All My Days

I don’t know a lot. I know a little of some things and a lot of general crap that is only useful in a pub quiz. I don’t know my own gut. I never stretched that muscle all that often. I don’t know how to feel most of the time. I know what is ‘appropriate behavior’, but that is not always the reaction in my lungs. So I swallow it down. Make them happy. Show gratitude. I know that’s what they want to see. I know they mean well. I don’t know any other way to be.

Sometimes when I listen to Alexi Murdoch, I know what it feels like to love, to be loved. To be held and it not feel forced or uncomfortable. I know the feeling. And yet I cannot explain this to anyone. Not without, “You’re not trying” smashed back in my face. Give it all you got. But what if it’s not got what I want to get.

I hear a simple melody over plucked strings and basic cords. I hear words sung in deep soothing tones. I feel a blanket of warmth surround me. It feels familiar and right. It’s where I want to be. But I don’t know where it is. I just wonder if it is here. I know maybe I don’t know.

Thanks to Alexi Murdoch for helping me hear my heart.

About channahboo

I was once a Yorkshire lass, I guess I still am, but after moving to London and then on to Tel Aviv, New York and then back to Tel Aviv again, I wonder how much of the Yorkshire lass is left. The adventure continues and although many see my life as an extended episode of Seinfeld (you are free to laugh), I can also empathise with the Buddhist thought of life as our punishment. I guess the important part is the love that you carry with you through life’s journey and my back often feels the joyous strain of the weight of the love I carry.
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