On finding contentment

I didn't want this time of my life to be remembered as "the time that I had the time to write, read, crochet, draw, study languages for fun, and practice instruments other than my primary instrument, but didn't take advantage of it" so I am insisting that I pick up some projects I had wandered away from and work on them again. I haven't gotten to all of them yet and I might not; I almost never manage to quite do as much as I expect, probably because my expectations don't tend to be very realistic.

However, in just having done what I've done in the past few days, I am feeling an increasing sense of peace and contentment. I remember why I liked doing these things in the first place; they rearrange my insides somehow, into something more -- I'm not sure what the word is. More settled, perhaps; more peaceful, less troubled, less wallowing in unhelpful thoughts and more giving things an outlet and a place to exist outside of my own mind.

As I'm writing this, I remember that that's why I wanted to pursue the arts in the first place. Because I need it as my own sort of soul-therapy, but also because I want to give that help to other people. If I have sat in the audience of a concert feeling thoughts and emotions well up inside me and get expressed through the music, things I wasn't even letting myself notice I was feeling, but that I needed to feel, and then walked out feeling more whole, more like a person-- well, that's what I want to do for other people, if I can. I just hope that I remember that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some crocheting to do in the few minutes before I go to bed.