now we see things as in a mirror, dimly (cross-posted)
i know a man who only takes pictures of the sky. he has hundreds, catalogued and dated, and he brings his camera to me at work, asks me what i think. i say that they are beautiful and it doesn't take long to realize that that's the wrong answer. he tells me that the clouds we see are all chemical, jet streams, something someone put there on purpose. i don't know what to say to him so i smile with my eyes and make a motion with my head like i have to go do something in the store, and i probably do, but really i just can't keep looking at something high above me that is supposed to be perfect when he's telling me it's not. and so now i bike home, fingers icy on the handlebars, wind like ice cutting its teeth on my skin, staring up and trying to figure out if the sky up above me is supposed to be there, that way.
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this got me thinking about our definitions of things. or, our definitions of ourselves, and why they become so important. or, rather, mine. and how i am amazed at how quickly i self-define, like i have to get there before anyone else does, like if they label me first then i've lost something of myself.
but really, really, what happens is that i lose that part of myself, myself. because i've always had so many options, and sometimes it feels easier just to choose than to have to explain some hard little core of sense memory that might invoke pity or fear. but not anymore. it's more confusing for me to have to justify to myself why i don't act on my inside aches than it will ever be to have to deal with other people's inability to understand that definitions shift. we are nothing but so much fluid, unpinnable, we try to hold ourselves to something that feels safe, but it will never feel right. so, here's to a year of liquid courage, of bravery without borders. let's be here.
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this got me thinking about our definitions of things. or, our definitions of ourselves, and why they become so important. or, rather, mine. and how i am amazed at how quickly i self-define, like i have to get there before anyone else does, like if they label me first then i've lost something of myself.
but really, really, what happens is that i lose that part of myself, myself. because i've always had so many options, and sometimes it feels easier just to choose than to have to explain some hard little core of sense memory that might invoke pity or fear. but not anymore. it's more confusing for me to have to justify to myself why i don't act on my inside aches than it will ever be to have to deal with other people's inability to understand that definitions shift. we are nothing but so much fluid, unpinnable, we try to hold ourselves to something that feels safe, but it will never feel right. so, here's to a year of liquid courage, of bravery without borders. let's be here.