This human conversation – written in glances, typed through gesture, sung in the muscles that fire when we hug each other fiercely – startles me awake at night.
I want to know you. I want to know myself. I want to grab the both of us and sit our souls down to talk and dream.
Midnight reveries birthed in flavor. Salt-marsh loaminess on the half shell, chili peppered chocolate which always ends up smeared on the corners of my mouth. Lemony-garlic-y olives, a constant pucker.
These tastes feed something inside of us, something blood-red and deep.
Through the half-light before dawn, visions of us. Delicious scenes of embodied joy, unbridled freedom, complete satiation. The beauty of our cells writ large and so true that we don’t need to believe in it.
A singular soul-dance, collaborative communion.
And then I wake and start the day.
Today, I am in the air. Flying from one coast to the other. Carousing with two kids excited to see their cousins and indulging a husband who is feverishly writing documents on his laptop so that when we land, he can turn off his work-brain.
I am surrounded by strangers, too. Other adults in this dim cabin who sleep, watch movies, read the New Yorker. There’s a hip couple in the row ahead of me. She has the best shoulder-length curly grey hair, and he is wearing the kind of black North Face down jacket that packs into a tiny ball. Something about his strong jaw, prominent nose, and tousled white hair reminds me of an older Jeff Goldblum.
The man directly behind me has been sleeping for 4 straight hours, his head cradled by a giant football pillow. His apparent soul-brother across the way has a dinosaur pillow-pet on board. And no matter what, each person who walks down the center aisle toward the bathroom looks like someone I know or somebody famous.
This, this is why I write, dance, create and heal.
Because my humanness demands it. Because the divinity in me demands it.
Because life is both ethereal and literal, exalted and direct. Because the heartbreaking both/and of human experience demands expression.
So that we don’t forget that we are made of bones, skin, stardust and imagination. So that we can be in the air and on the ground at the same time. So that we don’t forget we contain multitudes.
So that we remember. So that I remember.
What about you? What grabs you, lights you up and demands expression?