Layers. My brain works in layers. And patterns, but that one’s a different thought exercise. Today I hear the layers.

Grabbing coffee, iPad, Spotify, and the dogs… my current favorite thing involves sitting on the front porch as the world wakes up. Most days there’s still a deliciously sweet breeze from hours of darkness. The slow suffocation by humidity remains an hour or two away.

Today there’re four layers. All sound; three are winged creatures. Highest: gulls. Chattering away telling of the food stuffs begged off of whom, where. Lower, in tree tops: song birds. I hear roughly 4-5 species. Dan would have identified all of them. I can only say, with certainty, there aren’t doves, owls, woodpeckers, or bobwhites singing this morning… because I know those. (Four known bird sounds, great. Lol.) And, a constant white noise background buzz: cicadas. That wing rubbing, high pitched murmur that makes you wonder whether you’re ears are ringing or you’re actually hearing something alive.

My sound tablecloth: smooth mellowness playing very low. A genre of music – I knew before him – but that I found mentioned in love letters to-from Dan and college sweethearts, after his death. As a younger person, I would have been too insecure, too jealous to explore and embrace his earlier life. Now, there’s comfort in going there. You don’t stop learning about a person when they’re gone. I would have never guessed that truth. Perspective.

The music makes me happy. I’m reborn by being able to listen to music again. Allowing it to nurture, break, heal these deepest wounds. For about 9 months I couldn’t listen to music. The pain of memory so keenly physical… the efforts of reality so overwhelming… tears weren’t an option. I wasn’t ready to go there. Focus reserved only on each next right step. Finding normal. Stability. Routing course.

There was, and still remains, a certain comfort and safety in locking my heart away. Full admission? I find myself wanting to just leave it there. Locked away, secure. Not hurting; no uncertainty. Granting me calm, cool, collected day-to-days.

Shakily, begrudgingly but gladly, I accept that’s not the answer.

Bring the body and the mind will follow. Learned that saying ½ a lifetime ago in Shotokan karate. Training numerous hours/day, often 7 days/week… a good portion of the time switching off the thinker box was the only way to get there. Do as you know to do, results follow.

And so, I step out. Pretend you don’t see me when I trip and fall. I know I will. I learn by doing, not by reading or listening. Don’t know a dog’s been near until I step in their crap. Yeah, literally, obvs. Finding rhythm takes me a few too many practice rounds.

There are lots of things you can know – about yourself and others – once you recognize/understand the truths/validity of proceeding layers. Luckily, at this age and stage I get to take all my preceding layers (lessons) with me into the day… and tomorrow. Glory be!