Everything will pass us by if we let it. And just as we never stop to consciously breathe, it’s a rather quick reality to find yourself not living. We are composed of moments and memories; the biological minutia of first glances, shooting stars, and road trips, these are the building blocks of life. And every once-while upon a little blue moon, someone or some thing, comes along and thrusts us awake. That’s when all you never knew becomes everything you fight to forget, and you wonder how you will ever go back to being the same; while deep down in your secret keep you know you never will. Because the bittersweet relish of that actuality is that once we have tasted what it means to “be”, we fall prey to the plight of the human being. To truly be alive is to be acutely aware of one’s dying. The sweetness of the hello is directly determined by the bitterness of the goodbye. This is why I kiss in jazz notes; rising, falling, slanting, scatting in and out, around and down. Most common practices are best deprived of routine so that they may never become trivial. Because surely as we can find ourselves alert, we can once again return to sleep.
And with that thought I say pause for a tiny spell as I take some time to flex, reflect, and learn how to become an even better kisser liver.
