This morning at the convenience store I heard Paul McCartney singing “Blackbird,” and it transported me to 1968, a sixteen-year-old kid trying to pick it out on the guitar.
McCartney later said the song was about the Civil Rights movement in the United States, but in 1968 I just new it was magical. It’s still magical all these years later.
The joy of music and its transformative power reminds me of the experience of writing words on paper. For it, too, kindles a fire in the soul, takes us backward or forward in time.
Somewhere, and I know not where it is, in a world of the spirit, words and music reside together, waiting for a person to tune in and enjoy them.
Tune in to the eternal? To the temporal? Who knows?
But who can deny the beauty of the moment when a song, or lyrics, or words you write on paper grab you and won’t let you go?
That’s what writing can be to everyone who will give it a try, and stay out of the way of its healing power.
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