08/09/2026
This morning I woke up overwhelmed.
The house was a mess.
There was so much to do.
My mind was already running through the list before I’d even really started my day.
And I could feel the emotions rising.
Normally, I would just keep going.
Clean the house.
Get things done.
Push the feelings down and move on with the day.
But this morning I did something different.
I sat.
I stopped trying to change what I was feeling and just listened to what was actually there.
And underneath the overwhelm…
I was sad.
I missed my dad.
I let myself sit there for a moment without needing to make the sadness go away.
And then a song came into my mind.
Hallelujah.
The song we played at Dad’s funeral.
So I put it on.
Not to make myself feel better.
But to let myself feel more.
I let the music take me where I hadn’t allowed myself to go.
I cried.
I felt the sadness.
I felt the love.
I felt the memories.
And instead of pushing any of it back down, I let it move.
And then something completely unexpected happened.
I became curious about the song.
Why does this song make me feel so much?
What is it about the words?
The music?
The rise and fall?
The way it seems to hold heartbreak and beauty at the same time?
That one question opened a thread for me that I never could have planned this morning.
A thread about sound.
About writing.
About how words can move like music.
How they can fall, hold, lift and land.
How we can create something that isn’t just heard or understood…
but felt.
And suddenly the morning that I thought was getting in the way of everything I needed to create…
became the thing creating through me.
There’s more to this. I’ve continued it in the first comment ↓