Bold melodies. That’s what I wondered this week. Bold, or lonely? And your input on that expanded and evolved in me to focus on the topic of melodies in this first post. You beautifully described how melody, when given its appropriate space and patience on our behalf – opening ourselves to hearing and receiving it, can be so powerful as to move mountains. How it is like an arrow going directly into you, like a sun ray, “aha”-moment, a crack in a black canvas.
So many unique and exciting ways to perceive a melody, triggering a lot of thoughts to share. What is my relationship to melodies then? What is your relationship to melodies? How is your “melodic relationship” doing? Mine has gradually been getting more intimate again after almost a breakup it seems.
For a period of time it was so silent in me – for months actually now – I didn’t hear those little melodies that started to greet me almost daily in the late spring and summer. This happened, when I took time in the mornings to – indeed, just – show up and dedicate some time for composing. Approximately one hour daily at work. Not giving myself any pressure of accomplishing anything specific. Just being there, somehow exploring the topic of composing. This was the trigger I guess.
Gradually the melodies started to come. Whenever. Walking. In the train. At work. In private, in public. Small ones. Simple ones. For the first time in my life I gave them the “right to exist”. I heard them, took them seriously. I recorded them. I wrote some of them down. No matter how simple they were. I didn’t judge them. I started to collect them and let them tell their unheard stories.
Then my morning routine of taking time for composing paused. Don’t ask why. I could give a lot of excuses or explanations, maybe even reasons. However it doesn’t justify the fact that a habit that important wore off of me.
It’s Winter now. And I’m glad to notice my melodies are coming back to me. Now that my morning routine of improvisation has been going on for a month or so, I start to experience a change. So many other things have been taking my time in the beginning phase of my work that I haven’t given creative tasks much time. But the little time that I have given them, has produced a little fruit.
Some little, persistent melodies.
And I am happy about the new direction, ground taken back from business, distractions and other relatively unimportant things in comparison to something that can eventually pierce right through you if treated with proper care, inspection… if given its deserved silence to embrace it, the patience and attention as to a little child that comes visible as their need to be seen and heard is satisfied.
I am sensing a better season in creative work ahead, as “the internal organ of music is roused in me” – maybe the silence of the Winter is needed to wake me up from the hibernation of the Summer.