stopped moving as my gaze focused on the copper just sitting there looking at me. A smile came across my face as spirit made its presence known. The brand new scarf found itself on my head as I approached the railroad track.
Prayer is a powerful thing. It is real. It can move mountains. Time spent on bended knee is important. What did I pray about? I asked for encouragement as I embarked on new journeys of developing workshops. Such endeavors include guiding people along the way while continuing to develop myself. It is an exciting and busy time. I took three rocks from the railroad as the pennies were thrown and ventured over to the little park to sit; it was time to have a conversation with my father. An odd thing happened as we chatted. A train rolled by on the same tracks where I had just prayed. This struck me as odd because that has never happened before in spite of the many times that I have been in the area. Yes, spirit heard me.