I do it a lot.
Of course I do it in my own unique way.
There is always music.
The first thing I do is find the right music.
"I haven't got a song to fit me mood," John Lennon thoughtfully said before launching into "GOD," one of his masterpieces.
Once I find it, right now it's "Deep Cuts" from albums recorded in the 1960s, I take my shirt off and get to work.
The normal routine is to update my Facebook status with a song title, Tweet, check LinkedIn, read the headlines from "The Onion" which make me laugh then "The Atlanta Journal Constitution" which makes me sad and then ... Sarah's rushing Laurel and Cass to the car so I get up to kiss her again, remind her to be "Be safe," tell the girls bye though they don't care because they're in too big a hurry to get this day started.
Goddess and Winston, the little gay dog, wait on my return. They don't bother getting up to say bye to the girls.
Sitting back down, I start "losing laundry" ... meaning more clothes come off.
Resuming my seat ... I sit ... and wait... in silence ... with Jethro Tull's excellent song "Up to Me" blaring away from the computer which I intend to write on ... while I watch the sun rise ... listen to the Cicada sing ... feel the ocean breeze ... watch the leaves dance ... hear the world come to life with the rest of us.
Then something happens.
Inspiration hits. God says something. My fingers take on lives of their own. Whacking away at the keyboard, I lose everything happening around me ... there's no music ... no Cicada ... no ocean breeze ... no dancing leaves ...
I am one with the words.
I whisper them as they come to life ... making them prayer ... transcending everything around me.
An hour or lifetime later, Sarah returns home and I jump up to get another kiss to two ... or more.
Most of the time she's ready to get to work at the quiet end of the house.
She doesn't like my music playing while she works.
Unless she has something to say. Then she says it until she's satisfied I've heard it regardless of whether or not I heard it the first time.
When this happens, I've learned it's best to keep quiet.
Even if I say something like, "Oh, I know Babes," ... that just convinces her I haven't heard a damn thing she's said so she says it all over again ... and again.
When she finishes, she gets to work in silence and I may not see or hear from her again for hours.
I return to the Back Deck where Goddess and Winston, the little gay dog, are waiting and grooving to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young confess they "Almost Cut my hair. It happened just the other day."
But now the words are waiting ... drawing me back into another world ... where it is silent ... and Godly things spark from my fingertips as I lapse into prayer.
That is my day.
Every day.
