Monday, July 19, 2010

this place was radioactive with memories.

Nothing you do in your life really even matters- dust to dust- you can't take it with you. If that makes you feel small, good. It should. That is exactly what you are. I've been carrying around this ego of mine calling it things acceptable: Hard work, determination, courage...

When really I am just trying to matter in a vast complicated universe where nothing really ever does. Nothing stays. I stood on this island, with no light and no power and could not see anything except black on the horizon and a million stars. If the ocean had swallowed me up right then, the only thing that I would have left behind that really matters is the love I gave to others. People would box up resumes, photos, files and accolades and throw them into the trash. A life I obsessed over would be gone in a flash. You would forget me. The people closest to me would forgive all the mistakes I made. They would talk about all the ways they will remember me, and then eventually, life would get in the way and they would forget me too.

First I wanted to dance.

Then I wanted to dance great.

Then I wanted to be great.

Then I wanted to be greater than "them" (insert: everyone who ever said no to me, every director who cut me from an audition, every boy who broke my heart, every girl said boy loved after me, every kid who was cruel to me in school, every person who called me talentless)

Then I wanted to matter.

Then I realized that so very few things actually do.

I realized on this trip that my favorite version of myself is the one that does what I love for no other reason that it being what I love. It is so easy to touch everything and actually be connected to nothing.

be grateful.
be satisfied.
be humble.