Recently I have grown tired of labels, categories, definitions and concepts. They all seem to get in the way of just being.
At times I found being difficult, but now I realize it was growing pains and never settling for less, which sometimes meant I went without. I still go without some things these days, but when I remember that the alternative would be to compromise what I stand for, then the choice becomes easy.
There can be comfort in finding a word for something you have always felt you are; a recognition, a reflection, a sense that you are not alone, not singular, that you belong. But every label I try on for size eventually chafes or itches or rubs me the wrong way. And so I flit between here and there, walk this way and that way, take a bit of some and more of another. Ever the tightrope. Maybe one day I might fall off and land in the camps assembled on either side.
I’ve peeled away so many layers to examine if something went wrong in the assembly of me that I forgot the possibility that there might not actually be anything wrong at all. Humans, after all, are not measured in perfection, and what others sometimes have perceived as my flaws – like my love for melancholy or my desire to always do better – might actually be my strength and the very pillars from which everything else suspends.
Once winter has come and gone, it might be time to shed the security blankets I have been dragging along, because they no longer serve me. To accept that the easiest thing I can do, the easiest way of living this life, is to just live and be.
“The house don’t fall if the bones are good.”
[Part 22 of Volume 2 of my “Thinking in Acronyms” series”]
Phoebe's Pond 