I wonder how many words fall in a day?  Jotted on restaurant receipts, scraps torn from junk mail, random paper wrappers, and rumpled napkins in the console? Word jewels we string on heart chords that never meet paper… or ears… or souls. We let them slip. For so many reasons and non-reasons. Fallen away. What if we cupped them? Caught them? Gave them breath?

Today I chose to catch the words in my fingers. Today they began a song. Those words stringing together— concept to conjuring—to that deep place in our souls where music grows. More than a thought, or a letter, or even a poem.

Sometimes words are the music that is muse.

And others… the muse that is music.

That place where we create and learn more of how we were created in the same beat of a moment. The same breath of the unspoken. Heartbeats turned to rhythm and words. Heart chords tuned to melody and harmony.

It’s a new space for me. The little girl with dark braids who found friends in Shakespeare and Dickinson. It’s a new dimension to release transparent words to movement. Music reaches a hidden garden of its own and stirs us new when we least expect it.

I glance back at Grandma’s jars. Long rays of waning summer light. Yeah. There’s new to embrace. But those dark braids with country roots and boots. The girl who loves daisies, goes by “Half-pint”, bakes old-fashioned cookies, sits on the porch, and rides in the center seat of the truck. She still pens words in the night air and treasures a strong hand or embrace more than any word. New chapters. Same girl.

What about you? Maybe that new chapter is who you’ve been growing to be all this time—layer upon layer. Maybe that new chapter will touch lives and hearts you can only imagine today. Maybe that new chapter not only changes your life, but gives Life to someone else. Because you are brave enough for the new thing.

Ready to write the music?