A morning Wrapped in Music and stillness.

 Good morning, my dear readers—wherever you are and however you’re feeling, I hope today is treating you gently.

This morning has been one of those quiet, sacred kinds of mornings. You know the ones. Not loud or rushed. Not full of appointments or expectations. Just soft. Simple. Soulful.

I woke up with a little headache—one of those dull, hormonal ones that seems to camp out behind the eyes. It wasn’t unbearable, but it definitely made its presence known. Still, I moved slowly and gently, reminding myself that I don’t always have to show up at 100%. Sometimes, just being is enough.

Like I do most mornings, I shared coffee time with my stepdad. That’s our special ritual. It’s our rhythm, like a favorite melody we never get tired of playing. We don’t need much—just a warm cup, a few stories, and, of course, music. And not just any music—real music. Timeless music.

Today we played the sounds of Lionel Richie, Sting from The Police, Barbra Streisand, and Neil Diamond. These voices hold so much feeling. They’ve lived. They’ve loved. They’ve lost. They’ve felt. And when they sing, you feel it too—deep in your chest, down in your soul. There’s something so powerful about starting your day with those kinds of voices in the room. It’s like surrounding yourself with old friends who already know what your heart needs.

After our morning time together, I moved to my bedroom, taking that warmth with me. I turned on my Alexa and let the sound of soft thunderstorms fill the room. The gentle rain, the low rumbles in the distance—it all wrapped around me like a lullaby. I actually drifted off for a bit, letting the sounds calm my body and spirit. Sometimes your body just says, "Rest now," and you have to listen.

When I woke back up, I wasn’t ready for silence, so I tuned into one of my all-time favorites: Atlanta’s own Jazz Station, WCLK 91.9 FM. That station has been a constant in my life. The richness of the instruments, the rhythm of the bass lines, the way each note seems to breathe—it’s like therapy through sound. Jazz doesn’t just fill the room. It soaks into it. It makes you feel things without needing words. Right now, even as I write this, I’ve got my own jazz playlist flowing through my speakers, giving this moment a soundtrack.

And you know what I realized? This morning wasn’t just a lazy day or a moody start. It was a gift. A real, sacred moment of connection—with my family, with music, with stillness, and with myself. It reminded me that healing doesn’t always come in grand gestures. Sometimes it shows up in a cup of coffee, in a soft voice on the radio, in the beat of a quiet jazz song, or in the hush of distant thunder.

So if you’re reading this and your morning feels heavy, or your mind is a little foggy, or your heart’s just tired—let this post be a gentle reminder. It’s okay to slow down. It’s okay to breathe. It’s okay to let music hold you for a while. Your peace is sacred, and you’re allowed to protect it.

With all my love,
Kamala 💜
Disability & Hearing Advocate, Lover of Sound, and Believer in Stillness


🌿
A Morning Like Music
By Kamala Siobhan Milton

The coffee was warm, the light was low,
A hush in the room, a sweet morning glow.
We sat with our mugs, no need to rush,
Letting the world wake up in a hush.

Lionel whispered of dancing all night,
While Barbra sang softly of love’s quiet light.
Neil told his stories, Sting hummed along,
Each voice a thread in our woven song.

The music, it wrapped us like arms made of sound,
Lifting the ache without making a sound.
My headache still lingered, soft at my eyes,
But thunder rolled in like a lullaby.

Alexa played raindrops and sky's distant moan,
And somehow the silence never felt alone.
I drifted to sleep, with peace in the air,
As if even the pain was held in care.

Then jazz filled the corners when I awoke,
Each note like a promise, each rhythm spoke.
WCLK, with its gentle grace,
Reminded me life moves at its own pace.

This wasn’t just rest, or time passing by,
It was healing in moments we can’t quantify.
So I’ll hold this morning, tender and true—
A symphony made of all that I knew.

From coffee and classics, to rainfall and brass,
It all came together like dew on the grass.
A morning like music, soft as a sigh,
That asked me to feel… not just to get by.
🌿

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