The healing process is really fucking hard.
It sucks. It’s lonely, it’s mean, and it’s inconsistent. It’s made up of highs and lows and corners turned only to find another obstacle squarely in your way, blocking forward movement. Once again, your stuck – until you’re not. It’s exhausting.
Yet it’s necessary, it’s freeing and it’s ultimately the most beautiful thing in life you can accomplish for yourself.
You’ll recognize it suddenly, but truly seeing it’s beauty comes eventually ~ long after you think it will and long before you hope it will.
Eventually your every day moments become like a silk tapestry or an artfully composed piece of music ~ the threads and melodies woven together into a symphonic story. You find yourself looking forward to each beautiful note with a range as sweeping and euphonious as as only the voice of Chris Cornell can reach ~ both the agonized bone deep baritone lows and the rhapsodic high notes felt as deep into the soul as sound can possibly reach.
It’s a real and incredibly strong connection to your mind/body/spirit to the point of asking yourself more and more, can this be real or am I actually just cray and delusional? Is life and the realization of my dreams really this simple, and why was it so fucking hard to get here? You realize, “My God. I have the ability to create and live the life of my dreams.” I never knew that. Not deep down where my real shit lives.
This gut realization is so incredibly undeniable that it’s scary. Fear then calls up all these other damn shadow emotions to start the process all over again with the next batch. Like one of those starter bread recipes. I never really liked that stuff.
And eventually you reach the point where everything is all so synchronistic and beautiful, that once again you see it as a musical collaboration that intertwines with your soul, all facets working together to create one gorgeous composition.
And you realize it’s your life. Healing you with music.