I love to ask the hard questions. I get off on digging deep, and then taking my pointed shovel and digging deeper, pulling out the darkest, dirtiest parts of a conversation. I want to feel it in my bones, I want to know someone’s heart and feel the vibration of emotion underneath my skin. That’s the kind of talk I’m interested in. I want gazes met and burning, talk of how it felt and where it’s going and what we want this minute and ten million minutes from now. I need to hear about what hurts, about what knocked you down, the way you drowned yourself in tequila and how ashamed you have been of the things you have done, and how it felt while you were lying there bleeding out. I will tell you the same, and I will tell you how we will rise again. I want you to know how it feels to have my magic hit yours with full force, over and over again with laughter in my eyes and courage in my heart. I want to hear the need for bigger things, for great joy, and the great passion you only speak of when you are alone in your head.
Fuck the glazing over of things. I’m out of time for wasted hours and minutes, spent on words about things that don’t matter and don’t light my fire. There’s too much to do, too much to say, to waste anymore time on things that don’t build a legacy. Things that don’t speak to the kind of person I want to be. We spend so much time on running down the meaningless details of our days..the things that have no bearing on our life going forward; we spend so much time with the things that bleed us dry that there is nothing left to keep us alive. So we sit. We sit in the silence, in the living rooms, at the dinner tables, at the kitchen counters alone with a bottle of vodka and a tear streaked face with a starving, lonely heart.
We drive 20 extra miles the long way just to be able to sit in silence with ourselves, because it’s more nourishing than sitting in silence with another when our soul is screaming to communicate. To say what no one wants to say. To ask the questions we may not want answers to. To feel the weight lifted, and our chest fill with air for the first time in days..or is is years?
We stand in the living room of our life, a life we created, looking at the artwork on the walls and wonder where it came from. Would we choose the same canvases if given the chance to choose again? Why or why not? The why is not to be forgotten. The Why is so important….yet I hear over and over, ‘just because’. There is not just because. If there is no why…there is nothing but emptiness. Ask why, about the job, about the lover, about the sofa, about the roadtrip…ask it now. If it screams yes with a voice of a thousand reasons, embrace it. If you receive no answer, accept the gift and lesson with an open heart, be it wounded or angry…let it be open. Then onward, with eyes and heart focused.