I remember the first time that I listened to Ed Sheeran’s new album. I didn’t really know who he was before that, but I stumbled upon it on spotify. A sign of a good song is when it causes you to stop everything you are doing and just sit there and listen to it. I did this with the entire album. I just sat curled up in my favorite chair and let Ed sing to me about love, life, and loss.
His songs still get me a little bit emotional when I listen to them. They are just words and just music, only they aren’t. They are so much more because music is so much more. The arts are so much more, because they touches a part of us that nothing else can. They drive our human existence. They drive humanity together, because in that moment your realize that someone else gets it and we are not truly as alone as we feel.
Science may create the medicines that keep us alive, but with the arts we struggle and thrive. With the arts our broken hearts heal.
I grew up listening to my father sing. Sometimes it was playing hymns on the piano and other times it was singing along to Simon and Garfunkel in his office. It didn’t matter where he was, his voice loud and strong filled the whole house. And I suppose I just got use to always having music be there in the background of my life.
I have been doing a lot of self-exploration into what I want to do with the rest of my life. And every time I come full circle back to the arts. I can’t escape them. Just like listening to my father sing, the arts have always been in the background of my life. I tell myself that they aren’t practical, then I remember that is exactly why I need them. Because practicality will silently lull us to our grave. Practicality will cause me to wake up one more when I am 50 with realization that I never chased any of my dreams.
It has been about three months since I have started writing everyday and posting a new blog at least once a week. I didn’t originally plan on writing that much. I find that forcing myself to write steals my creativity, and I am left looking at a blank sheet. I just started doing it more often. Then I started wanting to do it all the time.
The more I write the more I love it, and the more I realize I have to write. I have to write because it is my oxygen, and it feels as natural as breathing. I write because it keeps me sane. I write to heal. I write to forgive.
I write because there is so much in this beautiful life that inspires me, and I am desperate to not let it slip through my fingers.