So this is it...
Filmed in Biarritz, France, and Midwest USA, it's the heart behind everything we do and the message that has changed us forever…
“Please, God…” I paused my silent prayer and cleared my throat, momentarily unsure of what to ask for, “…please just break my heart in front of these people, I guess.”
I was minutes away from stepping out of the shadows and into the brightly defined circle of the stage spotlight.
And I was suddenly, inexplicably, very thirsty…
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I slowly let out a long breath through pursed lips.
I was slouching over my wooden desk, propping my chin up with my arms - my elbows were growing steadily more red and sore as the minutes passed.
Half an hour ago I had been sitting straight up, concentrating on my posture. But after staring down at my blank notebook for thirty minutes I had given up trying to fight gravity.
I watched the wick of my candle begin to sputter and realized that I had been thinking about a lot of different things, and none of them were what I had set this time aside to think about.
The sun was setting and I knew that by the time I saw it rise I would need to have something written out on this notebook…
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“Guys, check it out…. I think I might have something…”
I gripped the cast-iron railing and moved onto the narrow spiral staircase, descending as quickly as I could in a kind of half-stumble, half spinning slide. The rest of the team looked up from where they were seated on a large sectional couch in the middle of the hardwood recording-room floor.
“Cool - let’s hear it…”
The tone was encouraging. Expectant, even… but guarded.
The neighbor’s tree just came down!”
My brother-in-law, Pierre, leaned over the couch and watched the storm.
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
I took a deep breath in and out, hoping that it would calm me down, but my heart still raced.
Debris and a thick wall of rain moved horizontally past our window at a hundred miles an hour making it hard to see much...
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“What are we even doing here?”
I furrowed my brow slightly and pulled at the tight collar of my button-down shirt but refrained from speaking the question out loud. The flimsy plastic chair underneath me shifted precariously with the slight movement and I willed myself to stop fidgeting…
“This…” my voice was barely a whisper in the pre-dawn darkness, “This is crazy…”
By this point, it would be safe to say that I was “stumbling” from exhaustion - except for a three-hour nap in the middle of the night, I had been working frantically for nearly twenty-four hours to clean up our heavily storm-damaged property and protect it from further damage.
About two hours before dawn I had forced myself to take a quick walk in order to clear my head…
But I was genuinely, truly exhausted…
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The crash came at shortly after 2:00 AM.
It was actually more of a wet ripping sound followed by an impact that I felt from across the house.
“Ah man…” I rubbed my eyes, sat up in bed, and swung my feet onto the floor.
I hadn’t really been sleeping anyway…