what’s it going to take?

It occurred to me this week that this is a mighty powerful question.

What’s it going to take?

We usually use that phrase in dire circumstances. What’s it going to take for you to wake up? What’s it going to take for me to quit? What’s it going to take for them to realize?

But life is an urgent circumstance, really, when you think about it. Birth…miraculous. Survival…miraculous. Death…inevitable. Suffering…optional. Life…urgent.

I wonder what my days would be like if I approached my happiness with more urgency and insistence (like I do deadlines and should-do’s.)

I’ve GOT to meet my dancing quota! Come hell or high water, I WILL get a facial and lay in the sun! Wild horses couldn’t keep me from lunch with my girlfriends! Most important deadlines: to meander, to laugh until I snortle by noon every day, to see the first Robin bird of spring before the week is over.

So, in the spirit of urgent vitality, and not knowing when death may strike, and being acutely bored of my same old pattern of complaints, I’m asking myself, lovingly but firmly: LaPorte,

what’s it going to take for you to be incredibly joyful?

What’s it going to take for you to make an evolutionary leap as an artist, lover, mother, friend, human? What’s it going to take to get you to walk to the lake that’s four minutes from your house? What’s it going to take to get you on the dance floor? You want to eat life whole? To know God? To radiate pure love? What’s it going to take?

Now I want to cry. I think this exercise is backfiring. Because…I think it’s going to take everything I’ve got. Deep breath. Pause. I still want what I want. Softening.

And now I’m smiling. Because, hey! I’ve got so much to give.
I’ve…got what it takes. Most true desires come with capacity.


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