emerging from the cave
asking to be seen + known :))))
it’s springtime again.
while there is nothing to thaw here, the air is different; jasmine and citrus and welcomed breeze.
The same breeze that felt much less welcomed two weeks ago when the rain continued creeping past its January bounds. seemingly nothing but wet and gray for months. in truth, the sun probably did shine more often than not. but winter was long and eroding.
it’s springtime again and I’m speaking to myself as a mother rather than a captor.
i’m remembering to look people in the eyes. to look myself in the eyes.
i’m remembering all the wisdom that returned with the sun last spring.
Today I read from Yumi Sakugawa,
“We must remember again and again because we will forget again and again
…
What in your life needs remembering again and again and how can you make this remembering again and again more frequent?”
[ I wrote this week: ]
i cannot yet save the world i cannot ever save the world to view the world as something to fix and save necessitates that i view myself as something to fix and save it says that all of this and me too are broken i want to and need to be of the world i want to and need to let it wash over me there is much to change there is so much room to grow into there is so much joy to return to the people but we cannot shame ourselves into joy we cannot fix ourselves into pleasure we must know it exists we must look and feel for it in every inch we must believe in our bodies and all it knows there is nothing to solve there is only everything to uncover i am not something to solve i am not a cancer to eradicate
each moment passes just as swollen with life as the last— each moment just as worthy of mourning its loss. each deepening the pocket of our feeling; forcing its hand through ripped seams at the bottom; threading its whole body through to discover new grounds, new ways of feeling the same feelings. what is The Work if not commemorating these moments? weighing a shared, stolen glance just as wonderous as the end of war. there are differences, of course, but pretending our joys, our pains, our moments of body-tingling levity are forever eclipsed by something, somewhere grander than what we know is denying the grandness of our own, individual lives. what is The Work if not a strive towards allowing these small, individual lives to be as they are, feel as they do, take up as much or little space as the container they seek? what is The Work if not a pin to press into the map of time? to have proof— if only for a moment— that you were here, and there, and here again. The Work is not the suffering or talking about the suffering or finding the exact correct combination of answers to the suffering. the suffering is but one piece of the many avenues for The Work to take place. resist the urge to find meaning in only the proliferation of suffering’s existence. The Work is far more expansive than that. you know it to be true— you feel it in your longings; your yearnings. what is The Work if not to say I am here and that is enough?
Whether it is the sun or the season’s change or my experience with emotional extremes every day for the past few weeks, I am remembering. i am not yet sure how to do so more frequently.
On Instagram (from a TikTok that was taken from a podcast from a previously unrecorded conversation) I heard, “sometimes i feel like i lead an emotionally complex life and then the sun comes out and i’m happy. so, functionally, I am no different than a big leaf” -@nschoen23
i like being a big leaf. for now, i’ll trust the sun to keep reminding me.
a week in Joy
remembering; brief hellos and drop-bys; a meal + corresponding poem from friends; spelling poem “peom” six times just now; a long, slow, sunny Sunday; an unexpected nap in the den of the teahouse; new books; the time spent searching for them; giggling + playing pretend with friends and my partner; brother matched to a residency program (!); laughing and sharing show recommendations with my brothers; gazing into the eyes of 3 strangers for 5 minutes each; my full belly; finishing a project at work, doing it well; relief; laying in bed with my partner; feeling physically stronger than i have in years; recognizing the gentleness of my internal monologue; outside with favorite people; climbing big wall
a week in Grief
Dad; Gaza; Nex Benedict; Ryan Gainer; picturing a stranger at the end of their life; picturing my loved ones at the end of theirs; did i look them in the eye enough?; Dad; Mom; growing apart from friends; feeling like my stories evaporate when the people that hold them leave; feeling like i evaporate when the people that hold me leave; discovering an abnormal beat of my partner’s heart; listening for it while laying on his chest; hearing it; health anxiety; i just want to trust the world to take care of us; thoughtlessly killing a small fly on my arm
holding it all, all of the time.
pouring it out through creative work so i don’t have to hold it all alone.
thank you for seeing me
i love you
<3
oof, i loved this
Great essay! I'm glad you're back to writing here! xx