Heat Wave

Sometimes it takes the tiniest spark to rekindle a flame. Next stop: conflagration.

I recently reconnected with a bay area friend to whom I haven't talked much since moving to NYC. We met through a mutual teacher and several friends, but very close to the time I moved to NYC, so we weren't very close. We were definitely in the same circles, though-- working with the same musicians, singing in the same venues, etc. Her latest note talked of her gigs (past and future), musical travels and soon getting into the studio. I can't even fully explain how much that filled my heart with joy-- both for her and for myself, living a bit vicariously. It did give me the slightest kick to get out there again (it may have been as blatant as her saying something along the lines of "you need to get out there").

Last night, I cleared off my piano bench, leafed through my book of charts, sang out loud. It surprised me how my body instantly felt a lift. The day-to-day frustration was gone and it felt like an old friend was sitting here with me in my apartment-- the friend was my own self, immersed in music.

Before I could make excuses not to (it's like I know myself), I sent a quick note to a friend in town who's been after me to sing. I committed and put a date out there.

As if the world knew, after sleeping more soundly than usual, I woke up this morning, had lost 1.5 more lbs (been trying to break through that plateau for a couple of weeks), got a note in my mailbox I've been waiting for weeks to appear, and my day progressed from there. I'm guessing my blood pressure was down. Oh, right, this is kinda' what it felt like when I used to do this stuff every day. Hey la, hey la, my boyfriend's back.