A weekend of calling bluffs, working out and working things out. All oddly related.
When we were young (no killers reference intended... I think) Halloween was about staying up late, eating candy and dressing up. It's a time for young kids to dress up as firemen and disney princesse's. It's a time for college girl's to dress up as slutty french maids; college boys to dress up as gladiators. And then as one gets older it becomes another excuse to drink. It's simply one night in a year of reality where you can be someone you can never really be.
And then there are some of us who don't even have to dress up; we wear a costume every day of our lives. We always pretend to be someone we're not. Somewhere in the midst of many Halloween's and thousands of other days we loose who we once were. We become that costume.
Yet, we still complain that no one really knows us, or understand us. When in truth everyone knows us better than we know our "new" selves.
It's lost in the harsh reality that somewhere along the way you let someone know you better than you have ever known yourself.
At least that's what I thought. But indulge me if you will, what if Halloween is the chance for you to show who you are. And every other day of the year you are hiding behind a mask and a cheap costume. What if you really are that fireman or that slut?
Life is the true masquerade.
And so, I call his bluff, or he calls mine, or she called ours. It was enough for me to want to run for my very life. That wasn't how I had orchestrated things. I thought I had protected myself against that. Sometime in that long conversation in the moonlight, I learned something about him.. about me.. about people.
We all have writers block.
Albeit in a different form; we all have it. We block our creativity. It can be through our emotions, our trust, our reality. All in the name of guarding ourselves. From what I ask you? From doing the only thing in life worth doing? From being yourself, the only person in life worth being? I'll stand up as the the hypocrite I am to say:
It's not worth it.
If you can only do one thing in your otherwise meager lifetime, let it be your personal masterpiece. Be a composer of music, of words, of a simple smile; unlike anything this world has ever seen. Be passionate. Fall in love. Trust someone. Anyone. Show your scars. Wear your very heart on your sleeve. Put down the bottle of gin and let your soul shine forth. Sign offline and go outside your personal bubble without fear. Be open to the chance that you will get hurt, and see it for the glimpse of a blessing it is. Because great love can only be fully appreciated after knowing great anguish. Be that person you dressed up as for Halloween, show your wildest desires in your everyday reality. Recognize what you really want and go for it. Don't view a costume as another opportunity to hide; but instead a chance for your soul to bloom in a tangible way. Be a fireman. Be a princess. Be a gladiator. Be a slut. Whatever it is, be it in the fullest, the most real sense you can imagine. Don't hide. Don't run when someone calls your bluff. Or you might miss the chance for your wildest dreams to become your most ecstatic reality.
Now if only I could see past my own mask to take my own advice.
The other day my old soul friend (yes, that is truly the only way I can describe her) and I talked about poetry and the common aspects of it. The moon and stars, love and loss, passion and trust. Her poem ( read it here ) caused me to realize something I've always taken for granted. The moon always goes through its orbit. The stars always shine. Clouds may come and blanket the stars. The man in the moon may hide. But here's the deal kids.
Just because we can't see it doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
Is it not the same with love? Its light is always there, its face stays the same. But clouds come, its orbit turns its face from us. But it never truly leaves. Whether it be your first love, your last love, passionate love, fatherly love or pitying love; it is as much a commanding force in the universe as the stars. At times I too want to rope the moon (come on y'all, It's A Wonderful Life reference) to draw that symbol of undying love closer to my heart. But I know, I must have just as much faith in love staying true, as I can in the moon continuing to orbit, and the stars holding their shine. For now, I have a tangible reminder every time I look at the moon in the sky, as the stars twinkling light reflects in my hopeful eyes. Through this I know, without the shadow of a doubt,
I can not create love, nor can I destroy love. But I can change it's form.