Today while driving back from Sundance (one of the most picturesque resorts I've ever seen, or maybe I'm biased since it's practically in my back yard) I asked my brother/best friend/acting DJ to put on a pretty song. He obliged with one caveat; I could not sing along.
Now you must know, I love to sing. even when I don't know the words. sometimes at church I get so caught up in the spirit of the song I forget which verse we're singing and since I have long since stopped using my hymnal proceed to butcher sacred songs... oops...
But...I agreed and he put on the song above. Now, writing this it occurs to me how rarely I just listen... to anything.
I've got a bad habit. It walks hand in hand with my control issues and goes something like 'that's nothing, listen to this'.
Over the years I have learned to disguise it, hide it, embellish it to seem more authentic, etc, etc.
Occasionally I remember that it's not a desirable quality, and then I shut my mouth.
And it's those times that I learn, and it's those times that I listen,
it's those times that I put my 2 cents back in my pocket and start to save up for a more worthwhile and expensive type comment.
After the chaotic nature of the last few days I was in major need for some quiet contemplative time. But I hadn't even consciously figured out how much I was contributing to the noise...
So we listened to the song without encroaching on it and without giving it our artistic liberties.
Then... as we drove the windy road through the snowcapped mountains towards the misty sunset (to be read like Buddy the Elf in describing his voyage to New York)...
I remembered something about gifts and Christmas.
Christ was a gift. The gift I should say.
And I finally figured out a way to honor that which feels most authentic to me.
I'll simply shut my mouth, do the work and listen.