I do not expect the children of this world to have contemplated jazz or been part of some funk or the other. But then again, I do not expect the children of this world to be following my blog either, at least not yet, which is why I venture into writing this lofty but still crucial point as to how Joel the singing frog came to be.
What do you think of the morning? Do you know what is best about it? I cannot stand in your shoes to answer my question, but if I had to voice for myself, I believe that the most incredible thing about the morning is the fact that one can empathize with it. It’s a time of the day that actually gives your money’s worth and it gives you that for free. A rainy day to me is dull and gloomy, a representation of inactivity, a day in which I won’t go out to play. It could be recognized as a source of life, of freshness and hope and sustenance, but not to me. That’s exactly what the morning does to me – gives me the unbeatable feeling that it’s a new day, every day.
We assume life to be this stock-market curve, what with its bulls and bears and burns and bruises. But it’s clear of all continuity, it actually offers us a chance that way and it does that every morning. We wake up, we feel the sun on our faces and it helps widen our eyes by cringing it further, helps beat some sleep and wakes us up to what awaits. And there is this lull, a static period where everything goes quiet and there’s time to restructure, to reorganize and rank our armies right. Moments where the past is but a jagged visual of this desolate movie that we once watched, one that doesn’t deserve much of disk space and so we have our random access clear of worries and worms.
A time when, for me, all is clear and I see every little thing for exactly what it is and nothing else at all. And that’s exactly what I intend to bring out with this song – an intended ray of hope, more self-directed than ever.
It’s a good day. Every day.
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