Owning It.....

So. Not only did I not get a part in the play that I auditioned for, I didn't even get a call back. Which sucks. And makes me sad. And makes me want to quit trying this. Because really, maybe it's all just a pipe dream in my head. Maybe it's all a massive distraction. And then, I'm reminded that words and images and art is worth something. This passage from a poem is pilfered from a long forgotten post in an old forum. It won't mean much to any of you, but for me, it broke some wall that was strangling me. After Finn was born, I'd succumbed to a deep dark tunnel of depression. Mostly I'd come out of it, I was feeling some things. But this cut thru what was left of my inability to feel things deeply. I felt (and maybe I was projecting, and maybe I wasn't) that this exerpt was a direct reference to how I'd responded to someone else's pain. I'd felt this twinge - a glimmer of that terrible burden of grief that comes from losing someone close - and it cut thru the numbness I had been wrapped in and I had responded to it in an honest but horribly insensitive way. "A family is crying as much as I am, and you are going on with your lives. You’re cuteness and empathy is so sweet and cool and hopeful; But eliminate a soul from your life, feel that; FEEL that, and come back and tell me how you care, how fucking thankful you are “I’m thankful because I'm not sharing your pain; but hey, I hope that is a sympathy” The internet has made you fucking robots. Your slim view has made you marginal. Cry. Cry for us, at least that. Cry for us. " -J.R. (aka: Couch Guy) And I did cry. I cried all day after I read that. I couldn't even explain to Erin why. I'm sure he thought I was really losing it. I couldn't shake the sadness that I'd hurt someone with my transparency. That I'd been so callous to appear to diminish the deep agonizing pain of someone else's loss. But I also snapped to attention that words do matter. That words have power. That words and art have monumental potential to reach beyond boundaries and distance and time. Someone's rebuking words - someone I don't know, a country away, whom I will probably never meet face to face, had with those few paragraphs managed to slap me out of the numbness I'd been wallowing in. And crying? It was exactly what I needed. Timely that I ran across it now, this week. This week when I'm wanting once more to say I'm done - I give up I'm reminded again that words and images and this is important - it is powerful. I'm reminded that this ability, this opportunity to express what I'm exploring, what I'm feeling isn't just meaningless words on a screen. Because even if it only ever resonates with one person, a country away, whom I'll never meet face to face, then the effort to keep going - beyond my comfort zone - has been worth it. Because this year? I'm daring to dream again. And more importantly? I'm owning.that.word.