Sunday, 6 January 2013

What it really means..

What does it really mean? All of this shiny-sparkly-attractive mess?

What does it mean to have to wake up without an alarm clock? To get up, because you simply couldn't sleep any longer? To lie down only when your eyes can't take it anymore? To talk like a strange person who has a million simultaneous thoughts? To listen, but mostly pretend. To have a million thoughts cross your mind, a million lists on every page of every notebook you ever owned, a million things, and very very little time?

What does it really mean? All this powerful-driven-crazy mess?

What does it mean to know that you are the last word on something? To have people look at you for answers? To not have a back-up, a safety-net, any option? To have all eyes glued, all attention received, all ears in your direction? To hear the applause, but not feel it? To reach a point of so much crazy that even dinner seems like an indulgence? To listen to your own story and not relate to it?

What does it really mean? All this?

To wake up busy, to sleep busy, to eat busy, to think busy, to feel busy?

To wake up happy, to sleep happy. That's what it really means. All this.

3 comments:

  1. beautiful. you are charged and
    you are in charge !!

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  2. E.M. Forster said in Howard's End, "Only connect! Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer." When I read your blog, I was ported back to these lines. It applies to what you are feeling, completely. Except that "prose" in your case is the higher goal of your endeavor. Constantly - in the most literal sense - let your passion stay connected with that higher sense of purpose. I know first hand: you WILL continue to sleep happy, and wake up happy.

    Anonymous-no-longer

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