i’ve lived 4 lives in 2 years.
streaks of light tunnels racing
scenery like a film reel flashing
you told me you didn’t love me
i drank whiskey, dark, forgotten words
and then there was laughter
skipping down an empty sidewalk,
and a midnight moon
can we stay here forever?
i don’t want to forget
does forever exist?
it’s getting so loud
and we’re moving so fast
all of a sudden the deafening roar
The lights snap, bursting white sparks into black
Dark, vast… where?
The end of the tracks
cut the noise like a sliver
This is where 4 lives end
And one begins
I can still hear their voices.
It is strange when you can see the ends of things so clearly.
The dust, the fray, the edges of things –
where it all ends.
the walk away – one last time down the hall you knew so well
never to be walked that very same way again.
It was strange to see the turn of the corner.
To watch you disappear into the dark
knowing that was the day you walked out of my life forever.
This is the intersection.
Hang a left, I’ll make a right
And I won’t look back
but you know
while you were here
it was good, it was good
it was so, so good
it was so good to see you smile.
The blankness of the year ahead prods at me with its deafening silence, and the pressure of knowing that it is my responsibility alone to fill those pages eats away at my subconscious. I feel the weight of possibility.
Jonathan Safran Foer once said, “Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.” I agree wholeheartedly. Sometimes the pressure of possibility can be far more intense than the even the stress and responsibilities associated with having a designated path – particularly when you are someone prone to the seductiveness of possibility, the “what-if,” and the meanderings of your unbridled imagination.
I know I spend much more time than I’d like to admit entertaining the idea of living out of a tiny RV, driving up the coast, playing music and making a living off of sunshine, laughter and the thrill of adventure.
I have also contemplated the idea of moving to Africa and building mud huts. Needless to say, the possibilities are endless, and the thought that you could take your life in any direction you choose is sometimes more mentally paralyzing and less liberating than one might think. Extreme liberation and possibility leaves the feeling of responsibility. You alone are responsible for what happens and for what doesn’t happen in your life. You cannot drift through life; you must drift with purpose.
“Every person, all the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.”
– Richard Bach
In a way, it’s beautiful – the simultaneous pressure and liberation that comes with choice. Paint your canvas. Dabble. Take risks. Throw a few colors on the palate that you’ve never tried before. I’ve learned that the most memorable times in my life have been moments that have resulted from taking risks and getting out of my comfort zone. A bad date makes for a much funnier story than a great one.
The challenge this year: Throw a corkscrew into things. Say something off color. Be powerful. Get off of autopilot and wake up. Truly be alive – feeling, thinking and experiencing every minute. What are the pipe dreams and ambitions on your list? Dabble and dip your toes in them all. Hopefully, by the end of 2011, your canvas will an explosion of color.