I don’t want to break up with you
Post no. 4: Maybe creativity just found someone else.
A session that was booked for Monday got cancelled. Suddenly I had a full day open. I knew what it meant: go meet your piano. Just hang out at your studio.
So there I sit, by the piano, in silence, not playing a note.
I wait for something.
The sound of a passing car rings through the window, making the silence even louder. All the instruments look dead.
You need to help me! I hear myself saying out loud.
We’re in this togehter.
Like a couple that’s been together for so long,
grown into each other,
grown numb to each other,
not remembering how to be mesmerised about the other nor themselves anymore,
I put my fumbling hands on the keys and play a note.
I play another note.
It feels awkward, and boringly obvious.
You need to help me with this!!
I cry. And my fingers keep on fumbling. I realise I am lost without that something that used to flow out so naturally. Like my soul had been amputated a long time ago and I had just figured it out. I wonder if this is what people call growing up, losing that natural connection to something greater. I feel like a coffee machine, all set to brew, but the cord is not plugged in. I’m ready, but nothing’s happening.
Only this time I just let myself be there. There in that very uncomfortable place of waiting if the other one will show up. Wondering how will I know if I’ve waited for long enough. Not wanting to think about that option.
I wait…and then, some words start to come. Some melodies and chords start to come. I keep myself from judging the quality of my — of our creations, and just let it come. It’s not that special, but it is.
The first breath of fresh air.
I stay there for hours. I play and let the recording run. Nothing that comes out feels nothing close to spectacular but like that long relationship starting to awake from hibernation I feel a shift that makes me happy.
I’m singing mantras. Healing mantras. I’m singing those as much to myself as to my piano and inner creator. I’m rebuilding something that was been put on hold. On hold, behind a wall, maybe behind that invisible wall I wrote about earlier, to protect myself from all those disappointments and discouragements I experienced.
Like holding hands for the first time after months of stale relationship, I feel hope awakening. I’m glad.
I can’t wait to get to meet my piano again.
I’m an artist working on my album until May 2018. Do check out my music and come say hello on any of my social media channels (FB, IG, TW). Don’t hesitate to send me an email at annimusicinfo (at) gmail (dot) com.
These blog posts will be used as building blocks for a book about creativity once the album is done.