Life of a Musician: Calloused Hands

I’ve wondered many times in my life why I continue to be a musician. Bands have come and gone, musicians and friends have done much of the same. We all keep going on living our lives in our little corner of the world and songs slowly fade away into the years that have gone by. Our voices have become quieter over the years and our instruments have gathered dust. 
Yet, still I always return to these things. No matter where I seem to be in my life, there is an aching that always takes me back to that place, to that guitar, to those piano keys. I’d like to think that I could run away from them forever; for what reason I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s the idea of being able to conquer something that has been my ghost for so long. It has followed in my footsteps through every downfall and every triumph of my life. It has been my constant companion when I couldn’t see three feet in front of me and only wanted to turn back and run away as fast as my feet would carry me. 
My hands ache to have those calloused hands that signify the long days playing a guitar. I long to be able to close my eyes and let my hands guide my heart and soul across the piano keys. I’ve come to places in my life where if I didn’t put pen to paper and gotten the lyrics out of my soul, I would have surely gone crazy. There have been times where I can’t seem to write fast enough. Where the lyrics pour out of me from places in my heart that I didn’t even know existed. Then there are the seasons, much like the last few years, where I have to fight with everything within me just to pen a few lines.  Life has a funny way of dictating the flood or the famine. 
I do believe as an artist it is important to be heard. I also believe that these words and the progression of notes were meant to not only reside in my basement or in the pages of my tattered moleskine. My sanity, the point in which I feel truly alive, is when I open my mouth and let those songs live. If only it were that easy most of the time. It is a struggle, a daily battle between not having enough time in the day and having the life sucked out of me in the office. It is a process, one that shouldn’t be taken lightly. It is an aching, where one feels their heart strings pulled as they walk right past the piano and out the door to live their adult life. 
Today, I realize the importance of not running away from that ache. 

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