It is both a blessing and a curse.

Nov 19

I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. And yet I find myself shivering in the bone splintering cold. This is it. This is all we get. For me, life has always been a theatrical event even when I’ve wanted to be, or have been, in the darkest of audience shadows. A play between loving and living, bathed in a non-stop light show fueled by self imposed aspirations for some magical balance. It’s a nonstop light show because the balance doesn’t exist. It never did and it never will – not the way we have crafted it in our pictures and our minds. And all the while, this ridiculously loud light beams down on a 24/7 circus, begging the performance go on…go on.

After so long, and it isn’t very long…the stench of burning plastic and metal starts to permeate the space we’ve chosen to host our amazing spectacle of a show. It starts to stink, the air gets a little hazy, and the crowd stops buying tickets. Sometimes, that crowd which feels so vast is really just an audience of one. It’s an audience of one and the plastic is burning off of your lights. You can’t put makeup or electrical tape on this one.

It’s you. It’s yourself. Playing out these parts as love and living compete for the spotlight while refusing to compromise…refusing to even take intermissions. And everything goes black.

You sit there in a hazy confusion, wondering why or how on earth things seem to have slammed so hard and so fast into the wall. How you let the lights burn through themselves, when it feels like just yesterday you were designing the scaffolding. And for a moment, just after your face hits the rigid brick wall that is IMPERFECTION, you remember just how important it is to bring your own light to the darkness.

This is it. You feel like this is it. But you know the show must go on, and you’ll live to see another day and you’ll do it all over again. “Maybe tomorrow.”

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