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Writing 101 Day 3 – Three Songs

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Today’s assignment is Day 3: Commit to a writing practice - Write about the three most important songs in your life -- what do they mean to you? Today, try free writing. To begin, empty your mind onto the page. Don't censor yourself; don't think. Just let go. Let the emotions or memories connected to your three songs carry you. 

So here we go...

I’m not a traditionalist so when it came to planning my wedding I aimed to eschew with as much tradition as possible mainly because of old fashioned wedding tradition has got to do with wives obeying husbands and such things. Those of you who know me, will know I was having none if it! I wanted to get married to a wonderful man, share my life with him. That’s all.

The song I chose to walk down the aisle (yes yes I know what you’re thinking, I got married in a church, mainly because my Mom wished it to be so and when parents are paying for the wedding there are some things that I had to let go of) was not the wedding march but Procol Harum’s Whiter Shade of Pale.

The organist was very excited to play a different song and had fun writing the sheet music for the organ. So why the Whiter Shade of Pale then? It’s a beautiful song, I like the melody and the lyrics are very mysterious. I’m not one of those people that reads much into the song lyrics, I often don’t remember them only the choruses. I just like what it sounds like.

Michael Jackson’s Thriller is the second song that comes to mind. It’s the ultimate party song that gets me up and dancing when it comes on the radio or the DJ plays it. The video blew me away, it was long, I adored the story and the dancing…wow! It had me, along with thousands of others trying to copy the moves. It still blows me away whenever I see it all these years later. It reminds me of my teenage years, finding my own taste in music (other than my parents’).

One by U2 surprises me each time. I surprise myself with how it surprises me. It starts off so softly, so gently and then surprises me with its power. With Mary J Blige singing it along with Bono the roof literally comes down. This song changes my state instantly. It puts me in a hopeful and inspired state, it uplifts me every single time. I’ve watched many versions of this song on YouTube, each one subtly different to the last one. When it comes on the radio while I’m on my way to work I turn up the volume and move to it.

Well this was fun and scary at the same time, uninterrupted writing, no editing. I’m publishing. If you’re reading this, be gentle. 
#justsaying, Portugal, Writing

A room with a view

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The car sped through the narrow road, dodging oncoming traffic and narrowly missing cars in front it… and the kerbside. The driver, my late cousin’s boyfriend drove, maniacally, totally unaware of the havoc he was causing in the nervous system of its passengers.

He was driving completely unsafely, blissfully unaware of road signs and the white middle line dividing the road into 2 lanes. Hooters sounded and he carried on talking, a non-stop narrative of the history of the countryside and its attractions.

My Grandmother, in the front seat, listened and gave encouraging sounds, hoping that she’d be distracted from danger we were in.  My sister and I, crammed into the back-seat of the small red Fiat thought that this holiday to Portugal would be our last.

My  white knuckled hands gripped the back of the driver’s seat. My sister seemed to be serenely looking out the window, trying not to look ahead at an impending frontal collision.

We were on our way north from Lisbon, to visit some of the spectacular beaches on the Portuguese Atlantic coast.

We stopped at a few beaches, thankfully climbing out of the car for a brief time to look at the scenery, before nervously getting back into the car to get to our next stop.

At midday our enthusiastic driver pulled into a small village for lunch…and there, perched almost on the edge of the cliffside was an abandoned church, a ruin of a building, its ancient walls rough but still intact, and no roof!

As I walked into the church a physical silence surrounded me like I had been transported to another place. I remember feeling bewildered at the silence that enveloped the place, the voices outside seeming to be coming from a distance. The sun shone through the broken beams of the roof and cast its slat-like rays through the dust swirls onto the ground.

I walked through the centre aisle, the pews dusty and realised with surprise that people still went there to worship. And I totally understood why. There was a peace, a serenity, a holiness about that place that made me feel at one with the universe.  I lingered a while but not long enough. I haven’t been back since.

It was as though that church, without its roof, with its dusty pews, and black veiled village women praying under the rays of the sun was put there to help me realise that there is a higher power at play.

If I could zoom to another place right now it would be to this abandoned church high atop an Atlantic cliffside on the coast of Portugal. I don’t remember the name of the village or the church, but this place is one I visit often in my mind when I am in need of peace, solace and a re-connection with myself.