I have this dear friend who is lovely and organized and plans beautifully and loves well, and who has grown more than just about anyone I know in the past couple years in terms of authenticity and depth and truth-telling. And despite how different we are in all our facets, something about us just works. I delight in doing life with her and of late, have seen her to be one of those friends who is not only cherished as a peer, but sort of acts as my fan and manager too. You see, she believes in me. I have always felt she just sort of knew there was more in me and loved to affirm and call it out and tell me to do something with it. And so that weekend when I realized I was to begin writing, she was the one that called out the lie, the one that responded sassily and courageously to my “I have nothing new to add” with the truth. Without missing a beat, she cried out with laughter and conviction because it was both silly and piercing to the core, “LIES! LIES!”
Right when she heard it, heard the lie, my lie, she knew it had to be exposed, called out, yelled at so that it could shrivel up and die and make room for new life.
And the next day, the next morning in fact, I woke up at 430 am with a new dream, a vision for this, this collection of writings and stories and questions and pictures, not so much because I have anything to add to the world out there, but because there is something in me that just needs to obey the truth. To bury the lie. To give voice to new life.