One day you’re going to wake up and finally come to understand
that you weren’t meant for the life that was prescribed for you algorithmically
by the generations of forefathers who wanted nothing but the best for you
but were really concerned with your security and safety
and belonging and ability to raise healthy, thriving children
who would carry on that tradition of being secure,
maybe prosperous and healthy
into the future because that’s what life is
at the core level.
but the thing about going to school and doing all the other tasks
that they told you to do is that you also understand
that beyond the basic needs of safety health and belonging,
there are some ultimate goals belonging to creativity and purpose
that engenders all of the eons of this foundation of safety
laid by the cavemen and the farmers and lunch ladies who came before you.
And even though you’re not dead,
there is a light that speaks to you at the end of this tunnel.
it doesn’t say anything silly like that,
but rather propels you forward into a truth
where your authenticity is illuminated
and crusading for justice or painting naked ladies or landscapes
or finding the cure for ebola is an all-consuming,
dare I call it a passion.
yes, you’re going to find that one day
when you’re in the garden and you don’t want to go inside,
or a mountain, or the studio
that you’ve discovered a purpose and passion
that transcends all the safety and health things all the old people want for you.
In fact, you’ll lose your appetite, won’t worry so much about the bills,
and will care more about other people finding this life of passion too.
And that is the glorious moment
you realize that you’re actually looking down
from the top of the crow’s nest from the pirate ship you’re on
and it’s destination is death,
like everyone else’s,
but you’re happier up in the clouds for the journey anyway,
besides, if that’s the goal,
why not learn to fly also?
The fact is, you’ve turned into a butterfly already.
One that’s so brilliant that the spots and colors and magical wings
are absolutely impatient about flying around
in the clouds of the studio, the laboratory,
the protest against the loss of women’s rights.
Others will see these wings as beautiful.
But you know their secret: they enable you to fly.
And that’s the best, most powerful thing
of all that you can do with this creativity and purpose– to fly.
And all the old people who tried so hard
with their backs broken to pave a path
of comfortability, stability, and ease
couldn’t prepare you for this next part.
To get your wings moving,
truly soar above the world
with the passion,joy, and life that was meant for you,
you have to break out of the cocoon
which was so carefully spun with love
to keep you on the straight and narrow.
And that, dear, no one tells you,
is going to be the hardest of all.
Those cocoons are cemented with generations of well wishing.
They’re a son of a bitch to break out of.
But don’t think you can do it slowly and piece by piece.
Breaking out of those cliches,
busting through those walls
takes fortitude, strength, and resolution.
The kind you didn’t ever know you had.
But you need to break free.
You need to pound and pound with all your might,
giving every shred of energy you have to bust it open.
You must break free.
Your wings and your life depend on it.