At the end of this began a very dark time for me. I stopped playing entirely. Many months went by when I never so much as picked up an instrument, except perhaps to move it. It is almost literally true to say I did little more than lie in bed, waiting for the end. I do not wish to describe or relive that time further, except to say that it was a long, dark tunnel.
I feel more than ever that I am on the other side of that tunnel now, or coming out of it. It is often hard to delineate the changes of life's stages, and even describing things in that way narrows them down and makes them wrong in the way words do. It will do well enough for now I suppose. One sign of this, perhaps, is that Linda and I are playing together again, in her band, Mama Lucky.
It was very strange, those many months, a few years even, not being in a band, not touching music, living right next to Linda; and Gary, the keyboard player. There were many nights I would lie in bed, just wishing for sleep (and oh, what an elusive djinn was sleep, especially at night), listening to them rehearse. All I could really hear was the bass. That, and JD's kick. And, once in a while, other elements of the drums and just the slightest sprinkle of Gary's keyboards, Linda's vocals, or guitar.
I have no words to say about the prior bassist or guitarist; it isn't important. They left, just as I was winding down an attempt to fit in with a bar band. Linda called me, and it seemed I had a choice to make. In the end, my heart made it for me. There was nothing for my head to decide. The welling of my tears during rehearsal made everything clear.
There is nothing like coming home, especially when you have given up on it.
I do not mean to say that I think this is my final home in the path of my purpose. But it is certainly the closing of a circle. There can be no doubt I have learned some things through all this, and I am not quite the person I was before. I am grateful beyond words for the sense of renewal in my life, grateful for the lessons; lessons of what to do and be, and perhaps even more, of some things to leave behind.
I'm grateful for so many people in my life. There is my sister, Sharon, and my net-friend, Jodi. Certainly Linda, and also Gary, as well as JD--what joy for a bassist to play with such a drummer--and Lang, whom I am only coming to know. There is Robert, whose friendship is so special to me, and Glenn & Therese--though I don't see them much right now, they remain close to my heart--their daughter Angelina, and also Jacob and Isabella, though I barely know the one and the other hardly at all. I cannot fail to mention Brad, the cellist, cat saviour, and (in my eyes) genius; and Coleman, through whom I met Brad, and who is certainly a musical genius.
There are others, of course, and I fear to omit someone. There are several people on Facebook for whom I feel varying degrees of empathy and affinity. My nephews and nieces; I won't name them. I love them all. Aunts and uncles and cousins, and my brothers, all hold places in my heart. Nor will I omit such animals as I have come to know and love. It is my particular pleasure to be a cat uncle, even if I have none of my own.
I would also like to mention my special loved ones. These are people I only know through that mechanism called imagination, although the word doesn't quite suit my purposes. These are individuals I feel it is my task to introduce to others through the portals of the unconscious; I hope I do not fail them.
I feel I may be done with this, as done as I can usually feel with most anything, it seems, even as February falls away. I wish to express my gratitude, and my awareness of whatever this may be, a new stage, the present moment, whatever remains of my life. Though I cannot say I have acheived the things I wish to achieve, if the curtain fell right now I would know that I am blessed.
Thank you.
Love,
Mark
Fri 28 Feb 2014 10:35:45 PM CST
Fri 28 Feb 2014 10:45:05 PM CST
