My plan to write and blog less has succeeded quite well, and I’ve found time to play as I planned earlier. I’ve also had time to read and do some singing, since the singing lessons started once again with the fall.
It’s been enjoyable to play the piano, not necessarily for the ears but to the mind. It’s pacifying to run fingers through scales, hit a note, and find a melody. They are all there: the notes. You don’t have to invent any.
Same as in writing: all the words already exist; you just have to put them in some kind of order. Or disorder. It’s up to you, and that’s the enchanting part of creating.
You’re able to do everything.
At least you can try. Attempt can also be satisfying, and you may notice that in the end the result means less. You don’t have to achieve to be content.
Doing is enough.