What is the reason you live?
Today in dance, we were talking about music and how it hits you, and the beat hits you, and you can feel it in your veins. Music, for me, is more than just pleasant listening material. I want to feel it. I want to become the song. I want to soak my body in its rhythm.
When I'm upset or angry or frustrated or so full of passion I think I'm going to scream if I don't let it out, I turn up my radio in the car and blare it so that I can barely focus on driving. All I feel is that moment, that anger, that pain. And at that moment, honestly, I'm not sure that I would care if a semi hit me head-on.
When you're so filled with feelings you can't describe; when your inner screaming is louder than your thoughts; when you want to bang your fist on the steering wheel just to feel the pain travel up your arm; when the music pounding in your speakers is the tattoo of your heart...
...when you're so alive that you can't die...
Those are the most dangerous and most beautiful and most awful moments of your life.
Passion is more than a feeling. It is a way of living, of hurting, of existing. It can be the most wonderful thing, and the worst thing, in a person's life. It can be the reason you smile and stare in wonder, the reason you work so hard, the reason you see all the work paying off, the reason you wake up early. It can also be the cause of tears, of frustration, of crying late at night because you're not sure what else to do, of swallowing your pride and saying, "I'll do better next time."
The reason you're frantically typing behind a blog post, trying to find the right words...but failing miserably and being eternally frustrated because you'll never be able to communicate exactly what you want to.
Writing and acting are my passions. They are things that I love. Things that I hate. And things that keeps my mind spinning in endless possibilities. There are times when I wish I had other passions––writing music, for example. I love writing music, but I don't have much talent for it. However, some emotions are better expressed through music than writing, and it upsets me that I'm not able to make that connection. Also dance. There are dances I have seen that have made me physically sob in front of everyone. And I'll hear a song and picture choreography in my mind, but I have no idea how to go about making it happen. I'm not a good dancer. I'll leave it at that.
When I say passion, I don't mean something that I like to do "that I'm passionate" about. No, passion is something living inside you that drives you to speak, to move, to think, to love, to hate. It is more than a feeling you get every once in a while; more than a feeling that decides which career path you take.
It is a way of communicating. It is a way of living. It is your breath, your being. And passion has to be bled out through your veins in one form or another.
For me, it's words. Words and the stage. And when words bottle up and I'm afraid to show the world what I write for fear of being judged; when I can't connect to a certain character and I feel like I'm letting my director and fellow cast down; when I can't think because I'm choking on my own insecurity; when all I want to do is scream so loud it drowns out everything else...
I turn to music. I turn to the loud rhythm that pulses in my wrists. I turn to the instruments that scream a beautiful pain inside my head.
And I drive.