“Where your treasure is, there lies your heart.”
What have I poured my treasure into?
Words. And music.
Books and books and books of words about fantastic adventures and noble lives and strange mysteries and new life and new civilizations.
And music of all shapes (sounds?) and sizes. Recordings from yesterday, recordings from 40-50 years ago, recordings from the beginning of recording.
Words. And music.
The words are messages in bottles, stories and thoughts preserved in a time machine from the time before everything changed. And so are the recordings – music from another time. How exciting it might be to have words and music from the future, but the future has not happened yet, any more than the past still exists in another dimension. We have the power to go there at the tips of our brains – because the power of the imagination is unlimited. We imagine the music of the future and convert it into the music of today.
There is something to be said about not turning on the computer for the first hour or so of the day, or even – dare I? – until I get to work in the morning, leaving the home computing until I get home at night. When I turn it on in the morning, all of these voices scream silently for attention – waiting to tell me what they know or sing/play me a tune – and so I sit mesmerized by natterings and unimportant words and music.
If, instead of slipping on the computer in the morning, I sat and wrote, or pulled one of the voices around me off the shelf, could I enrich my morning beyond the reach of the glowing screen? I so suspect.
In fact, I wrote the above words yesterday morning, with pen and paper, sitting in a chair and listening to the chattering of red-wing blackbirds instead of staring at the glow.