I lay in bed this morning worrying about this evening.  I’m singing a song called “Remember When The Music” at an open mic session.  I sang it a few weeks ago at another venue but now I’m struggling to remember the words.

I love singing to people.  And I wonder if this is my future: forgetting the lyrics as I stand on stage.  Oh well.  I’ll deal with it in my brain and heart.  No way am I going to sing while gazing at my phone screen.

As I ate breakfast today at Martens, an old memory surfaced.  I was on a spiritual retreat in the Rocky Mountains of Canada.  It was evening, and we participants were enjoying a drink in the hotel pub.

I told my neighbours about some emotional issue that was polluting my mind.  The woman next to me stood up and said “Do this.”

She extended her arm straight ahead at waist level, palm up.  Then she slowly raised her hand until it was above her head.

I got it.  The words that appeared inside my head weren’t as powerful as seeing the physical movement.

Many times since, my hand has ended up way high in the sky.  Today is another opportunity for elevation.

***

And now for a song … Bruce Springsteen wrote My City Of Ruins.  His words speak to me:

Now the sweet bells of mercy drift through the evening trees
Young men on the corner like scattered leaves
The boarded up windows, the empty streets
While my brother’s down on his knees
My city of ruins
My city of ruins

Come on, rise up!
Come on, rise up!
Come on, rise up!
Come on, rise up!

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=CapO4lucqH4&si=UfC3zkHSdelxf2Jc