I had read a few days ago that the “Play me I’m yours” piano art display was happening here in Mesa and I wanted to see the pianos…all 24 of them, decorated by local artists and placed in a variety of areas around the city of Mesa. How exciting to see this kind of public art and have it invite me to play that piano. I took lessons as a child and loved the piano…the sound is soothing to me. And though I don’t play as well as I would like, I wanted to participate in this cultural, artistic event. And then I read that the pianos, all 24 of them, would be on display at the Mesa Arts Center for one Sunday afternoon, the kick-off for the installation of the pianos. Yay! With my camera ready to go, my husband and I set out with friends to see those pianos.
I had every intention of going to the kick-off for the “Play Me I’m Yours” piano display and blogging about the pianos, which all inspired me. And it was lovely to watch others sit down to these works of art and create more art through the music they played. My heart was loving this. I even sat down at a couple of the pianos and just played a little, not remembering any of the music I played all those years ago.
I took many pictures, all in anticipation of sharing what I was seeing, but one piano kept calling to me, pulling me back to it many times. It was not the most colorful of the pianos…it was all done in black and white. But to me, it was the most beautiful. It spoke to my very soul and to my voice.
Your voice matters.
And written on the piano was why the artists write. And it drew me in…..had me thinking about my writings now and throughout the years.
Why do I write?
As a child I kept a diary to record for eternity the memories that I was sure I would some day forget.
As a teen I wrote to heal, to deal with the pain, to find my voice when I was not aloud to voice my thoughts, feelings or emotions. I wrote long stories that some believed were works of fiction but I knew they were the truth hidden behind the voices of made-up characters. I wrote poetry, expressing all the emotions I kept inside of me.
As I grew into adulthood, I continued to write, to record the memories of the many trips we took, to record my thoughts and feelings about the world around me, and to record the many things I wanted to tell my boys. And I continued to write poetry to express my emotions. As I traveled my personal journey to lose the weight and finally deal with the baggage, I wrote to let go of the pain, to heal the child within me.
And now I write again, to share my story in the hopes that it may help someone who is now or has traveled that painful journey through abuse and loss. And I write in hopes that my stories can help others to understand those who are like me, that what is shown to the outside world is not necessarily what is truly going on, that we all have our own stories, our own burdens and deserve love, understanding, and second chances.
I write to record the memories of this life shared with my best friend, to remember the stories when we are old and our memories fade.
I write to show that you can come out of those dark days to the other side and have the life you have always wanted.
I write to celebrate all that is beautiful and glorious in this world we live in. What a wonderful life it is when our voice matters!