I’m proposing a new holiday – Real Talk Day – where no one works and everyone talks about what’s important to them.
And you can’t just cop out and say “family.” You have to go deeper than that. And if you’re not answering the question, you have to listen, even if it’s the bus driver or your boss or the people you live with who you think you already know backwards and forwards (in other words, your family).
On Real Talk Day, people skip the small talk and drop down a level or two to that place we go when there’s a crisis, or when the power goes out, or when your time together is nearly up and you’re standing at the door with your hand on the doorknob and what you really want to say bubbles up effortlessly and comes out awkwardly:
Imagine if we started in that place, first thing in the morning, and everybody knew we were in that place. How different we would look at each other! How far we could go!
Conversations would start with a shy smile or an awkward joke – hey you’re not following the rules – and laughter and more laughter and then two people from opposite ends of the world would go somewhere together they’re afraid to go, even with those that are closest to them. And they’d go there and come out with their hearts lighter and tears in the corners of their eyes, surprised by how anxious they are to get home, and how difficult it is to pull apart from each other.
And at the end of Real Talk Day, each of us would lay down amazed by how much we accomplished in one day, how we’re no longer stuck, free from our patterns, more in love with the people around us, perhaps a little bit scared and a little uncomfortable, maybe even feeling that sharp tinge of loneliness that comes after we’ve been up all night and we notice the sun is about to rise.
Full and empty at the same time. Tired and awake. Wide open to what comes next.