I want to write a book. And I want to climb to the top of the Alps, which I’ve already done, but I want to do it again. And this time I want to jump. Literally just jump off. To feel that moment of weightlessness that I feel in my dreams. You know, the ones where you’re falling and wake up right before you hit the ground? That’s what I want. I want to ride on the back of a white, wild horse. And dig my heels into its sides until we are flying. I want to hold the clouds in the palm of my hand, and I want the sun to singe my hair. I want to go to Africa and live there for a year. Just to suffer. To know what it feels like to starve. To fight for your life. And I want to walk into the cancer wing at a hospital, and crawl into bed with one of the patients and just hold them until all of their disease leaves their body and enters mine. And then I want to take that cancer and show it what life is supposed to be. It’s supposed to be laughing and crying. Not hurting and laying. And I’ll show that cancer how to live because it just doesn’t know how. I want to scream the names of everyone I love at the top of my lungs. And I want to give them each the perfect gift. And I’ll cry with all the love because it’s popping and bursting in my heart every day. I want to paint a masterpiece. And then destroy it. And then create another one, better this time. I want to take that masterpiece and stick it in the hearts of others. I want to make them feel. And I want to breathe notes into my flute that have so much aching love that even the deaf will hear their vibrations. I want to breathe under water. I want to chop down a tree, and be filled with loss. And then use my grief to plant a new one and then watch it grow for years and years and years. I want to be born in the bloom of a rose. And I want to run with the polar bears. And I want purple eyes and faster legs. I want wisdom and naivety and knowledge and innocence all at the same time. And I want to be young and beautiful, and old and flawed. And I want to jump on the neighbor’s trampoline until I jump so high I land on God’s cloud-bed. Say hi. Tell him that I think I might be okay. And then I’ll tell him that I’ve always wanted to climb into his lap and have him stroke my hair. And I want everyone to see me cry. And I want them all to cry with me in one endless stream of salt and water until we parch the very soil beneath our feet. I want to be vulnerable. And I want to be saved. I want to be miserable. And I want to be saved. I want to be broken. And I want to be put back together. I want to kiss the hand of a prince. I want to be in a movie. And I want to do magic. I want to take breathtaking photos and mail them to National Geographic. I want to feel. I want to learn. I want to grow. I want to feel. I want to touch. I want to inspire. I want to feel. I want. I want. I want.
October 28, 2009