In many aspects of life, I’m a believer that transparency is king. Nothing appeals to me quite like someone willing to be honest. When someone trusts me, I typically find the courage to return their gift with my own candor. But then, of course, there’s that very fine line you don’t want to cross when you realize you’ve shared too dang much! The tightrope act comes to mind (dating myself, are there still tightrope acts? I hope so. They were exciting.)
Writing reminds me of making my way across the high wire, one toe at a time, careful not to misstep. Like many of the live tightrope acts, there’s no safety net below. It’s a component of the experience that likely, in the end, makes it as thrilling as it is.
I will never forget the early days of blogging, the sheer terror of pressing send and offering my thoughts into the blogosphere. It thankfully did become easier as time passed and developed into the highlight of my days.
The upcoming release of my book feels much the same as those early days of blogging. As my release date nears, I vacillate between excitement and panic/dread/dismay. (I could add more synonyms for terror if need be.)
But then, I get a response from a loved one/reader/follower that lifts me from that place of anxiety and reminds me to enjoy the journey. Once I dry my heartfelt tears of gratitude, I take a yogini breath and put my foot out once again, feeling for that high wire, trusting in its strength and my ability to place my toe right where it needs to go. And when I get it right, it’s a high like no other.
I had a subject I was making my way to finish this post with, but the universe stepped in, demanding that I finish up differently. I always write to music. I write and cry and read my words repeatedly, correcting, changing, rearranging, deleting. This cycle continues until I am satisfied with what I have shared.
Music is an integral part of me writing anything worth reading. Guess my dad’s girl did inherit the need for music to create her art.
In my early days of writing, I quoted the lyrics of songs too often. I always wanted to share the music that inspired me. But I learned that I needed to enjoy the music in my earphones and only share my words. I often wished there was a way to share the songs I was listening to as I wrote to help my readers feel what I was feeling. Now I believe there is that capability. Maybe one day I will use it.
I recently watched Modern Love on Netflix, Season 2. If you haven’t watched this, and you like a crazy current day happy ever after love story, give it a look. I found myself repeatedly pressing the rewind button on my tv to listen to the soundtrack at the end while doing my dishes. I downloaded it a few days ago on iTunes to write to and began listening to it tonight.
It’s interesting what different people connect with when it comes to music. For me, often, it’s the melody over the lyrics. If I listen long enough, I finally memorize the words, but I can hum the tune from early on.
Tonight, as I was writing and rewriting, listening to my iTunes, I actually heard the words “high wire” maybe only five minutes after focusing on those same exact words in my writing. Wait, WHAT?
I instantly went to my iTunes to see what I was listening to and then looked up the lyrics and smiled at the universe, always lending a hand. I was enjoying and connecting with a song entitled Circus. The words were eerily pertinent to my post and the melody haunting in a perfect way. Tonight I will break my rule and share the beautiful lyrics. If you are of a mind, pull it up for a listen.
The adventure of publishing this book feels much like the Circus coming to town. It’s only passing through, but my heart is flying somewhere above the high wire, and I will likely always love and remember this time with fondness.
Circus by Nerina Pallot
Candy stripes and coloured wagons
Lights against the sky
Red and yellow dancing in your eyes
I let my heart fly
Above the high wire
But we came spinning down
Do you remember when the Circus came to town?
Cavalcades and fun parades
Are only passing through
Their painted wheels roll on to somewhere new
And I don’t want to
But I still love you
And I can’t turn it around
’cause I still remember when the Circus came to town.