The Importance of Being Inspired
As I held my roast beef sandwich in my left hand I had another conversation with you. I was in the kitchen… you are my funny little frog. And sometimes I can’t stand the feeling in my stomach, or is it my throat or my arms? It travels through my veins.
Then I remember that I am imagining it all and start fighting with you over the importance of being inspired. Fighting with myself, I know I have to acknowledge that much, and will.
Here it is. I’ve courageously encouraged my friends to hold out for it and then give in to it completely. Love her. Woo her. Show her that the meaning of your life is proportional to the love you have for her… Is she worth that much?… When the answer is yes, my heart skips a beat and I embrace the feeling, and, hiding as best I can how much I wish that I too had this in my life. I really do feel happy for them (but I want it too). No matter how successful I have been in the other areas, this is the one where I have failed miserably. I confess that when the person across from me has tried to show me this part, I skillfully analyze it and brush off the feeling that I deserve it and should feel safe receiving it.
I’ve told them, take a chance, picnic on a roof, take her for a walk, call her and tell her you just wanted to hear her voice.
All this time and I realize that I never expected the same for myself, to inspire such feelings in someone else… and all the time longing for it.
I don’t know how to let go, its my only connection to madness, and all of a sudden, its not such a bad thing.
Sometimes I think my heart calls to you, but it has the wrong number or the cables are down.