What can I say? Do you know how many times a week I sit down to write only to admit to myself that I might not have anything worthwhile to say. I’m one person, with one experience and only one perspective.
I think it’s a good thing to know about yourself – to question if the words created in your mind, spilling out of your mouth into sentences, matter. It’s a lot better than going around thinking everyone wants to hear what you have to say and stopping at nothing to share your unconscious view of the world with whoever sits still long enough to be a victim to the sound of your voice.
I feel stuck.
On the cusp of yet another reinvention of myself. I have been really happy just cruising around the deep South here in Cape Town and easing into my real simple lifestyle. I’ve had no desire to add or take away anything. Content with things as they are. Recently (these come along ever so often, when things are real good, smooth and peachy) I have a moment of panic and I feel the deep desire to be seen, heard, understood and known. It’s a rather inconvenient desire to be honest and I resist fiercely most of the time. In the past it has only left me feeling jaded and the results have been dismal.
I’m great at jewellery making. I am good at surfing. I can create something from nothing, woah, gasp, no way! I can run, explore, scale mountains. I have taken myself on adventures to some of the most remote areas of our country. I can write. I can draw. I can rock climb and mountain bike. I have even saved a guy twice my size from drowning out at sea once. But when it comes to letting people in, I just can’t do it. And I go back to living my simple life and being very happy, content and deeply grateful for the daily peace and zero emotional confusion I have in my life because of not having a witness to it.
But sometimes in the quiet moments, when my hands fail to make things and my mind does not want to keep busy I wonder what it must feel like to have a cup of tea made for you, exactly how you like it. For someone to squeeze your hand to reassure you everything is ok when they notice your sensory overwhelm in a public space. For the laughing lines around your eyes to be adored when you share a funny story. I wonder what it must be like to have someone in your life that desires nothing more than wanting to observe and give you space to be, purely from a desire to understand you better, because loving you in a way that makes you flourish matters to them. I wonder what it must feel like to have someone to help you take the ants, scorpions and wasps out of your house so sweetly. It must be wonderful to sit with someone who wants to hear what you have to say, sits with you when you’re sad and who’s heart breaks when they hear why yours is broken still. I wonder what it feels like to have someone to weather the storm with and understands how much the sunshine actually drains me and how much I need the rain. I wonder a lot of things in these quiet moments and all this time alone.
And once I’ve wandered through all the wonders of the world within the deep knowing that I have curated a life of safety and peace makes up for all the times of uncertainty and disappointment. The panic subsides and I go back to adding yet another sport, book or creative skill to my life. Old habits die hard.
Maybe next time I will choose love instead of pulling the drawbridge up and sending the dragons out to burn things to the ground outside of my castle walls. Besides, my hair isn’t long enough yet to throw out the window for the prince to climb up. Until then you can find me surf skiing at Fishhoek beach.
Love is an illusion, it actually lives within.
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