Bleed Out Your Heart

Did you miss me? Well, I'm back, sort of, after my surgical induced hiatus from access to a computer and, well...sight. But here I am once again as I work my way back to normal and some version of sanity in this world.

It's been a bit of a strange few weeks for me, so much so that I feel a tad askew lately. Things change, things end and things happen. I feel like I have a ton of things to say and yet I don't know what I want to talk about. Weird huh? I almost feel like I am in a holding pattern, which makes sense since I am in some aspects. Nothing to worry about of course just pondering.

A song has been endlessly playing in the background this past week, an inescapable earworm that for some reason simply won't go away. Not that I hate the song, quite the contrary, I simply want to know why.

The song is Wolves by Big Wreck. The song, to me, feels like it should have been a huge hit in my youth. It's melodic, soaring and has a depth to it that makes me want to claim it as the music of my generation as opposed to something from this decade that doesn't know how to appreciate it for what it is...a great rock and roll song. Period.

Of course, the music is great but as you can probably guess the lyrics behind it are what keeps playing through my mind with Ian Thornley's soaring voice providing the colour. 

"Oh mark my words

In between the lines

And every little piece

Of the story's entwined"

Invoking the theme of my life lately, the imagery and symbolism of life as a tapestry, my love of stories and authentic experiences that, hopefully, teach me something every day and in the end simply choosing to live life as if I was alive. Lately, I feel like I am nibbling at the edges of something deeper, something more real in my writing and in my life. The nagging feeling that I have something to say but am not saying it. Wandering around the grounds outside instead of joining the party inside the palatial palace.

Ernest Hemingway said that “there is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” And that may very well be the case, but what of this...

"Oh, they said bleed out your heart

If it's still beating for someone else

Trap all those chains

That keep you tethered, that keep you safe"

Taking those chances, allowing yourself to feel pain, to feel fear, to feel. It's not easy of course. Fucking ponies, people and our own heads get in the way too often, but I do think there is both value and virtue in trying regardless. The journey, and not the destination, are what we should be focused on. The experiences we have, the stories we collect and the people we meet are what our tapestries are weaved from.

"And all of my favourite stories are about you"

It's funny how simply writing about this has helped to clear my head a bit. The act of "bleeding on the page" has helped to clarify my thoughts and feelings. Cathartic some may say. I know for me, over the past two years or so, this blog has been a bit of a lifeline in times of doubt, in times of confusion and in times of revelation. I recommend it highly my friends...do it for yourself, I promise that it will help. Write for yourself.

When writing I often do Google searches for words that I have running through my head, lyric meanings and so on to help with clarity and direction. One of those searches provided this quote that I want to think on for a bit.

"no one can change the sound of an echo"

I like this. But why?

Photo courtesy of my incomparable friend Margo