I’m still searching for a comfortable way to be in the world. I’m still struggling with wanting to be seen, while wanting the freedom to keep growing in ways that being seen prevents.
Lately for no particular reason I can discover, I get flashbacks of events of my life – arriving from another perspective. It’s uncomfortable. It requires an active application of self-compassion to get through the moment. And sometimes through the day.
I also find myself rebelling against social currents now in a way I don’t think I ever have before. When I was younger, my rebellion was personal. Within the reach of my body. I was in a hurry to get past it all.
Past it, I don’t want to learn the language of the public stockade that is social media. I don’t want to memorize the list of new cultural crimes where the more subtle the context, the more hamfisted the punishment.
I thought I understood what “the personal is political” meant. Now I feel that the political is – has always been immediate. Awkward perspectives: a meritocracy of hurt.
Nothing is ever
and for-ever is enough
for every-a thing is
the passing storm and the breeze
already and never been
Slipping out of the room where the grown-ups are fighting. Someone always gets hurt. Someone always feels shame. And there’s always too much to go around just once.
I need a shower and a good cry.
Then a run along the lake.