The Cottage of Blog
The Cottage of Blog
Good morning from the Cottage of Blogs.
Have you ever had a profession several lifetimes ago, left it, then have it come back and bite you in the but a whole bunch of years later? (No, I'm not talking about the world's oldest profession--or next to oldest. I think motherhood's the oldest)
I was an opera singer once upon a lifetime ago, in my twenties. Was I good? Yeah. Good enough for star status in the big houses? No. Probably not. I came to Chicago. Sang here. Decided to leave the profession. Don't ask me why, now. I really don't remember all the deep rooted insecurities. I remember some of the excuses. Wanted firm roots. Didn't want to be so one sided. Wanted "a life." And so on. It's in my blood to be one-sided. I'm a writer. How one-sided can you get?
But, I'm straying from my point. I had a dream. (No. I'm not related to Martin Luther King Jr.) Last night I dreamed I went to an audition somewhere in Europe. Probably Germany, but maybe it was NYC. I brought all the wrong music. Had no voice--barely could squeak out a note. Forgot all my words. How could I remember them after all those years? And no. I hadn't flown back in time to my twenties. I was exactly the same age I am today. Strangely, the people who were listening to me, though, were some of the same people I sang for all those years ago. They hadn't aged at all.
But, the consensus of the panel of impressarios? You can't go back. (I can't go back) I shouldn't be doing this anymore. In my dream, I realized, he was right. You can't go back.
This morning, I'm sad. Something must have broken. Some unresolved issues must have worked themselves out last night.
I'm sad. Maybe it had been a mistake to have quit all those years ago.
Why am I writing about this? Because it brings to mind something even closer--something from the present. Writing. You can't/shouldn't give up if it's in your blood to do something. Don't wake up finding you're in a new lifetime and wish you hadn't let go.
Ah well. At least I did it. As the movie said "I'll always have the stage." Maybe not now. But then. And, now I have writing and my dogs and old twenty-two year old "Socks." And my friends. And the family I have left. And teaching. Always teaching. Maybe I can accept that.
No matter what we leave behind, there's always the present and the future.
Happy reading, writing and blogging. I'll be back later to be accountable for my writing day.
pat
Good morning from the Cottage of Blogs.
Have you ever had a profession several lifetimes ago, left it, then have it come back and bite you in the but a whole bunch of years later? (No, I'm not talking about the world's oldest profession--or next to oldest. I think motherhood's the oldest)
I was an opera singer once upon a lifetime ago, in my twenties. Was I good? Yeah. Good enough for star status in the big houses? No. Probably not. I came to Chicago. Sang here. Decided to leave the profession. Don't ask me why, now. I really don't remember all the deep rooted insecurities. I remember some of the excuses. Wanted firm roots. Didn't want to be so one sided. Wanted "a life." And so on. It's in my blood to be one-sided. I'm a writer. How one-sided can you get?
But, I'm straying from my point. I had a dream. (No. I'm not related to Martin Luther King Jr.) Last night I dreamed I went to an audition somewhere in Europe. Probably Germany, but maybe it was NYC. I brought all the wrong music. Had no voice--barely could squeak out a note. Forgot all my words. How could I remember them after all those years? And no. I hadn't flown back in time to my twenties. I was exactly the same age I am today. Strangely, the people who were listening to me, though, were some of the same people I sang for all those years ago. They hadn't aged at all.
But, the consensus of the panel of impressarios? You can't go back. (I can't go back) I shouldn't be doing this anymore. In my dream, I realized, he was right. You can't go back.
This morning, I'm sad. Something must have broken. Some unresolved issues must have worked themselves out last night.
I'm sad. Maybe it had been a mistake to have quit all those years ago.
Why am I writing about this? Because it brings to mind something even closer--something from the present. Writing. You can't/shouldn't give up if it's in your blood to do something. Don't wake up finding you're in a new lifetime and wish you hadn't let go.
Ah well. At least I did it. As the movie said "I'll always have the stage." Maybe not now. But then. And, now I have writing and my dogs and old twenty-two year old "Socks." And my friends. And the family I have left. And teaching. Always teaching. Maybe I can accept that.
No matter what we leave behind, there's always the present and the future.
Happy reading, writing and blogging. I'll be back later to be accountable for my writing day.
pat
posted by Unknown at 7:36 AM
2 Comments:
Thanks Marlene,
I was a bit down this morning. I had a catharsis, I guess you might call it. That's never pleasant. LOL
Awww Joan. I probably would have writen anyhow. I would have been retired by now. LOL
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