A Clair de Lune State of Mind…

peter monnWarning: This post is best read if you go to the bottom and play Claire de Lune while reading.   Trust me, it will make more sense!

It has been exactly one month since I’ve written anything on here.  I’m not going to make any excuses for not writing and I’m not going to explain away the details of my last month.  The reality is that I’ve spent most of my time behind my glasses, smoking cigarettes and drinking strong coffee from my French press, smudging my fingers with pens as I make notes and more notes, outlining my next two books, which I’m writing simultaneously.

While writing tonight, I found this extended version of Claire De Lune and my mind drifted.  Almost exactly 7 years ago my mother entered a coma and passed away three weeks later.  Only three months before she had been dancing to Bob Dylan in her kitchen, her platinum blonde hair bouncing and swaying to Subterranean Homesick Blues.  Her smile and her laughter still haunt me and as much as I miss her, I know it was her time.

During those months where my mother was sick I took her to several doctor’s appointments and hospital tests, with the constant diagnosis of “we just don’t know” being the answer.  During one of these tests, while my mother was being poked and prodded I found myself sitting in the lobby of the hospital reading this book called A Year To Live: How to Live This Year As If It Were Your Last by Stephen Levine.  Recently I found this book again and realized I never finished it.  Somewhere between it’s words my mother died and I think I lost hope.

While I sat reading the book, underlining passages that, at the time, seemed downright profound, a piano player began playing Debussy’s Clair de Lune.  I remember putting the book down and closing my eyes, taking in my emotions as they tangoed over the piano keys.  Yes, I would live this year as if it were my last.  How could I not? The song would serve as a sort of theme song to reminding me of the beauty of the world.

That was 7 years ago and I’m not sure what happened.  Time happened I guess and somewhere in the middle I became content.  I have an amazing life.  At night I fall asleep to the whir of a fan, comforted by the breathing of my husband and my dogs at my side.  I wake to gratitude for my life and an earning for a new day.  I dance in my car and eat incredible tasting food.  I laugh often and equally, cry often.  My life is full of ups and downs and I am thankful for both, because it is the bitter and the sweet that makes my life so rich.

But sometimes I can become too content.  I found this to be true today when a successful writer friend posted that he had finished his next book in his series.  While I was excited for him, I was frustrated with myself for not continuing on my writing journey, having made excuses for months about blockage and not being able to write when in reality, the story and the books have been right in front of me all along. The thing I learned most from my mother’s death was that life is extremely short and I have to make the most of all of those small, wonderful things while I can.  I have to chase after my dreams at full speed and make the happen.  That is the purpose of my life; a life fulfilled.

So I’m back.  I can’t promise what I’ll be writing about on here.  Some days may be a favorite picture or just a song I’d forgotten but found again or you may find a political dissertation about my beliefs about certain subjects.  You might find a poem or short story, possibly even a picture of my dog Boo Radley.  But somewhere, I’ll be hiding within the words and pictures, finding myself as I continue to live each day…because, as my mother always said, we’re on borrowed time as it is.

Much love…I’ve missed you,

Peter

PS…If you’re rich and you’d like to support an artist like myself, contact me.  We can arrange that! xo
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