One song can spark a moment,
One flower can wake the dream.
One tree can start a forest,
One bird can herald spring.
One smile begins a friendship,
One handclasp lifts a soul.
One star can guide a ship at sea,
One word can frame the goal.
One vote can change a nation,
One sunbeam lights a room.
One candle wipes out darkness,
One laugh will conquer gloom.
One step must start each journey,
One word must start each prayer.
One hope will raise our spirits,
One touch can show you care.
One voice can speak with wisdom,
One heart can know what's true.
One life can make the difference,
You see, IT'S UP TO YOU!
Tonight I will drive 30 miles to the south. The music will be loud, the gas pedal will be pressed and I...I will be scared.
I will keep glancing at the small yellow post-it note stuck to the front of my faux brown leather journal on the passenger seat (the only thing I am required to bring with me other than a pen) even though in my mind I know exactly where to turn.
I will find a parking space while my heart thumps against the walls of my chest in an effort to escape.
I will search for room #230 in that large brick building and hope that getting lost is not a part of my itinerary for the evening.
My hands will shake. *note to self: bring something to drink and remember to pee first* I will force myself to walk through the classroom door and find a seat somewhere in the middle.
I will search for friendly faces in the crowd around me. Someone will finally speak to me. Then and only then will the shaking subside and the heart calm itself.
I will realize that I can survive the unknown...again (a lesson that I must re-learn on a constant basis).
I will walk out of that classroom three hours later with a sense of pride only I can give myself, for the first step will have been taken. The first real step to realizing my passion. Or the second, I suppose, if you count this blog.
One way or another, it's up to me to let these voices out of my head. To allow these stories to flow from my fingers. To put it all down on paper after paper, journal after journal. That is my dream...to let it all out, so it's not clouding my judgement, my plans and my life any longer. The real and the imaginary, all together, on paper, in stories, trapped in the written word instead of the wrinkles in my brain.
Are you ready for the chaos that could cause?
But I am walking forward with my head held high, my eyes looking straight at you and my fingers itching to explode with images on paper.
I will do this.
But I am terrified of the outcome.