22 (21) June 2013
My uncle and aunt came to see the show in Glasgow today. At the end of it, Peter said, “She’s the girl who was afraid.” Sara said, “No, no. She was the girl who was not afraid, right?” The song is called “I’m Not Afraid”. But… I loved Peter in that moment for seeing the depth of the song. For seeing the fear. For seeing the question. I just found this video on youtube of Jason Gotay singing the song, and I think he captures it:
I’m not… afraid? Of.. anything?
If it were a poem, line breaks would be spectacular:
I’m not afraid of anything
be it growing old
or going out of style.
I’m not afraid
Who would give up
what they want
without a trial?
I’ve been trying to find out where to go from here. I don’t think I have a set answer or a definitive direction. All I know is what I feel. And I feel alive with music running through me. I feel like my thoughts and my stories make a better melody in my head. I feel like poetry is when a story sings on breath and air. I feel like, I feel like, I feel. I feel like I get it. For the first time. I get it.
It’s about understanding yourself, I think. Knowing what you’re good for, listening to what your heart really wants. I used to bury myself in books. I still do, to an extent. But then I also emerge to sing. I feel like a butterfly: the page is my cocoon. My wings are the song. It’s a good balance of self and other, of private and public, of rest and freedom. It is a strong balance. How will my life maintain it?
To say goodnight would be to miss so much of the story.