What people
see are externals; physical attributes, profiles and position, passions and
power—
or lack
thereof.
People see
actions and assume motivation;
people see
doubt and assume weakness. What people see is not me.
I am more
than my package, more than my history, more than my gifts, and
I need to be
listened to.
I shouldn’t
need validation, but how do I know I really exist if I don’t hear back from the
universe I walk in?
Reading
alone in a window seat, viewing nature from my perch, writing poetry and
capturing all I see in drawings and photos, words that rhyme—I used to think
that would be enough. It would be like playing cello on a deck in a wild, ethereal
Alaskan wood—no one listening except the trees and sky and creatures hidden
from view. Mystic communion with the world.
Romantic
nonsense.
Contemplation
is preparation—not enough just as is.
If it does
not prepare me to worship or serve or commune with others, meditation and
creation are empty romantic drivel. And if there is no one to hear, then
the ribbon
of music drifts on the air and is just as lost to the cosmos as if it had never
been played.
So I need to
create, but I also need you.
Are you
listening to me?
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