Why?

Sometimes, I've found, the universe hands you exactly what it is you need without you having to search it out.

The director of the show that I'm working on is taking a different route to prepping us for than what I'm used to. As it turns out, it's work doing something I've needed work on.

Last night, after some exercises, we sat around and talked about the play itself, started dissecting it. I get off on this sort of thing, I get all wanky and intellectually masturbatory. The discussion began to spark connections in my head left and right, and I walked home with my mind whirling.

The question that was asked that is really sticking with me though, is why celebrate imagination.

My first reaction is to yell, "Because!" I can come up with a number of controlled answers and I can state that I simply believe it, that imagination is precious and I simply know that. But then I begin to feel like those people who blindly follow leaders, political and religious, and never ask questions of these leaders or themselves.

That, by the way, takes imagination.

This began to seep in this morning when I sat down to write a post here. I wasn't quite sure where to start, and then the tidal wave of questions that had begun as a slight tremor last night came rolling in. I began asking myself why I even do it anyway, why I write at all. This frightened little voice suddenly shot out, "if you start asking too many questions, that wall that you're standing on is gonna come falling down."

Questions are like cannonballs; well aimed ones can shake your foundations. Then again, if your beliefs are strong enough, all the fire power in the world won't take them down. So what's the problem with possibly knocking down what I'm standing on? You can tell how strong it is, and possibly more importantly, you can determine if you even need that wall to begin with.

And man, if you're not brave enough to face that, you don't deserve to stand on that wall.