I spent quite a few minutes weeping in my van tonight.
Not over what you might expect - being without my kids this
week, or the stress of life.
I wept over beauty.
Beauty in the world, beauty in people. Beauty in this thing
that is human existence, with all its frailty and imperfection. Beauty in the
magic that resides in every single one of us.
We are each just a person. A person seeking connection.
Love. Happiness. Success.
We are each also a miracle. A mass of molecules organized
with dizzying order and spectacular function, with a spirit that resides
inside, full and feeling and without borders in what it is capable of
envisioning.
Some days when I try to work on writing something and it
isn't coming together, or when my mind is constantly pestered by the intrusion
of characters, stories, and snippets of dialogue, or I drive myself insane
trying to put words and music to an idea that seems indescribable but essential
to communicate which results in frustration, I feel cursed by this need to
create. I wonder how much easier my life would be if I didn't have the
constant, nagging, unseen world standing at the foot of my bed, begging to be
clothed in words. How much easier could I sleep if sleep were all I searched
for at night, instead of learning I cannot relax without my notebook on the
nightstand, ready to wake me at an idea's notice? How many fewer quesadillas
would I have burned staring off into space, how many more moments would I not
have missed because I was watching the show in my mind?
Tonight I took myself on a date to see The Greatest Showman.
It was wonderful. This really isn't about the show. It's fabulous. But it was
about what was happening around me BECAUSE of the show.
I saw people put their hands up to their mouths at
unexpected tragedy. I saw tears being wiped away, and some being left to roll
freely down, joining the others in little pools on our collarbones. I saw
childrens' faces lighting up at the spectacle, the cinematography sweeping them
around in their imaginations as if they were the ones riding the trapeze or
swinging down from the high wire. I saw toes tapping, hands drumming on knees,
people singing under their breath, moving in their seats, annoyed by the social
custom that says we must sit down and be "behaved".
At the end of the show, no one moved. And then everyone
applauded. APPLAUDED. In the movie theatre.
Those actors can't hear us. The director was not in the
room. They have no idea what we felt watching it right then, in that moment -
but the human need to show appreciation for the power of story, for something
that moved us, something that made us feel alive and full of wonder and magic
and possibility was greater than everyday common sense. We wanted a communal
way to share with other audience members that we enjoyed it so very much.
I walked to my car, turned on the heater, and wept.
This is why I do what I do. This. Connection. People. Love.
Story. Making sense of nonsense. Making nonsense of sense for the sake of
looking at things a different way.
I don't believe there is a single human who does not have
within them the burning desire to create something that has meaning, whether
that is a family, a community, a story, or all of it.
I cannot wait for my notebook to keep me up tonight.
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