#41
on the weight of love
dear you,
i hope the transition to the cold season is treating you kindly. i hope you’ve found moments where you have felt at peace and in love with life amongst everything.
“i begin with love, hoping to end there”
jericho brown, duplex
there’s something so special and beautiful about seeing the imprint of fallen leaves stained into the ground in autumn. how everything is on the cusp of change and renewal. how the light makes everything glow and glimmer.
i’ve felt very present and connected to myself and the world around me for the past few months, especially with the change of the season. i feel like myself in this phase of my life even if that self is subject to change. i feel like i’ve accessed a part of myself that i want to hold onto, and i’m trying to reconcile all these different parts of myself that i’m getting to know as i grow.
i love getting older sometimes. to be on the other side of so many experiences and feelings. i feel so lucky to have a library of hands-on study, memory, and the clarity of hindsight. i’m only just realising how much even the past couple of years have changed me; realising the importance of embracing vulnerability to create meaningful connections, to be myself and do the things i want to do without being paralysed by my fears of judgement and rejection. the more i reflect on growth and vulnerability, i realise it’s just about finding new languages, styles of communication, and ways of sharing yourself with others. i’m trying to pay attention to the love in my life and where i feel it.
maybe that’s why i write about the same things over and over as if i am memorising them. there is preservation at the heart of it — i want to hold onto these feelings, i want to remember them.
i watched frances ha recently. it’s such a lovely depiction of friendship, growth and vulnerability. the late-night reflection of ‘we’re not young anymore’, of having trouble leaving places, of feeling that you’re not a real person yet, of growing up, of changing, of wanting connection, of wanting to be understood, of making mistakes, and coming to terms with it all.
what you bring to art and life shapes what you get from it. i find this often in the practice of re-reading or re-watching, revisiting old favourites or something i didn’t click with upon first viewing. with age, personal change, a fresh mindset or a different mood, things resonate or impact you in new and wonderful ways. this is true of situations and new experiences too.
there is so much rage and resentment inside of me and i don’t know what to do with it sometimes. at the world, myself and this life. i try so hard to hold it, to nurse it, to shape it into something good, to go on despite it, but there is so much that is not within my control and i don’t know how to be. all i have ever wanted is to feel like a person, to not let shame and guilt sculpt me, to do the simplest things, and to be able to breathe. sometimes i feel unlike myself for so long it feels like there isn’t a self to return to.
have i endured my life with grace? have i approached people with the same understanding and acknowledgement i would like to be offered? is love enough?
i wonder why vulnerability is courage in other people but inadequacy in me, why i am drawn to others’ vulnerability and feel so privileged to be trusted with it, but repelled and disgusted by my own. why does it feel so humiliating, ugly and exposing when people see me for who i am or see what i want? why am i so afraid to have needs, aspirations and ambitions? why do i need so much reassurance? why am i so desperate for control?
“i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything, (…) i want to tell you this story without having to be in it:”
richard siken, ‘the torn up road’ from crush
i’m trying to see vulnerability as a strength and to work on it openly. vulnerability is where our humanity lies. our experience in the world is what we put into it.
the world opens when you’re open.
the future is scary to think about but i’m holding hope, friendship and connection in all its forms tightly in my hands these days. i’m trying to appreciate what i have and let things go that have passed.
i’m reminding myself that love is everywhere, in the bright smiles of strangers, in my loved ones telling me to look at the moon, in seeing something that reminds me of someone who isn’t in my life anymore, in existing in the world at the same time as everyone else. love exists in the way i try and get things done so that future me doesn’t have to worry about it, in letting go of the thread of shame in being myself, and in the kindness of the people i surround myself with.
we are all so obviously a part of each other.
“hands are unbearably beautiful. they hold on to things. they let them go”
mary ruefle, the cart
life is all the spaces and pauses between. i wonder how many of these little moments i will remember when this is all said and done. i hope love will be enough.
This was such a delight to read, it has sparkles and moondust all over it, I will read it over and over, and over again, thank you for your words.
This hit so hard