Monday, November 24, 2014
What Interests Me...
We are so worried, about what we do, we forget about who we are...what we are. Are you sure you know life? Or do you just speak about life? Do you just walk around it? Do you even know how to dance with it?
What do you long for? Are there empty spaces in your being that you know can be filled with emptiness. Do you ever want to fill a cup with your own damn voice? What would you say if you could capture it all in a cup?
Is there something inside of you that speaks louder than the mundane, everyday, humdrum of a life. Do you long for peace? Or do you long for passion that ceases to make sense? Do you even know what passion is, would you recognize it if it slapped you across the face? Would you know that difference between passion and peace, do you know you want it all?
What puts you on fire? Which one of us will fight the fight, the one we all know about. The one about our dreams. Which one of us will stand like a fool, and invite the truth to our table, no matter how dirty it makes the moment.
Enlightenment is falling in love with the world, letting it breathe and tell you, you are real. You did not imagine this existence but you imagined its limits.
Did you know there are no limits to our songs, the ones we don't sing, the ones we imagine are too loud.
Infinity is a stone we all throw around as if it can be measured, as if our lives can be numbered as if our days don't have wings. We have a closet full of birds, no lack of song in this house.
Yet we forgot our voice and we captured their wings.
Life is not about eternity...it is about one moment. This one, not that one. In this one moment, what will you be?
Will you be a number for us to count, like money? Will you be a song for us to sing, when we notice how little we are worth if we don't dance.
How many of us climbed mountains with our pauses, the way we stop. In the middle of sentences we don't want to say? The way we don't breathe, in the middle of a life we don't want to live.
Sing for me once, a ballad of your choice.
Know that you are heard, no need to scream. Unless you have found the fine line between reality and imagination, and decided you want to walk it.
Maybe dance it.
Move for me this once, the way you do to your own beat.
Reality is not any more real than your own voice.
Say it, in your own way.