Consider the ravens. They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them.
It’s starting to get uncomfortably busy. There’s always someone else to visit, another person to catch up with. Projects have a way of finding me too; I’ll hear a song and decide that I need to make an arrangement, or someone will approach me for a website or video when they’re pursuing dreams of their own.
It’s the same way when it comes to figuring out what to eat lately. I open an empty fridge a half dozen times, each time thinking I’ll find a hidden cache of food that wasn’t there before, then someone will call me for dinner.
I’ve been fortunate enough to jam with a few people too, including Heather, who pulled out her cello for the first time in her adulthood to give me root notes on the baseline. One draw of the bow across those strings has convinced me that I want one of my own; the tones are rich and meaty, something you feel through the entire instrument, and especially the tension of the ribbon (and I thought the guitar was tactile). We even convinced Sergey to pick up some mallets and strike the keys of a glockenspiel with us, the first time in his life he’s ever played an instrument.
I’m looking forward to the Fall, when I have nothing else booked. Part of me wishes I could take a year off and lock myself in a cottage somewhere and work on my own projects without interruption, but I don’t mind so much right now. Luckily, the work is always fulfilling, regardless of whether it’s for me or not, because so often I get to collaborate with such wonderfully creative people. I just need to ride the delicate line between distraction and over-stimulation.