the soundtrack of this season // freewrite

i'm learning (it's ongoing, as it all is) that the background matters. i mean it in the way of music and lyrics and noise. these things of the background, well, they become the soundtrack. they set the tone, cast the light, create the mood.

happy music plays, and we smile.

ominous music plays, our hearts race.

two people turn to look eye to eye, and if it's twinkling piano in the background, we feel hope, yet if the bass thrums low and the drums beat loud, we feel anxious.

do you see how the background matters?

when i want to write, it's only ambient noise or soft instrumental tracks that can play. it can't be words, because then i can't find my own.

when i want to read the Word, it's only silence around me, because any noise might drown out His voice.

when i want to clean, it's peppy music that makes me dance, because it's good to make the chores a dance-filled thing.

it affects us more than we realize, these backgrounds. i think we feel invincible in our environments, not quite acknowledging just how much power they can hold over how we feel.

what comes out of our mouths is the overflow of our hearts, but what are we putting into our hearts? what we put into our lives roots there, in those hearts, so we should note it (pun intended) and adjust it, don't you think?

the background matters.

the soundtrack of an hour becomes a bit of the soundtrack of a day which becomes a chunk of the soundtrack of a life, and what does it all add up to?

i keep thinking about rhythms, about what it means to create steady ones, about what it looks like to find a groove in life.

i keep thinking about songs and soundtracks and the music that makes up our seasons, our days, the meaningful moments.

right now, my song is slow and poignant, because my heart is still mourning and grieving and wrestling. it sounds like cellos and an upright bass, like violins layered in close, like an oboe carrying a sad tune in that plaintive way above it all, with clear piano bringing hope to my ears even still.

it sounds like rain drops falling on dusty ground, like rustling leaves that bring chills to my arms, like a low rumble of thunder rolling away, like those old distant arizona coyotes howling to the moon that still shines in the storm.

it sounds like prayers whispered in a dark room, like the soft spill of tears on a satin pillowcase, like pages turning as the pen scratches.

and yet, there are still moments a lighter tune takes flight, soaring above the rest with its purity and optimism and joy. there are still beats that make me want to dance and twirl, there are still slivers of something so rich and so deeply good that i just want to sit with my eyes closed and smile as it washes over me.

this is the song of my now. muddy in parts, but bright in others. low and slow mostly, but thrumming with possibility. discord for now, but still harmonies click into place in surprising stanzas.

this week, as you go, notice your backgrounds. set your soundtrack with intention and listen as it plays out in your days.