presentfuture | regeneration
On the last day of this month I'll reach 29 years of life, the final year I can claim under the reign of my twenties. Twenty nine years! And still young. This aging thing we all do is a marvel.
I feel as though I've been re calibrating lately. I want to speak from more recesses of myself, spaces tucked away from sharing for fear of scrutiny and dismissal. If I show the world I'm struggling or if I show the world my triumphs, they may reject me. How many of us live with some version of this spirit-castration—cowed by culture in some race to be more more hurt, more dark as equally as being more flawless, more enlightened. Well, I don't want to race. I don't want to cater to the audience. I want to live my own truth—to invite the audience, real or imagined, to tune in and care for one another.
A sweet fond friend of mine has been setting a fine example in an area I've increasingly neglected to exercise: embracing happiness. Honesty alert: I'm scared shitless of being happy.
Let me clarify: I'm a Scorpio. I don't usually throw myself into a singular category of anything, but for the sake of brevity that should give us our starting point. My highs and my lows reach some serious heights and depths. This isn't bipolarity—this is the potential of depth of being an experiential human. Expand that spectrum to a 360° range of possible emotions and we're still only talking in terms of a flat circle here. In no way does my range of emotions limit to that of a circle—I'm at least a goddamn sphere. I revel in nuance. Nuance is infinite possibility, infinite complexity and infinitely beautiful. And you can zip that whole universe back up and contain it under a singular moniker if you so please, and that can be beautiful too. Consider us all ocean creatures. Some of us dive and resurface—others do not know that they can, and others still have fear of the bends.
That was a seriously wicked brain offshoot. Fun fun, this brain!
So I'm sharing an image I took of my human partner, my love, whom I do love very deeply. I'm not going to gloss over the inherent reality of being in a relationship and say we don't have any problems. We have problems—we have had and we do have. And we work hard. And we triumph. And we fail. And we flounder. And we triumph again, and again. And we've spent almost three years together and we are both better for it, scratches and scars aside. I feel it lately between us, a corner to be turned, a new chapter to write. And oh, I'll be writing it. And I'm not going to feel ashamed of being happy.