What are you keeping your heart from?
It's simple to ask, but difficult to answer.
At 9pm I wore off the stress. I do my most creative work either right after I wake up, or in deep into the evening. Late at night, I take a deep breath, and let the world fall away and drop from my shoulders. That's when I can breathe with ease. That's when anxiety slowly fades and is replaced with love.
I move in the stillness, with the kindness. My mind is finally clear. It's rushed during the day. It worries too much and tries to achieve instead of appreciate. By night, I calm down, and ask what's the point? By the night, I'm myself.
"I keep telling myself that I'm so much better off."
Music doesn't speak to the soul anymore. It seems like we check all the appropriate boxes, but are without the cathartic words and melodies that uproot our foundation. We talk more and more about meaning making, and vulnerability, and embracing our imperfections, but to some extent, still admire the polished, perfect. It feels like a permanent cognitive dissonance, like a nouveau talking point, not a careful contemplation, practiced with deep responsibility.
"You know I'm numb."
I want the accident, not the celebration. The real feeling, not the packaged. The kindred quiet not the bullhorn. The last thing we need is another false promise to keep us in a holding pattern -- good enough to continue, but not enough to make positive change.
"Yea, I'm numb."
It appears that culture is mirroring a heightened state of narcism. If that's true, there's a counter-narrative, a chance to choose a new direction. I'm choosing to ignite, connect, root out loneliness, and realize true caring goodness. That's where I am going, where we can go together.
Lyrics to the first song of Mixed Messages are complete.