Music; voices; the Question

A very clear indication that crossing my employment Rubicon was the right decision...

I can just sit down, any time I want to, and start writing music. And music... just flows. Easily. And beautifully. I've been living in Creative Drought Hell, for at least three years—maybe more—only extracting a few drops here and there, when it used to come in a Ten-Commandments-Parting-The-Red-Sea-grade flood.

But now, if I want to create music, I just sit and write. And write. And write.

'Course, with the decision to change your income source comes the closer-every-day deadline to find a new source. And, sad to say, with the M.S. has come very, very clear indications of roads that can no longer be taken. But, I must say, some of those roads, I've spent way too much time already, and M.S. or not, I'm done with them, so being unable to re-travel them because of The Disease... well, that is a gift of M.S., isn't it?

We M.S.ers, we confront so much sorrow in the face of the long list of "what you can't do any more." But each time that this very firm (and, we think, uncaring in its firmness) voice tells us "You can't go that way anymore!" there is also a sweet and gentle voice—one that is hard to hear, given the shouting of the first voice—that is softly telling us "No... go this way, instead."

So, that is my new mission. Yes, I'm going to be doing some homework, calling the M.S. Society with some logistical questions; talking to my creative/supportive team about some ideas we're kicking around; and whenever possible, definitely writing some music. But my real mission is to listen. Now that I've stopped the internal noise of struggling in a fight I never should have been having in the first place, I can listen for the voice of the Universe; listening for the answer to the question that all of us M.S.ers whisper quietly, and often shout angrily, all the time:

"OK... What now?"

There is an answer, for each of us, for all of us; and for me. And to hear it, all I have to do...

is listen.