It use to be that we were intelligent enough to comprehend all the subtle inclusions of a given written thought. Some where the masses moved from a beautiful tango, to Devo’s Whip It, to now people crave to have verbal maps and pictures spelled clearly out for them.
Some see this as an evolution of art and freedom of speech. I flip flop and now I wonder if it’s not a sign of free time but a sign that the mortal mind has been disconnected from the divine gift of discernment.
I guess I could blame Elvis or the Goonies. I just don’t see enticement if you have to go straight for the gold all the time.
Where is that certain je ne sais quoi.
That thing that drives the languages of love. That spark burning and yearning for the presence of a loved one.
Don’t get me wrong, there are times a frontal assault is the best option, warrantied, or desired.
Though, prefer life to be full with those things that drive my heart, mind, body, and soul. It forces my creativity, spurs my idleness into action, my curiosity into discovery, and my word into bonds.
I’m not advocating running around aimlessly. I’m saying we all know on some level the score, just listen to the music and see where the mood takes you, instead of always trying to get right to the Harlem Shake.
aka Soulbound Heart