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| my heart, my body, my brain |
The waiting of three months with not-knowing certainty pushed me to new limits of patience and understanding. With its end came sadness, but at least also a sense of finality. In the three weeks that have passed I’ve been trying to openly embrace my transition into a different phase, but here, it’s been difficult. Arriving at this new place meant acknowledging that the few things I held close were more deeply falling away. Truthfully, I can muster heavy welcomes to greet these changes, and despite my wish to be filled with the lightness of being, I’m holding breath with my insecurities. Keeping them next to me without pushing away means finding new resources of courage to battle the loneliness of independence. In the meantime, I’ve managed to maintain. It results, however, in a penetrating silence.
At once, I turn to write. To explain. If only through signs and gestures.
What one fears must not be stated was admitted in these past few weeks. Numerous times. It’s been no secret, however, that the narrow path which leads to a well-outlined yet seldom-realized future has always stirred up fears of compromise and settling in me. Nevertheless, the audience changes everything. Lest one be confused, I’m referencing multiple things, for the pattern is similar and provides a structure for one big picture. Within a matter of days I managed to articulate my biggest worry of becoming something that I never wanted to be–pushed further ahead, yet at the same time away, by the expectations of what it means to do philosophy. Without missing a beat, questions of love, passion, commitment, insight, creativity, and utilizing one’s strengths immediately come to the surface. Not surprising, of course, because strengths serve as anchor points. They find holds, take root, and support successes. Like seeds, they are what nourish any amount of life, growth, and change, and once planted, something can emerge. The matter for consideration is where to do one’s planting. In whom and under what conditions. At the same time, I wonder if one can wait to realize a different when.
At these moments I can feel overwhelmed, discouraged, and weak. It’s not the levels of complexity that I see which feel burdensome, but rather the inability to share with others what is burgeoning within me. Words cannot be robust or quick enough. They would each need something like four dimensions in order to reach across the overlaps and the scope that constitutes the nexus within me. So I turn elsewhere for inspiration. As I hold my exhale, I read.
Thinking back on all that I have gained in the last year and the efforts that I put in to bear those fruits, the light falls on my relationships. But my sadness is compounded by the fact that one of my most unique relationships has had to be reshaped, relegated, and in a sense, released. For years I longed for time enough to develop a sufficient amount of understanding, to acquire the required sense for feeling meaning and living theory, and finally, after five months of realizing this profound connection, my own experience has left me speechless. The reality is that I am not capable of overlooking this insufficiency. It seems strange that the words of another who is so different could resonate so intimately, and yet like any love relationship, it takes effort and commitment to meet with someone in this space. That, no doubt, is a rare achievement. Don’t let another beat skip. You might mishear what I mean. Nevertheless, I feel something like a sense of…betrayal, for his words have wrapped me in a contradiction that is nearly too difficult to bear. A ‘Yes’ means I do, and the affirmation reaches to my bones. But simultaneously, such an affirmation leaves me feeling alone. The deeper I go, the harder it is to wear the necessary masks and perform. I do not resent him for sharing his wisdom, and I know that my task it to go on, but for the next year, I am making it all up from a false start. And I anticipate what a struggle it will be to remain on the surface and play as I outline the contours of these errors.
