make some noise

IMG_1025.JPGIt’s odd that the suggestion of softening into it would make me think of pulling a fire truck.  I think what I’m getting at is that I can’t do it alone.  If you want me to breathe in this wreckage, I need you to stand nearby and scream at me like I’m in a Strongman competition.

I’ve breathed through the wreckage before.  I know it’s the only way.  And I know this too: that breathing in wreckage, softening into loss, is a thing that needs to be done over and over.  It’s like brushing your teeth, but on a heroic cosmic scale.  Soul hygiene.  In that way, it’s completely unlike pulling a fire truck.  I’m pretty sure I’ll never feel the need to pull a fire truck again.

If you want me to breathe in this wreckage, I need to know you’re there.  I need to know that when I’m sucking in air as hard as I can to fuel the muscles in my butt, when my brain is starving for oxygen because all the blood is somewhere else, someone will yell “JUST MOVE YOUR RIGHT FOOT FORWARD!”  Because softening into the loss again is going to make me too stupid to know what to do with my feet.

I need someone yelling.  I need a whole crowd.

Time to mail out tickets.  I’ll invite Jesus, and Kwan Yin, and all my Fairy Godmothers, and my grandfather and Anya-who-gave-me-the-key.  And you, my dear.  Please come.

I need someone to help me put on the harness.  I need someone to move the rope out of my way so I don’t trip over it.  I need someone to sit in the driver’s seat and make sure the truck doesn’t run me over.

And I need everyone to make some fucking noise.