Well, I did yesterday. Accidentally while eating cheese doodles (not the neon orange kind). And then I sang in Hebrew at choir practice. I've always liked the song about living in peace and unafraid...but I'm also playing a tambourine, which means I might end up lip sinking my part...maybe. Depends on if I can wrap my right and left brain together.
I usually sing with left brain, (rational logical way) reading each note and word as I go...and seldom feel I know the music enough to let go and run in a right brain modality (more emotional I think, and certainly not enunciating a language that's hard for me to pronounce.) Anyway, put a tambourine in there and I'm definitely on right brain. The rhythm just keeps me going, and somewhere in my poor brain I figure out which beats to play it on.
But today I'm hurting all over...muscles saying I shouldn't have been so free and easy walking yesterday...or perhaps not slept with a fan pointed somewhat in my direction last night, though it did bounce off the wall before the breeze hit me. Oh, perhaps it's living in the cloud that hasn't dried away yet (9:30 am) with sunshine. Cool is nice, but damp is not. Whatever did it, I'm moving slowly this morning.
Then biting my tongue had another meaning. As I poured my second cuppa hot water over coffee grounds in paper filter cone on top of my mug, I remembered in my mother's voice "bite your tongue."
It had to do with not saying what I saw. I'm sure it had to do with saying "why does Aunt Zelda (not her name) have a big spot (I didn't know the word wart yet) on the middle of her head?" It must have been something like that, because I never saw her again, whoever she was. And my poor mother probably wished the floor would swallow her up because she raised such a loud-mouth. However, I probably got kicked under the table or pinched many times for saying the truth of what I saw...again and again. There's just no stopping me from making observations.
I was glad by the time I had my first science class in 7th grade to learn that this was a good thing.
Biting my tongue has never been good for me.