April 28, 2015.
Starts at sunrise and ends at 11:59pm.
Wear your sweats or your boas or both. Come barefoot or in stilettos. If you were up all night in agonizing pain, come and we’ll rub your feet and tuck you in. If you slept like a babe and woke rested and read to conquer, come be the life of the party, let your energy be the only contagion the world needs.
Tapped out by yesterday? This is your chance to replenish. Tapped into the light? Walk your true path, laugh, and show me the dance steps my feet fumble guessing at.
This invitation is writ large across the sky, in bold yellows and pinks. My daughter tells me people either love or hate the color orange. Both camps are welcome. Whatever you do, don’t save the date. Spend it all.
Today is a quiet revolution. A riot of birds and injustice, a city of rubble and a brand-new bulb. The conversation that had you in tears is old news already. The thing you were trying so hard to figure out can work on itself, a knot that will loosen only when you stop futzing with it.
Do you have a body? Do you have a moment? String the words together and see what happens. The sun on your right temple feels warm, and we’re just getting warmed up.
If you have a wife, love her up. If you don’t or you need one, maybe today is the day. Truth is, anything could happen between now and darkness. Say yes at least once. Say no when you want to say no.
Don’t take my word for it. This is just an invitation. No need to RSVP. If you miss it, there’s another party tomorrow, April 29. I’ll look for you there, and be the one with the big hair.
This post was adapted from my freewrite for today’s prompt in my current two-week groups. If you’re ready to write, or to write more freely, have a look at all the ways we can practice together.
Image: From Shilpa Gupta’s 2013 installation, “I live under your sky too”