The Crazies’ Manifesto.
“‘There’s a good kind of crazy…’ he insisted softly, reaching out to wrap his warm hand around mine. ‘It’s the kind that makes you think about things that make your head hurt, because not thinking about them is the coward’s way out. The kind that makes you touch people who bruise your soul, just because they need to be touched. This is the kind of crazy that lets you stare out into the darkness and rage at eternity, while it stares back at you, ready to swallow you whole.’” (Rachel Vincent)
Dear Crazy,
If you’ve ever been swallowed by the same eternity — posing as darkness, posing as undomesticated, unscripted, messy you… or if you’re just the foolish kind that jumps off cliffs with no parachute, even though it hurts, because… well, because it’s the right and truthful thing to do…
And if, say you’re somewhat lonely — though not alone, somewhat sad — though not broken, and somewhat tired — though wide awake and restless, please stand up.
Take a deep breath. Clear your throat. Look your Self in the eyes. Place your hand over your beaten heart. And let’s declare our independence from the norm.
But first, press play. ‘Cause Crazy without Epic is… just Cray.
1. I will remember what it was like to be born, and all the beautiful things I used to point at before I could speak them. I’ll reinvent curiosity and memorize delight.
2. I will forgive, because no one survives. I’ll keep the bruises but get rid of the blue. I’ll kiss my Judas back. (I have my own crosses to carry).
3. I will believe in ghosts and fairy tales. And elves and science fiction. I won’t declare a world impossible until I’ve tried to build it with my hands and when my pulse shakes like a leaf, I’ll say sure, let’s, why not.
4. I will fight with the sword of my tongue, not my fists. I’ll also fight with my silence and lips. And turn all my blood into metaphor and blossom my way into fierce cherry trees.
5. I will love like it’s the end of the world and the house is on fire. And if it’s not, I’ll bring the matches. I’ll love even when I don’t, or when I lose, or when love’s fleeting like sunsets or thick like bone or long or heavy or boring, like this Book of Life I’m never done reading and writing.
6. I will live every day like it never happened before or like a tune to a song still unwritten. And I’ll record every hour on my face, and in this short-lived human dilemma, I’ll try to be in all my pictures, heartbeats, adventures and wrinkles.
7. I will dream up my reality. I won’t be reasonable or realistic. I’ll write sideways on lined paper and I’ll always put heart over matter and imagination over knowledge.
8. I will create a thousand planets from scratch, and then I’ll add them to the Milky Way so I can help expand the universe. I’ll make up a new language out of dust and come up with a hundred different ways to say your name.
9. I will be honest rather than loyal. Because to get through the dark forests of life you need a lamp, not a shadow, and trust is not a blind soldier but the soul’s one and only chief of staff.
10. I will be wild and untamed. I will believe in wolves. I’ll be insane, uncivilized, emotional and personal. And I will take the ring to Mordor even if I don’t know where Mordor is. I’ll be the child I left behind. I’ll be the door and key to me.
11. And when I come to die, the only thing I will regret is leaving all my stories, unfinished, on your chest. But I should hope to live in such a way, that time would breathe me out and back into your lungs, until there’s no more me or you or words or why.
{Previously posted on elephant journal.}
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