I didn't read as much as usual this week. I did quickly read through three volumes in the Heartsongs series. These are slim volumes of poetry by Mattie Stepanek, a child with muscular dystrophy. I remember seeing him on Oprah years ago when I still had TV and still occasionally watched Oprah. I have a boxed set and so read Heartsongs, Journey Through Heartsongs, & Hope Through Heartsongs (which was definitely the best of the three, I thought). I just googled him and saw that he died in 2004. :-( The idea of a heartsong is, "all people have a special song. Inside their hearts! Everyone in the whole wide world has a special Heartsong."
Reminds me of one of my favorite reminders from Wayne Dyer: "Don't die with your music still in you." I used to fret about this quite a bit--I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't letting my "music" out. Then, sort of accidentally, I started writing again and in earnest this time (articles, essays, blog posts, journals) and later realized I don't worry about dying with my music still in me anymore. During my original frets, I felt like it was other "music" that was needing out (mainly that of service to my passion for birth), not words necessarily, but I've realized that maybe it WAS literally my words dying in me that gave me that feeling. They needed to get out. I've spent a lifetime writing various essays in my head, nearly every day, but those words always "died" in me before they ever got out onto paper. Now, I get them out and it feels SO much better. Even if they don't go anywhere other than a note in my notebook, I feel so almost physically relieved when they are out and gone.
It’s perfectly okay to give up on a book
4 hours ago