Do you ever wake up and have something to say
– so adrenaline packed, like you’re about to run and jump off a cliff and dive into the water, down, down, way down below; your chest aflutter with this indescribable light and creativity, butterfly wings brushing your rib cage –
….but you don’t know what the words are?
Do you ever think you have the idea down, only to realize you weren’t even learning about the same experience you thought you were?
Stare at the ceiling, trying to scrape together some semblance of reasoning, trying desperately to grasp whatever it is that you’ve missed.
Do you ever wake up while sitting at the computer, never having closed your eyes or dozed off, and realize there is a wildfire in your head, barred only by the very skull keeping your squishy brain safe,
and if you could only figure out how to translate these zigzagging, maddening, sparks,
how to convince them to catch fire and breath out from between your lips
– you’d have tapped into genius?
Do you ever wonder what fear is squashing inside you? What magnificence lies waiting for you to brush back quiver of fright and bound forward into the darkness with a pen and notebook, taking notes as you go, but going nonetheless?
Do you ever sit around, in those moments where you must wait, and wonder. Entertain thoughts of what could be, if you were the person you wish you could be?
I hope you do.
I do too.
We are silly souls, sitting around, waiting for brilliance to strike.
For circumstance to permit.
Someone to give us permission.
Someone to bankroll the idea.
Push us forward, into the room, into the choice, into the lush corner office,
without all the unbalanced mess-ups, misfires, and questions having to go before us,
embedding into our skin, reminding us we are so, ever so fragile.
Are we so helpless?
But we often choose to be.
Others try to bind us down with cords of hate, ridicule, and all the nasty little creations of their fear turned malice filled hearts. Wanting us to hurt, because they never woke up, never wondered, never picked up the feet attached to their dreams and forced their pulse back into the throat as they tried, failed, tried, failed, tried, failed.
Don’t let them.
We must try and fail and keep trying.
Keep working toward the feather-light stirrings inside our head and heart.
Listening to the voice, whispering, “you can do this”, “do it again”, “ignore the embarrassment”.
A little secret? Everyone starts out clueless. Some of us are just better pretenders before we get our bearings.
Do you ever wake up and say to yourself, I am going to do this. While I’m exhausted. While I’m a newbie. While I’m so green the grass runs the other direction.
I am going to do this. Without a degree, without a genius telling me I’m the new Einstein, all the while throwing cash in my direction.
I am going to do this. While it scares me. When it isn’t easy.
Do you ever go to bed and tell yourself, “tomorrow, I will do it tomorrow.” Do you say this the next night, and the next, and the next?
This is death.
Death to the butterfly wings inside, growing from something small and squirmy into something with wings.
Do you ever wonder at all the dead things lying in the road, unseen by most, wished for by all?
They are the hopes. The dreams. The belief we chose to abandon.
They are the “what ifs” and the “maybe if I tried it this way”, the whispers of our soul, poking at us until we feel so much discomfort in our self-forced contentment, that we must do something, anything, to appease this urge for new, for betterment. For life.
Do you ever wonder what you’ve hidden from yourself?
Do you ever weep at the thought of the lives you could have helped with the fire now turned to ash, sitting banished but never alone alongside the miles of long forgotten?
Do you ever weep at the loss of your soul?
Weep and sob these ugly emotions out, out, out, until perhaps…
Perhaps there is room for a wildfire.
by Daphne Shadows