My Brain Hertz (or Musician, Heal Thyself, Part Deux)

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So, this post has two main focuses. One is to introduce you to my newest instrument acquisition and latest addition to my music making and music therapy. Meet Maimie. She’s a 10 string lyre harp. I waited quite a while for her am very pleased to have her home. She arrived on Monday and we have been making music together ever since; I’m enjoying her greatly.

While you may be happy for me finally getting a harp, it’s most likely the second point of this post that will hold much of an interest: I’ve begun experimenting with binaural beats. I have to say, I’ve noticed a difference with my ability concentrate and be alert; it’s also helping with meditation and sleeping, too.

I won’t go into an explanation of what they are here; do a Google search on binaural beats and all the info you need comes up.

I’d love to say that binaural beats are totally sorting my brain out, but that isn’t the case. I’m still spending most of my days in bed, avoiding going out/people as much as possible most of the time and would easily choose death over life, but the little improvement in simple things like focusing better on what I’m reading or watching and being able to get a more decent rest is something worth blogging about.

I recommend an app called “Relax Melodies”. Pay for the full version; it’s worth it – you’ll get all the beats to take your brain on a journey of different, helpful states.

Back to Maimie the harp, she’s the kind of thing that I would have shared with the musical friend I have mentioned in previous posts…the one that I don’t have anymore. I’ve thought a lot about her since getting Maimie, and missing…well, missing the experience I would’ve had in the sharing.

In other news, I’ve been getting together with another musical friend (one I still have, but very different to the one I lost) to work on some stuff and we may just do something with said stuff, be an acoustic duo, perform together. We’re in the early stages. I’ll keep you posted. Ha, posted… yeah, ok, I’m going now.

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All Stirred Up

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Please, forgive me if this post gets a bit fragmented. But, pieces, all over the place, that’s what I am right now. I often think how great it would be if we could defrag our minds as we do our computers. I think meditation can help in that… but, it isn’t fool proof. And, under the word human in the dictionary should be the simple definition: fool. But, I digress, and I simply beg you to stick with me. I have a question for you, but you’ll have to be patient and wade through my frag-mental stew.

I wax very philosophical at present. It started this morning with thinking about harmonics, vibration, and the nature of the universe. Deep stuff, yeah. How we’re instruments. Out of tune with ourselves, subsequently out of tune with the whole orchestra.

This analogy continued with thinking about the music we make and listen to. As society deteriorates, how the sound of that disturbance – that humongous discord – has been recreated by heavy, thrash and grunge metalists. I saw this music in a new light. There are those musicians/artists who hold on tightly to the sound of order and beauty in their music, because it is what they crave and desire; it is a wish for it to be as it should. Then, there are other artists who are “telling it like it is”, so to speak. That horrible (to my ears) harsh sound, is how the universe, how life, how we human fools sound!

I’ll take the analogy further. You can’t play anything worth listening to on a broken instrument. Musical instruments are fragile.

I could go on. But… I won’t. I’m tired and the burden of a broken soundboard is too great. I think I’ve made my point anyway.

Which direction do you stir your coffee, tea, hot chocolate, etc. in? Clockwise or counterclockwise? (This is the question.)

This morning I suddenly became aware that I always naturally stir counterclockwise.

Surely, there must be some psychology behind the direction in which we stir.

Interesting.

There are, most likely, studies about it. Certainly, some neuroscientist should be getting paid to find out why one stirs this way and another stirs that way.

So, what about you? Which way do you stir?

The First Smile of the Day

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Bombarded, tormented, overwhelmed, I went to bed last night. Meditation helped to calm the rush of my thoughts, but the cacophony never stays silent for long. I slept. I woke up. My first thought when I wake up is always, “NO! Please. No, not again.”

A rough morning. In bed with my thoughts while my husband attempts to get the kids to do their homework. Feeling hopeless.

I cry, but I know tears won’t fix anything. My husband brings me coffee and something to break my fast. I eat and drink and listen to an audio book. I play Bejeweled. I work on losing my accent; it disgusts me.

I have determined to rid myself of the vexing accent. But, like everything else detestable about myself, it continues to force itself upon me unwanted.

The American accent is hard, ugly. It sticks out like an extremely sore thumb. It’s distressingly unmusical sounding. Rough…and comical. It sounds uneducated, even if one has been an academic and applied themselves to learning.

It’s another of my exercises in futility; another losing battle. But…I keep trying.

I don’t know why it should be so difficult for me to affect the superior, musical lilt. I’m a musician. A singer. This would suggest that I have a good ear, that I am able to match pitch and mimic sound. I DO IT ALL THE BLOODY TIME. I should be able to “sing” the “song” of received English just the same.

But, I should be able to make phone calls, too.

Yeah… sigh and #!*%¡*¢!

Needing a lyre harp and being unable to get one (everyone who sells the ones I can afford insist on using paypal…why can’t they just take plastic??? And, no, don’t tell me how brilliant paypal is; it really isn’t…and anyway, the bottom line is, I can’t get my harp).

Obsessed and tormented. A morning of frustrated tears.

Then. I asked Jamie to bring me a big shirt to put on…me being sans clothing and thinking about getting out of bed. I referred to my nakedness. He smiled and cupped my breast in his hand. Suddenly, my face, there it was: the first smile of the day.

My husband locked the door and the therapy continued.

Music is therapeutic. Meditation is therapeutic. I regularly post about my therapies of choice. Sex is a particularly excellent one.

Why? Like music, there is surrender and abandon; it overcomes the mind and can drown out the cacophony. Also, there’s the giving aspect: I’m not only receiving pleasure (and therapy), I’m giving therapy. It’s good medicine.

Sexual healing. It’s not just a song. It’s a science. My smile is proof. 

Desperation and obsession still assault me, desire, frustration, exhaustion… but, any moment of relief, delight is something so precious, something to be grateful for. As I write, the smile makes another appearance. And, I’ll finish this post with the meme I made for my FB page yesterday:

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Obsession, Madness, Me

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Obsession is a form of madness. Madness is insanity. Insanity can be, or include, or engender, deep creativity. Creativity is good. And, it’s really the only reason I don’t always mind being insane. But, obsession is bad. It’s exhausting. It’s the opposite of balance. Imbalance and extreme is a part of my nature. And, no amount of creativity (and, I have a large amount) can sufficiently make up for the damage that obsession causes.

This is one reason I continue to meditate. It doesn’t stop my obsessiveness, but it can slow it down somewhat. Otherwise, I am a total train wreck.

I have not been doing well lately. I had been doing better, but then… well, medication fiascos occurred. Madness asserted itself with force. And, my physical health took a hit. It’s all made me want to hide and be reclusive again. The way I feel… the heaviness in my head and chest, makes it very difficult for me to interact with people. It makes me want to avoid them. It’s very frustrating because, as I say, I had been feeling better. This, now, is like another one of life’s kicks in the teeth.

At this same time, I discovered a gps based adventure game called Ingress. I am now obsessed with said game. One good thing is that it gets me out of the house, out of bed. And, I’m good at the game. I like being successful at something. It’s just a shame that I’m not as good at life.

I’m tired. That’s the thing. The intense, inescapable weariness has returned in force. I’m back to praying every night that I don’t wake up in the morning. Of course, I do wake up…and, I go play Ingress. It’s something. Have I mentioned, I’m good at it? Still, it would be better yet if I just didn’t wake up. And, I suppose, would be even more better (betterest) if I could feel okayish again. I mean, I wasn’t totally fine. That’s far too much for me to ask for. But, I was okayish. And, I liked it.

This. This, how I feel right now? This, I don’t like.

Anywho, that’s the latest from me. I felt I better check in, write something. So, I have.

Of the Thriving and the Awkward

It’s awesome when I see someone find their niche and, not only survive but, really thrive. It’s awesome, and it’s…

I don’t have a word.  I’m always so happy when I see it happen.  It’s beautiful.  But, it’s never happened to me.  And, I know it’s in the makeup of the person, because all situations and people vary.

I have a friend who has recently seperated from her husband and taken a new direction in her life, and everything just fits. She’s happy, she’s popular, she’s thriving.  It’s great to see.  She really deserves this happiness (her husband was a nob).  Instead of being overwhelmed by single motherhood and a new job and everything she’s had to face and take on board… she’s vibrant and happy with a new set of friends and a brimming social life.

I can sometimes get along…cope.  Those times are rare, but they do happen. However, that’s as good as it ever gets for me.  No fitting, and certainly no thriving.

Bummer.

Even when I am coping (in other words, not a totally nonfunctioning basket case) I am almost always uncomfortable, out there in the world outside my door. With the exception of when I am performing music to an appreciative audience.  I am painfully awkward otherwise and just, generally, unsuccessful.  Unsuccessful at life. Akward might be the adjective that describes me best.

Maybe that’s par for the course for someone with Borderline Personality Disorder.  After nearly 40 years, I should be used to it by now.  I should just get on with the business of existing as best I can and be grateful (which I am) for a husband that supports and looks after me, helping me to get through the days when breathing and being awake is acutely painful – and, believe me, the pain is real.  I should focus on the positive:  those precious music making/sharing moments where I feel ok out there in a world I don’t fit into.

I’m trying.  I honestly hope I am not here for another 40 years; I do not want to live in this body that long.  But, I am really trying to nix the negativity and build up some positivity.  Meditation helps.   It does help, is helping… it helps knowing that whether I ever feel ok breathing, existing, here, in life, I do have value; I do contribute something.

All this being said, when I see my friend (or anyone else) landing on their feet and veritably spilling over with the true enjoyment of living, there are those times I long to feel that love of life thing… and the not feeling it, along with all the akwardness (at best) and severe pain (at worst) that I do feel, can be overwhelmingly sad.

Again, bummer.

So, anywho, in the spirit of contributing… here’s my latest meditation song.  Thank you for reading and listening. Om shanti.