Timetables and Tambourines

I have a blogging schedule I don’t follow. To be honest, it’s a lot of starting of blog posts and not finishing them for one reason or another. This blog post could have been one of those, but it isn’t. I have a publishing schedule for my magazine that I tend to follow. It helps that I have the best Content Editor ever who really keeps me accountable. I have a meal regimen and medicine discipline that I follow for dear life.

But everything tends to follow a schedule. There’s daily schedules from that first moment I wake up to that last moment when I fall to sleep--or forcefully get myself to sleep with the aid of some calming music. There’s weekly schedules that dictate the beginning and end of my week such as church functions, work duties, groceries, laundry, and the occasional day of laze.

But is there a rhythm to my schedules? I remember one time I inherited a tambourine from the guitar store. It was a precious instrument to me because I received it from a good friend. And because through its unpredictable but controllable sound I could reflect emotions that I couldn’t quite put into words at the time.

Well I tried. I wrote this one poem that went something like… “Fire. / <incessant rattling of the tambourine>. / Silence.” Needless to say, I never heard the end of it and my ‘creativity’ or ‘lack of’ with my tambourine poem.

But if the rhythm of my life were an instrument, it most definitely is a tambourine. There’s an incessant rattling of thought and nervousness that wakes me in the morning. It vibrates and conjugates into actions that make together the events of my day. And not quite like my poem, the rattling doesn’t cease during the night. It simmers until it’s called into being in the morning once again.

And that’s why I don’t sleep. Just kidding it’s one of the reasons I don’t sleep. I should buy myself another tambourine.


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