I am learning to play the guitar and there is something intensely satisfying about the callouses I am developing on my finger tips. It feels as though I am earning something.
Something rough on a more delicate person that gives me the ability to make something beautiful out of 5 strings and some wood… the opportunity to create, to express takes some sort of weathering.
My feet are filled with tiny cuts from the play in Prague, I earned the applause. When something is easy, when there is no callous or cut, is it really worth it?
In the moment I bitch and complain. I say things like “What the fuck? Sweep the damn floors?” But, after the show closes and I am cleaning the cut on the top of my toe, there is a sense of accomplishment that is not replaceable.
And so I recognize aliveness.
I see that I am in a body and yet it is not real until i feel it.
and so it is with emotions.
I know I am a human being, but until I experience my own emotional bandwidth, I don’t really know if I am anything more than a robot.
Thank you, calloused hands, bleeding heart, and open mind.
Fill my days with rich alive-ness and I will give me a standing ovation.