Janine Valentine

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Sunday Vinyl

Mmmm… Sunday morning

Gently dawning.

My body stretching,

Instinctively sensing

The spaciousness of the sacred arrival

Of time set aside for my Sunday Vinyl.

 

Strong coffee brewed,

Pondering my mood.

Warm mug encased in my hands.

Freshly emerged from dreamland.

My fingers meander as I peruse my collection

Intuitively pausing to make a selection.

 

Vinyl makes music tangible - engaging the senses,

Blurring tenses.

Past and present merge,

Souls converge.

 

Feel the weight of the disc

In my fingertips.

Remove the sleeve, carefully undressing

Perhaps revealing a colorful pressing.

The record is spinning in anticipation

I drop the needle with gentle precision.

Music coaxed from the grooves

My body instinctively moves.

The pops and crackles

Suggestive of time travels.

The click as the needle auto-retracts

when it hits the center of dead wax.

 

Vinyl requires us to participate,

To linger and wait.

Flip to side B

And explore deeper with me.

No passive background or endless playlist

But actively choosing what will play next.

 

The sounds evoke visions,

Constructing bridges

Thru time and space.

Barriers erased.

Transported to a smoky blues bar from a time before me,

Or perhaps the south of Spain with a guitarist by the sea.

 

 

Immersion in the experience.

Experience the immersion.

I am in rhythm,

Receiving wisdom.

Waxing nostalgia as memories arise

Layered under the songs of our lives.

Sharing stories and connection,

Introspection and reflection.

Tears and laughter flow…

These are the gifts that Sunday Vinyl bestows.