Recently, I’ve been very much connected with my younger self.
In 1975, I was fifteen years old. If I close my eyes, I am able to transport myself back to that same desk in my high school English class where I used to sit. It was 35 years ago.
I can hear my teacher’s voice, and she is telling me that our assignment is to write a “stream of consciousness.”
I remember I was quite silly. Sometimes, I would write nonsense to just fill up that white sheet of notebook paper. I enjoyed writing about all the boyfriends I was so fickle about. Often, I wrote to a version of my future self. I called her “Judy of the Future.”
Yesterday, I had lunch with my high school English teacher. I never imagined myself as an adult, and here I was sitting across from this brilliant woman whom I admired so much when I was fifteen years old. I could now call her by her first name and share all that had happened to me since those high school days.
I brought a few things with me to share. I showed her some artwork, and then I pulled out some old and yellowed papers. There was a commendation she had written for my file all those years ago. I also brought with me the very first page of that “stream of consciousness” assignment. The notebook it came from continued as a diary which I kept until I was twenty-four. It was all due to this teacher.
My teacher’s name was Sharon. She was lovely and attentive. I felt fortunate that she was my teacher, because a few years after I was her student, she changed careers. She was now a prominent and successful attorney.
My thirty-five years of maturity made me feel as though I was a seed that had grown into a bountiful tree. We parted, and I felt appreciative of her many suggestions on ways I could continue to enrich my journey.
It was such a fascinating and enjoyable experience.
“My stream of consciousness this morning”
I have no idea whether my music is appealing to a blog audience, or whether this new direction has derailed me from ever achieving a significant, “second career.”
The “writer inside” has not been appearing to me. I’ve decided to write anyway. I am not sure whether I want to pursue writing as a career anymore.
Sometimes I wonder why I feel the need to share so much with the world. My openness is unusual, to say the least. However, I am at a point in my life where whatever I am doing is working for me. I am very happy.
I feel able to express my words easily, and I’m very comfortable in my own skin. I am extremely connected to expressing my creativity in numerous ways. My family is perplexed by all the time I’ve spent without any income.
Where is this all going? When I allow “poisonous doubt” to seep into me, I become paralyzed. I have solved this question for myself.
It can simply go nowhere.
I have derived so much satisfaction from knowing that I’ve created something that will always be there to document my life experience. Creating all that I have has been a passionate exercise with a tangible result for me. Whether or not it translates into any income is immaterial. For me, it has become something of value that is beyond anything else I could ever achieve.
Eventually, I will record all of my improved, songs in lower keys. My ability to compose complex chord progressions amazes me, and has given me intense satisfaction. I am hoping I’ll become a significantly, better singer.
My words and music have memorialized my dead son. He is always with me. My living children have grown by leaps and bounds before my eyes. All of the years that I invested my energy into their lives yielded a beautiful result.
Someday, I will know the answer about where this is all going. In the meantime, if my journey ended tomorrow, I would still be in the stratosphere.
In 1975 at the age of 15, I wrote:
“How are you doing, Judy of Future? It’s weird how at your time you know something I don’t. Well you can’t tell me, of course, as I won’t be here when you read this. I can’t answer . . . already the “me” that wrote most of this paper is gone. Let me predict . . . I bet your guitar is leading you to many performances!”
When I wrote those words, I was certain that someday I would be reading them and appreciating my youthful ideas. One of the most beautiful parts of my journey has been connecting with both Judy of the Past and Judy of the Future. “Judy of the Past” speaks to me, especially with my song “Through My Music.” Somehow, she knew many things that I was not aware of until the day when music awakened my emotions once again.
I have no desire anymore to write to “Judy of the Future,” even though I have some curiosity because she knows the outcome of her journey. “Judy of the Present” is peaceful and content; she feels her future will be more beautiful than anything she could possibly imagine. She connects to all parts of herself, the past, the present and the future.
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