The Beatles came at the beginning of my formative years.  I have older siblings so there was other music introduced to me before the Beatles.  I liked some of their earlier stuff but never quite got into the screaming, hormonal condition of so many fans.  Previously music was not so much about the lyrics for me as it was about the notes.  Playing an instrument in school gave me the opportunity to feel into the music itself.  There were lots of songs I sang around the house, singing parts with mumbled sounds when the words escaped me, dancing with the record covers in my hands so the words were close, and then there was one song whose phrases just stuck.

“Yesterday ”

All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday……

There’s a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

I knew this was about a love gone wrong but that is not what I heard or what struck me deepest.  I was 12.  The concept of love that had come and gone was non-existent.  I hadn’t been bitten yet!  It was the concept of ‘Yesterday’.  How it was a specific time in space.  It wasn’t just about memories.  It marked events.  It could mark you.  It carried a “Danger, Will Robinson, Danger sign.  It became a rite of passage for me.  “Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away.”  Yet there was another aspect to Yesterday.  It could change today and tomorrow.  It could return to haunt you or drive you further.  It was something to be reckoned.  It could stop you.  You could get stuck in it.

Allowing yesterday to determine your identity left you stuck and only partial of the self you were.  It does become a shadow, casting out the light of today, the mist of tomorrow, holding you captive.  There is an art to turning yesterday into today.  It isn’t an art only open to lyricists, painters, and writers.  Oh no, it is available to all who want to live to the fullest possible self.

As others fell deeper in love with John, Paul, and George I fell to pondering their lyrics and those of others.  I took to analyzing all songwriters as my world grew.  What were they doing with these lyrics?  Where they writing with a higher energy bringing metaphors and symbols to waken me, stop me in my tracks, push and pull me when I grew tired, or were they just singing what I felt deep inside.  There were some genres I did not resonate with no matter how often I listened.  Some music struck me but the words repulsed me.  It was those who wrote with the same cadence of essence as “Yesterday”.  The same mysticism in the lyrics of that song appeared in other songwriters.  It was those songs that stuck a chord deep within me.  A chord that cautioned me on miring myself deeper when I should be moving forward.  Years later I can still feel that mark of time, that essence of those simple lyrics whenever it is played.

Music played its secondary roll of fun, stages, and road trips all through my life as it does for all of us.  I can dance for hours, sing at the top of my lungs completely out of tune, joyous in the moment every time I hear music.  It brings back days of youth, special occasions, love won and lost but it is the mysticism that holds my soul.  It is the timelessness, the universality and connectedness.

Awake your soul!  Let Yesterday be yesterday!






Dance forever

“May I have this dance?” reaching out his hand to me, I trembled with a nervous excitement.  Dad had helped me to learn the few steps necessary.  I never really imagined anyone would come and actually ask me.  Stuttering my acceptance I reached for his hand rising as if I had lead feet I found myself jerking towards the dance floor.  Gracefully he returned me to my seat, thanking me for the dance and moving on to the next girl.  Excited from completing a task well practiced I was surprised to see how I felt.  Invigorated, twinkling, elated I marveled at the complexity of emotions.  The desire to continue to twirl was so overpowering.  Concerned I would slip and succumb to my inner urges I excused myself from the dance.  Standing outside I danced in the moonlight releasing the emotions to the world.  I trembled afterwards and knew that what had just happened opened me to a very special place.  It was a secret place deep within me.

Hearing the music call me I returned hoping to be invited to the dance floor once again.  It wasn’t long before the invitation arrived.  Music reverberates through the room requesting I return to my secret place.  Darting glances at the others on the floor, hoping to receive permission, I noticed the boy across from me was dancing with abandon.  My body moves in response to him.  Raw ancient excitement fills me granting permission to myself I spin and move to the music.  Smiling we move in sync enjoying the communion.  Together we return to my seat, ‘how did you learn to dance like that? You are fantastic.  Could you teach me?’ breathlessly he asks.  Amazed at his statement I begin to giggle a reply of my 2 weeks of lessons with my dad.  He shakes his head, ‘well you are really good’, and wanders to the next chair.

Heading home I relinquish any doubt that this newly found desire can be squished back into the unknown.  I have discovered that dance is me.  It is a way to express myself, to connect to something I can feel but has no name, and allows me a connection to myself .  Now the question is how can I get more?

Discover the wealth of adventure, the mystery of intrigue, the spontaneity of self, and the delight of laughter in dance.  One can through dance find an inner connection to self.

Move it baby, move it!  Don’t let anything delay you!  Keep that rhythm, keep that soul!  Take it deeper!



Seriously buckwheat?  Why in the world would that be the word for my “B” post?  Because!


“I want pancakes, I want pancakes!”  Screamed my inner child as I yawned and stretched pouring liquid gold into my cup.  The older saner adult perused the request for flaws.  Pancakes are consumed at the risk of hips and hearts.  Filling the stomach with all matters of putrid ingredients unbecoming a highly educated adult and lacking the sensible choices of a refined palate, I chose to go with the adult.  Completely non-plussed, “I want pancakes, I want pancakes!!”  chirped the inner child.  Strolling upon the scene the always wise 20-something chimed in, ‘Buckwheat is nectar from heaven.  It is not a wheat.  It is actually a fruit and grrreat for your cholesterol!  Lots of fiber, top with sliced pear to sweeten and Bam you’ve hit a home run. Or we could just play

and perhaps distract her?’

Not knowing what I truly wanted to do except to consume more liquid gold, I gave in and began the search.  My inner child distracted by the morning dance with 20-something missed the compilation of ingredients for buckwheat pancakes the nectar of adults.  Amidst the jubilation of her inner most desires being met once again, I turned and pondered, what had I been feeding myself.  Was the food worth the effort?  Was my strict adherence to “all things best” really what fed my soul?  Could combining all the wisdom and desires of all aspects of self be the super nutrient?  What was I lacking in my soul diet?

Sitting and savoring this incredible often misunderstood food, I realized what fed me …  joy.



Copyright © 2014 Teri Connolly. All Rights ReservedB