I cried today and let a part of myself go

by You Have My Word

I cried today. The kind of tears you can’t stop. Not the violent kind that forces their way up your throat and through your eyes, but the kind that take their time to leak and let loose slowly. I cried today in a moment that was so overwhelming and so all-encompassing that the only response I could extend was to let a part of myself go.

I cried today, but not for the reason you might think. I was sat in a pivotal presentation to a client, pitching for a momentous television campaign. We had the concept scripted and storyboarded and presented in a way that would be convincing.

Without warning, I had a Stendhal experience in the middle of it all. He penned his encounter like this:

“my head thrown back, i let my gaze dwell on the ceiling, i underwent the profoundest experience of ecstasy i have ever encountered. i had attained that supreme degree of sensibility where the divine intimations of art merge with the impassioned sensuality of emotion. i long for those rare moments when i shiver with the rush of altered consciousness. in an ephemeral blast of time’s breath, it’s like the universe reveals itself and there is a mutual recognition of all things. but as quick as it manifests it slams shut its window, only leaving the essence like some intoxicating perfume that remains after someone has left the room.”

The power of concept, the standard of writing, the phenomenal application of art culminated in the most moving presentation of art. I was so in awe, so profoundly struck by the treasure it is to be able to create. I am not one to be pretentious or promulgate superfluously about moments like this; my response was not contrived.

I cried today. I sat in the back row of an auditorium and cried the kind of tears that can’t be stopped, and I didn’t care one bit. I cried because it was so overwhelming and all-encompassing that the only response I could extend was to let a part of myself go.