Monday, April 4, 2011

and, as the winds die down,

Tea is for toska, for healing the soul,
Smoothing the wrinkles and patching the holes;
The kettle is whistling and the world falls away,
Steeping and weeping, it colours the day.
The bitterest bits bite,
Not out of spite,
But to remind us that
Wherever we are, and
Whoever we be,
There is always more
Than just you and me.

(day seventy-one)

Over the weekend, I managed to accidentally accomplish one of my goals.

I spent the entirety of Saturday on the set of an independent horror film, written and directed by Matt Mudd. Much of my downtime was spent in the makeup trailer/green room with the rest of the actors, and at one point I found myself playing my guitar. And singing. More than a dozen people whose names I did not know, and yet I played. Serenade a stranger. Check.

I had a blast on set, and I did more than just get my feet wet. I’m going back this weekend, and I’ve made a few new friends; it’s breathed a bit of life into the fire in my soul, and I’m grateful for it.

Come, my dear, we have oceans to sail.

-Viens avec moi?


1 comment:

  1. For the record, I feel this doesn't count as serenading a stranger. Serenading is intimate and one-on-one -- singing in front of a group of strangers isn't nearly the same. Let's get together -- you and me and your guitar, and we'll work on a song that we can serenade a stranger with together.