i'm the actor who's scared to perform
i'm the sunshine that hides in the clouds
i'm the father that couldn't be found
i'm the cuckoo that never flew south
i'm the christian that cannot forgive
i'm the dreamer that jumps off the bridge
i'm the sinner who hates how he lives...
i'm the liar who gets what he gives.
-Ed Harcourt, Rain On the Pretty Ones
There are moments, still. Moments when I am hit with a swell of certainty that I have abandoned myself. I pause, overwhelmed by the chasm that separates me from the quiet, patient shadow that I some days am barely aware exists. What's worse is when I go days or weeks without even thinking about the fact that I miss her.
She tells me to remember how hard I've worked to make impossible things happen in my past.She wishes I would not stuff down my desire to become a traveler because of fear.
She'd like to kick me in the ass for pretending this is enough.
She reminds me how much participating in the comaraderie of musicians meant to me.
She challenges me to take risks in my art.
She wonders if I'll allow myself to fail.
She asks if I've forgotten the exhilaration of performance.
She urges me to become fully passionate with the wreckless abandon of a child.
She can't comprehend giving so much power to my own critical voice.
She wants me to stop lying to myself about me.
*Feed reader folks, there's a video in this post. This song makes my soul ache and swirl. Please give it a listen.
