I woke up this morning, not really knowing what side of the bed to crawl out of. Feeling equal parts fortunate and anxious. Completely blessed and all kinds of scared. Lemonade and Please Feed The Animals have, as I say in the trailer, been my life’s work. I can’t imagine doing anything else. And there’s no way I’m stopping.
As of today, neither venture has generated a dime. Any progress, all the press, so far have been because of the amazing generosity of Picture Park, Skookum, Finish, numerous guest bloggers, and the individual selfless acts of too many Animals to mention here, none of whom have asked for a single thing in return.
Yet I ran this morning, head down, brooding over the things that aren’t. Real things that can’t be ignored. Like, are we going to have to sell our house? And, the preschool bills need paying. And, how am I going to do the million things I need to do to finish the movie, get the new PFTA site up, and be the Lemonade I preach?
I stared downward at the canvas of black tar and sidewalk pebbles, my white New Balance rhythmically entering my line of site, absorbed in a self-flagellating trance. All I could think was, man, I paid too much for these shoes.
And then I heard a loud, almost-angry squawk. There, in this little pond that marks the 1-mile point on my run, was this enormous, majestic swan. Several yards away on the shoreline sat a bunch of inferior-feeling ducks, watching in what I read to be a combination of awe and intimidation.
I stopped and joined them. Taking in the amazing sight. Not knowing or caring what she was doing there. Not knowing or caring about anything. Except wishing that I knew how to speak swan.