Monday, September 29, 2014
I'm Taking My Wild Heart Outside
I'm not rolling these days. On the best days, I bend a little, but mostly I just fold. Fold up for easy storage.
I need to get out of my head. Get away from myself and the stories I've convinced myself make me an artist.
My brain needs a break. I need to get outside and sniff the air. Look around and hear my heart beating for anything other than an industry that holds me in no regard. I'm okay with that: no regard. Likely wouldn't know what to do with it if I had it. Probably would leave in on the lap of a stranger sleeping in a doorway.
I'm a doer. Not a waiter. Waiting breaks my stride. Smears itself across my psyche until the most dynamic parts of me line up into a holding pattern, and I stammer and cry in public.
I am an artist.
I'm taking my wild heart outside. I can't be the creative firebrand if I stay inside the lines.
God help me shed expectation. Finally and forever toss aside the notion of success and instead let me touch the faces of the people I love feel the weight of eternity.
Show me how to travel . . .