i’ve read that it is a sign of generational age to end texts with a period. to end sentences with punctuation on a medium that is meant to be quick and free of form. i like a good “.”. it says “That’s all.” in a Miranda Priestly sort of way. or maybe it’s more “Your turn.” a period brings closure. even though the conversation continues.
i’ve been traveling — i’m currently writing this fighting my body telling me it’s been time to go to bed for at least a while now. i was gone for two weeks in a place that was not unknown – but not as familiar as i thought. it felt so good to be back. i had to continuously remind myself that this is this time and not the trip from 20 years ago. i had to give myself permission – no, i had to insist! – to experience everything as if it was new. this is all new.
new towns. new accents. new castles. new mountains to climb. new relationships to explore. new neutrality to sit in.
i got to move through the space and time in a different space & time.
april is national poetry month. each morning i receive the Poem-a-Day. i don’t always read them. i may have shared one or two. i came back to this place and noticed that the last few posts were lyrics, verse. time to get back to writing.
in high school i fancied myself a slam poet — it was on trend at the time. there was a movie. slam poetry was accessible to a teenager growing up in the city at a particularly diverse school. it was necessary for a teenager with tension and oppression and privilege at a particularly diverse school. i was invited to read at various events, always standing out but also fitting in. we were all angry. we were all connected. we were all alone. we spoke the same love language.
this is one of the many places i learned to read a room. read each person, as if i’d known them for years. read them cover to cover. understand what they needed. understand where we connected; observe even the faintest touch: translucent linens, hanging out to dry on a hazy, sunny morning. just a whisper and i could find the passable bridge.
this has come in handy. this has crippled me. too much all at once separates soul from body from mind from present from past. the future happens, directionless. it has come in handy: promotions, friends, safety, efficient code switches.
poetry. i had to write a poem today for work. the “spring cleaning” newsletter. i searched for “cleanse poems” and “poem purification” and “cleansing quotes” and the algorithm served were verse and rants from holistic healers peddling new life through multi-day programs and righteous theists speaking of rebirth. are these people different? some say not really.
positively spring winds rush through my soul lifting my spirit. relief!
it’s been a minute. i’m too lazy to look at the date of my last post. i think it was a quote: so not really mine to begin with. post-lockdown (pre-second-lockdown?) life is busy. in mostly good ways, some a bit overwhelming.
i relish the times when the universe puts me in a spot where i’m asked/told/unknowingly invited to hold space. the past few weeks have presented me with a few such opportunities. i’m still dipping my toes back in after some time away. some times it’s like sitting down in a mountain river in late summer. the temperature is not too cold, but cold enough to remind you of where it came from. other times i urgently, briskly walk in the other direction. “nope.”
after months last year of stripping any interpersonal intuition. creating a misguided, haphazardly curated gallery of crackpot feelings, emotions, sensory “experiences”, mystical revelations, realities. it would make sense for me to write something like, “was it real?” “was it authentic?”
short answer: sure? i lived it, i made decisions that framed my life in that hazy filter. in that poorly rendered early version of augmented reality. i felt and experienced it. but in hindsight, it feels so disconnected. another cliché thing to write: it felt disconnected like in a dream. hazy filter. i’m running with that. the sum of all this was that earlier this year when things turned around a bit i realized that my bandwidth was limited for a number of reasons. mostly, i need(ed) to direct that time and energy to myself. holding space was not an option. the dealing with other peoples’ proverbial stuff store was operating limited hours. i had to be protective of myself. i was fragile. i am fragile.
she’s been doing Previews now. it’s been nice to feel my spirit open up a bit to other peoples’. to be honest i was beginning to get a bit worried i would forever be walled off. that the berlin wall i built around myself was a permanent fixture. that i would forever be standing on my 4th floor balcony of my brutalist East Berlin apartment longingly looking out at europe across the way.
well reagan had other plans apparently. feelings are returning. i just have to be sure to find that balance between selfless and selfish.
what a fucking trip, man. this life. but as i sit here, typing, i’ve got the tiniest of smiles cracked because for how much crazy has gone on, here i am. now. alright. ready for what’s next. ready to be equally alright with whatever it will be.
