How writer’s block and an old poem resulted in thoughts on trust

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I’ll be honest here: I was having a brain fart. Or a writer’s block. Or something.

So, I put on my music and considered writing a poem instead. But when opening Word, I glimpsed a poem I wrote on December 20, 2016. I opened “The musical river” and read it. Reading that spawned another idea, which led me to my blog and prompted me to write the following words: “I’m still not quite sure how I want to get a point across. So for now, I have another exercise.”

Well, let me just take it from there, because my writer’s block went away.

If you would, go to iTunes or Spotify or YouTube and pick your favorite song to listen to. And I mean, a song that really, really gets you — every single time you listen to it. (If you’re at a loss for a song, here’s one from The Piano Guys.)

Now, lose yourself… in the music, the moment…

***

The musical river

One musical note
doesn’t seem like much —
as a single drop of water
doesn’t amount to much.

Perhaps this note is a B flat
or a C sharp —
and perhaps this drop of water
falls from the faucet
or drops from the sky.

On its own,
that one musical note
seems lonely and without context —
and the drop of water
seems small and insignificant.

But when that one tone
is followed by other individual tones —
and when that drop of water
is joined by more beads of water —

together they define a new creation.

The musical notes
support each other,
lead each other,
pushing forward with a sense
of purpose and perseverance —
as the drops of water
join together to become
a single entity
that flows with elegant determination,
until, at last,

the end of a new masterpiece.

***

I’ve been thinking a lot about trust recently. In fact, I’ve been thinking about trust for the past couple of months. And when I thought of trust, my thoughts turned to trust falls. I’m sure you all know what a trust fall is, but just in case:

Trust is scary. That moment you choose to let yourself fall is a moment when you place complete control into the hands of someone else. You trust that person to ignore surrounding distractions and catch you, support you.

So, these thoughts were lingering in my mind, when I turned on my music and read this poem again. That’s when the following thoughts passed through my mind: Each musical note does a trust fall into the next one. Without the next note to catch the one before it, the music ceases to be.

The musical notes in your favorite song rely on each other to create the final outcome. Without that trust, their existence and ultimate purpose would be undetermined and meaningless.

I’ll let you ruminate on that thought for a bit.

I will trust and not be afraid

img_4026-newIn my previous post, I left you at a ledge with a decision to make: Would you stay content in the darkness or would you move toward the light?

That ledge is daunting. You have no idea how far the drop is or what you might find below — if you survive the fall. To jump would mean losing control. It would be a leap of faith — belief without logical proof that there is more than the darkness you’ve been in, that purpose can be found.

You jump.

Your heart pounds violently, and your stomach flops as you fall. You’re terrified and utterly helpless. You have no idea what will happen to you.

You continue to fall, until, suddenly, you’re submerged in cold water. Water rushes into your lungs and you try to keep your head above water. You tread water, but the water is deep and you quickly get tired. You try to swim, but you don’t know which direction to go. You yell out for help.

Then, you hear a voice say, “Here, take my hand.” You reach your arm out to grasp the outstretched hand. The person is in a small boat that has a lantern attached to the helm. The lantern’s light emits a warm glow that contrasts with the icy water engulfing you. The person hoists you into the boat and wraps a warm, dry blanket around you.

You don’t know who the person is. You don’t know where the person is going. But the person has helped you.

The person turns to look at you and asks you a question…

… and before you answer, I want you to remember that Princess Jasmine wouldn’t have discovered a whole new world if she hadn’t first decided to answer the same question:do-you-trust-me

Do you trust me?