Inspiration rarely strikes me at convenient times, and last Saturday was no exception. 

I woke up at 5 am that day because I wanted to get in a little time at the piano before I had to go cook a bonfire brunch with my restaurant team at a forest preserve.  (Like we do). 

At 6:30 am, a song started pouring out of me. I only had 15 minutes to get it done. I grabbed a pen and paper and started trying to write it all down.   

Before I got a chance to finish, I had to leave to go to work.  As I pulled down the driveway, I felt resentful.  

Work always gets in the way.  There's never any time for me to do what I want to do.  WHEN'S MY TIME?!? 

By the time I got to the forest preserve, I forced myself to stop thinking about the song, and I got to work.  No sense being a sad sack. So I hauled all the food over to the bonfire pits.  I set up my station--soft-boiled eggs--and listened to Spotify while I boiled the water and waited for our customers to arrive.   

While hovering over my dutch oven, a song came on that I hadn't heard before.  It was a minor waltz. It shook me to my core.  The song I had written earlier that morning was a major waltz, and the bonfire tune got me thinking about how much better it would sound if my half-written morning song was minor. 

After cooking all morning, I went home, ready to tackle the tune I had started in a whole different way.  The completed song was great, way better than it would have been if I had finished it the way it began.  

Feeling lucky that I didn't have time to get my way. 

Reader, if any of this sounds familiar to you, let's just put it out here: just because things aren't going as planned, doesn't mean anything's wrong.  Who knows? Maybe things are rolling out the way they're supposed to.  

I'll always be grateful for the soft-boiled egg lesson this week.  See you next Monday. -Em