May 11, 2021

press play

Listen, friend. This isn’t a poker game, some thick-smoked room to keep your cards
hidden until the final ante. This isn’t the stage rehearsal where you skip the high notes
to save your voice, or those practice runs in the parking lot with a map of orange cones
guiding you into reverse and parallel. Yes, the tide will keep going out and back like
clockwork. We will always look to measure and mete out our efforts in incremental intervals,
testing the recipe of our purpose, licking our fingers clean. We will want
to glimpse what is too much or not enough without the sacrifice of embarrassment or,
worse, the fallen soufflé of failure. But my goodness, the songs we could be singing
while the light takes its own sweet time to change. The dust we could be kicking up
as the dance finds us on inexpert legs, spilling out the door and into the waiting streets.