Bismillah ir Rahman ir Raheem
Was feeling particularly joyful today, so I went for it. It might be because there’s talk of a snow storm tomorrow and I’m flying out of Denver to New York during said snow storm. With a baby. His first time on a flight. Joy. I hope he loves travel as much as I do (eventually).
Maybe it’s because hubby and I have bought gifts for practically everyone in Sri Lanka and I’m feeling a little slap-happy.
Maybe it’s because there’s so many variables in the coming experience (plane, baby, 24 hours of flying) that I have no choice but to let go. Maybe I’ve finally found my Zen.
Or maybe I’m just tired. Choose your own adventure.
Truth is, the scene description on my new spec is kicking my backside. So I’m trying to get back in touch with brevity and capturing an emotion or an image in a few VERY well-chosen words.
Screenplays, I think, should be like poetry. A moment in time crystallized for posterity. But because they are longer and more commercial, they are more complicated. Oh well.
Here it is.
I love being human
I love my split ends and hang nails.
Yeah. I said it.
Wiping poop off my son’s butt is a freaking miracle.
I’m told I should lust for God.
But I find God in my lusts
For macaroons and laughter.
For aliens and rabbit holes and electric storms and failure
I love that I’m too big to be contained by department store threads.
There is something beautiful in everything.
And no, this isn’t a paradise.
If I don’t find clothes that fit me, I’d be naked. And cold.
I didn’t find Bermuda without jet lag.
I didn’t find the love of my life without heartbreak
I didn’t find God without being human.
I love being human. I love looking for God. I love finding Him where I least expect it.
And I don’t care who knows it.