To write is to live inside a dream. To be the dreamer and the dream. To live in a limitless world of seamless dimensions. Writing and dreaming share the same helix. Both speak in metaphors and navigate by feel.
The world is neither this thing nor that thing. It is not our ideas of how it is or of how it should be. The world is the world. Like love, the world contains all possibilities. All darks and lights, all ups and downs, all rainbows of doubt and joy, hardship and pleasure. But I want you to forget all that.
Your job is to find beauty.
These endless lists of things we are forever updating, these imaginary enemies we drag around with us, these pieces of identity we hold on to for so long we forget they are there. These are the things that keep us from ourselves.
And yet somehow, somehow, you will find a different set of days. In those days, the sun will be warm on your skin. Though there will still be a few clouds, just enough to allow the colors all around you to reveal themselves. And your world will be saturated with beauty.
Each day asks this of us. That we show up. And nothing more. No hiding beneath the covers. No resting on laurels. No reaching for back issues. No sitting on the bench. No calling in sick. No need to save the world.