Our songs travel the earth. We sing to one another. Not a single note is ever lost and no song is original. They all come from the same place and go back to a time when only the stones howled.

Louise Erdrich

Words live in my head. When I think them, they are In my head. Getting ready to write my post here, I have to think it through. Live is full of material to write about.  I make a selection, pursue is and come up with this every week.

When I speak words, though they come out of my mouth. Or my throat. Then again, they come through my lungs. I notice this more when I sing.

OH yes, the singing.  I breathe in from the wide world and breathe it out again, adding my own vibration. Sometimes that is far easier than arranging sentences.

With singing and music, I add the hum.

With writing, the readers, the audience have to choose to read and make it alive, to hear the thrum of meaning in their own heads.

Here’s an update on my musical pursuit. I let you all know I”d been working on singing and playing 100 new songs. I’m up to 66 (here’s the current list).

As I’ve pursed this goal, and kept on it, more opportunities appeared. I found a friendly Open mic, and signed up. I saw a musical friend there, and he introduced me to a bass player. I had a great set and they both offered to join me on the next open mic and be my backup band.

With that confidence boost, I invited more people to come to the next open mic. A classical cellist was interested and she joined me too.

Nothing wins like winning so I made music performance a higher priority on my schedule.

A drummer from a local band was joining in with a jazz ensemble, so I blew off another obligation to see him play. He was delighted to see me and introduced me to the rest of the band.

Their organist Mass plays every week at another local spot. I dropped in on that one and found he had a whole jazz drop-in situation.

Now I have a reason to learn to practice jazz vocals. He said he’d play behind me if I wanted to sing.

It is so right that a jazz musician holds the gate open “come on in!”

Miles David said there are no wrong notes in jazz, only notes in the wrong places.

Some art is meant for music, and some is meant for sentences.

Or maybe words.

As I play in each of the spaces, I learn more how they fit.

How I fit