Ma chanson is the title of one of the songs that I will perform on Sunday, 21 November 2010 during the 16th Edition of Arts Fleurimont. It’s more than a song … it’s a state of mind, a reflection of how I’m feeling at the moment — that I’ve got to sing my song.
The last few weeks, since my mother’s passing, have been rough. The worst part of all was the lack of sleep, but in the past few days that has improved considerably. And because I’m sleeping better, I’m feeling more like myself, anchored more firmly to my dreams.
“La vie est belle” (Life is beautiful) is a line in the song that hit me like an atom bomb today. Making my way towards the dry cleaner’s after work, protected by my umbrella from the light drizzle, I realized just how blessed I am. I have in my life friends and family who have supported and encouraged me, in good times and bad, no matter what the cost. Since I decided to leave the public service in 2004, I have focused on what matters most, what I’m passionate about — writing, painting, music — all in the pursuit of a dream. Almost a year ago I moved to a new city to be closer to the person who captured my heart, and that love still holds me strong.
There was a sense of peace, of being at one with the world as I sat down at this piano earlier this evening and practiced scales before diving into the selections I’ve chosen for my first public performance here in Sherbrooke. I put in a good hour at the piano before heading into the kitchen where I poured myself a glass of wine and prepared my supper. I am trying to fulfil my commitment to make myself at least one “gourmet” dinner a week. On tonight’s menu were fresh shrimp in a white wine, cream and basil sauce.
The evening is slowly winding down. Reading through a chapter of a manuscript this morning before work. Practicing the piano. Jotting down notes for an idea for a new series of paintings. These are small, doable tasks that, today, have moved me a little farther along on my creative journey. They remind me that I am putting down roots.
Yes, life is beautiful because I am singing my song.
The last few weeks, since my mother’s passing, have been rough. The worst part of all was the lack of sleep, but in the past few days that has improved considerably. And because I’m sleeping better, I’m feeling more like myself, anchored more firmly to my dreams.
“La vie est belle” (Life is beautiful) is a line in the song that hit me like an atom bomb today. Making my way towards the dry cleaner’s after work, protected by my umbrella from the light drizzle, I realized just how blessed I am. I have in my life friends and family who have supported and encouraged me, in good times and bad, no matter what the cost. Since I decided to leave the public service in 2004, I have focused on what matters most, what I’m passionate about — writing, painting, music — all in the pursuit of a dream. Almost a year ago I moved to a new city to be closer to the person who captured my heart, and that love still holds me strong.
There was a sense of peace, of being at one with the world as I sat down at this piano earlier this evening and practiced scales before diving into the selections I’ve chosen for my first public performance here in Sherbrooke. I put in a good hour at the piano before heading into the kitchen where I poured myself a glass of wine and prepared my supper. I am trying to fulfil my commitment to make myself at least one “gourmet” dinner a week. On tonight’s menu were fresh shrimp in a white wine, cream and basil sauce.
The evening is slowly winding down. Reading through a chapter of a manuscript this morning before work. Practicing the piano. Jotting down notes for an idea for a new series of paintings. These are small, doable tasks that, today, have moved me a little farther along on my creative journey. They remind me that I am putting down roots.
Yes, life is beautiful because I am singing my song.
I am sorry to miss the performance, but I am so looking forward to seeing you. A private concert would be lovely. All rhe best with your creative endeavors!
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