I have a barbaric YAWP, and I also have a place to which my mind and body--nay, my soul--has to go before I can sound it aloud to the world.
Music does it to me, mostly. Fantastic conversations. Illuminating discoveries. Sentences so perfectly crafted they make me want to laugh and cry and rip things apart and patch things back together again. Maps of foreign countries. Instances where love wins out. Tears for no reason at all, or for every reason in the world.
In that paradoxical contradiction--between supreme emotions that do not often live together--I find what I believe to be bits and pieces of the eternal. Things that God leaves for us to know what it is to live forever in longlasting joy. The kind of joy that makes you want to implode. The kind of joy that comes from deep, deep, and goes higher than anything. Sweeping, glorious, breathtaking, scandalous joy.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric YAWP over the rooftops of the world.