I once woke up crying. It was the oddest experience. I hadn’t been feeling sad when I went to sleep, and I didn’t feel sad as I awoke, but there were tears all over my face in the morning. I couldn’t even remember what I’d been dreaming about, and the whole incident is so long ago now that it’s as hazy as my blurred view of the bedroom.
I know why the incident is back in my mind. I’ve woken up hungry. Not literally, you understand, but metaphorically. Something’s happened of late and my senses are alive and my appetite’s beginning to make some noise.
I’ve written about cynicism before, and there’s a natural inclination to consider that this is just another phase, that the emotions are just a little rawer than usual, that it will pass.
But while I value the input my cynicism has at certain times, this is one of them where I’m shoving it a pasty and diet Coke and telling it to shut it.
I’m waking up hungry, and I want to inhale beauty, passion, inspiration, truth, hope, words and more. I don’t know how long it’s been going on, but it seems like this is the time to break the fast.
So what’s on my plate? What am I hungry for?
Soul music. Not the sort that demands an overbite shuffle and gentle hips… I’m talking about the stuff that soars and peaks and paints the sky. I’m finding it here and here.
Running along the Thames.
The approach to Easter.
My mother’s annotated Bible.
Memories of one of the greatest novels I think I’ve ever read.
And somehow, in the midst of all this increased appetite I’m finding that the things that usually bother me – the times when we get it wrong, the gap between integrity and action, the wasted potential – have shrunk a little.
Who knows what this fuel is for, but right now the intake is enough of an experience in itself.
I’m wondering if I’m the only one?
Filed under: the first domino
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