“In other words”

January 18, 2022

I received the kalimba you bought for me today. I don’t know how to play it yet but it gives me so much joy. It’s like I could finally hear the pictures in my head and how my paintings sound like. No wonder deaf infants look the way they do when they hear their mothers’ voices for the first time after being fitted with hearing aides, experiencing even just a fraction of that already feels wonderful.

I can finally get my circles to have a conversation. I always imagined they spoke in musical notes. I can hear them rolling down staircases and passing through doors. And I can hear them shifting colors and changing into various shapes. It’s all just happening in my head right now but at least I can think again, I can imagine again. Thank you for being impulsive on my behalf, I never would have known this small device was a necessity in getting me out of a dark place had you not gifted me one.

***

You wrote another song today. Kumbaga. You thought about it while we were making jokes about seeing each other later tonight. It’s great that you’re writing again even though it’s not the mood you’re used to getting inspiration from. 

I remember our conversation about drawing from the well of sadness just to create something and how difficult it is to come up with anything when you’re riding euphoria. It seems like we’re doing our best to change that about us. It makes me feel hopeful. And knowing that you and I are doing it together, albeit separately, gives me comfort that I am not alone in finding a path where I don’t have to sacrifice my happiness for the sake of art.

***

As we always tell each other, things are easy between you and I. And amazingly, you have made being stuck in a creative rut seem so easy for me to get out of. You’re a miracle worker. Running towards happiness isn’t so terrifying anymore with you around.