the engine of a city roared
a million thoughts dancing with no one to say them
we held it in,
cowered our heads
and obeyed
the lines were there,
so we stayed inside these wishes.
the boundaries were too tough to break
living within these walls
we gave up.
because time moves fast
and soon we’ll be old
and soon youth
will be nothing but a mirror we glance in
wondering how we got these wrinkles,
asking why we did those things we did
wondering if the mistakes we made
were really mistakes at all
i wish i paid attention to more things
i wish i could remember how you were
not how i remember you to be.
I know the world threatens to solidify your heart and turn this beating, pulsing, great big thing, into stone.
I know you’ve been hurt.
I know you’ve been discarded.
Put upon.
Abused,
Taken advantage of.
Hurt,
Betrayed.
Lied to—in the name of love.
my heart is cold and tired
weak, yet beating.
i haven’t been listening to you sweet one
and for that i am sorry
i cannot understand you these days
drop everything and run away
but how can i run with no direction
but the sunset?
is home the dividing line
and fence that separates us from others
is it the walls that held our tears and our joy,
our traditions and pictures
is that where home lies?
is home the stories you’re afraid to tell
where you could shut the door and live in your imagination
where you knew what it meant to make people proud,
or to let them down,
is home expectation?
I saw a woman driving today, she was crying like she had just lost someone close.
Tears of rage. Of being left alone to fight against this planet. To fight for her own life, without having any support as far as she could see into the distance.
It made me cry. My eyes swelled up.
I cried because I know that pain so intimately. I repress the sadness more than I want to feel it. If I experience the depths too often I cannot live, I cannot move forward. I can get lost in the feelings for days. Stuck, numb, distant.
I cried because I feel lonely too often.
“Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The key word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for.”
— Ray Bradbury
Validation is the enemy of all great creative work.
Are you creating for acceptance from your peers? Your mentors? Are you creating solely out the economic necessity? Are you writing a book to become a best-selling author? Are you moving people just so you can prove to yourself that you and your work is worthwhile?
I am a human being. Full of contradictions and complexities, most of which I’ll never understand. I’m full of heartbreak and endless amounts of love.
Brands are boxes. What we really need is honesty.
We need authenticity. We need people telling the truth.
We don’t need a filtered version of the frontlines. We’re resilient, we can handle it.
Is home where we originally laid roots as a child?
Or, is it where we lie our heads and bodies for the night?
Home isn’t a place, it’s a state of mind and way of living that can make the world your home. We’ve outgrown the American Dream – the promise of a house, a yard, a wife, a regular child and a half person (look up the stats).
We hold up shields anytime we need the approval of another thing to validate our true selves, or our artistic work.
Showing up and showing all is vulnerable. It’s much easier to sit back and let the judgement fall upon an institution, an MD, a PHD, some sort of certification.