71. James Smith Gypsies On The Autobahn
I spoke out recently in front of a group of people, with my family in attendance, hoping to give someone a glimpse of hope within some hopelessness, and spent the whole day in fear I had frightened or worried my loved ones.
A friend came to lend an ear and mentioned that he could hear my pain embedded in the words I spoke and the songs I write. I thought about this and simplified as much as I could for myself. There is pain we let go of and pain we hold on to; and it’s not the pain we let go of that scares our families. It’s the latter – the pain they don’t hear, that we etch on our skin and blockade in our throats that worries them.
So speak. Your family will hear you, like mine heard me, and it will lift something from you like nothing else, if only for a moment. But you can see life for what it is without the weight of the world forcing you to bend over and look at the dirt.