Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Yearning for Song

I was talking with my dad earlier today and he made a comment that he was saddened when I gave up music because it was something I had a passion for.  Why did I give up music?  I don’t know that I did it intentionally.  Life happened.  The thing was, I never thought that anyone else cared.  I thought that it was always something that I loved that everybody else rolled their eyes at.  Driving home I remember a friend of mine’s dad who once asked me some years after high school if I had kept singing and I said that I sung lullabies to my kid but that was it.  He seemed let down that I was no longer singing.  I didn’t remember ever singing in front of him.  I always assumed he was thinking of someone else.
Music was a part of my life from the time that I was in early elementary school until I left high school.  No matter what travesties life set before me, there was always music…and the written word but that is another subject all together.  I was in school choirs and after-school choirs.  I sung on street corners with fellow vocalists, but always knew my voice was just okay.  Not measuring up for a spot in the elite choir in my high school, confirmed my suspicions.   I sung at a local open mic night, preformed for solo ensemble, and tried to work with fellow musicians. I was always brushed off.  Maybe I missed opportunities because I was uncertain or misunderstood someone.  Most of the time I just assumed I wasn’t talented or “cool” enough.  I was never the party girl type.
The last few years has brought a deep yearning for music.  Somewhere deep inside me I feel a hole that can only be filled with sorrowful wails and groovy beats, guitar riffs and violin solos.  I turned the volume up to eleven and try to immerse myself in the undulating waves of musical vibrations.  It is not enough.  I miss singing and being around people who exude music.  I still feel like an interloper.  So I will just turn the music up real loud and sing in the car and to my children at night, hoping that is enough to quell the weary yearn inside.
An old friend of mine use to say that if no one knew she was there, if no one knew what she did, she didn’t exist, not in their world, and that bothered her.  I think I understand what she was saying a little more now.  I still feel like what I do is not important to anyone but me.  No one needs what I do. I am just here, making noise and that is not enough. 
Sarah McTernen

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