How do we truly connect in a world full of short-term moments?
Where do we begin to truly recognize who people are and stop making judgments based on physiognomy?
I don’t have the answers to either this week. The weekend felt heavy and I find myself going deeper down the introspection rabbit hole than I have in a while.
This isn’t fun for me.
It shatters me into a million puzzle pieces that I have to painstakingly try to fit together again or make space for the new.
Inhale the chaos and exhale the bullshit. I mean that in the best way.
I think death brings those parts out of us. As Joan Didion said, “Life changes in an instant. The ordinary instant.”
So, how do I choose to sift through the chaos and process my own grief while still trying to maintain a life that feels like it’s accelerating at warp speed?
I isolate. And I laugh. A lot.
This morning I happened to wake up at 3 a.m. I turned on the bathroom light, looked at myself in the mirror and said out loud, “I am not okay!”
I laughed for a long time after that moment.
I’m sitting on my balcony writing this as the sun goes down and shows me her last moments of cotton candy – colored brilliance. Sunsets I can count on to bring me back to what I do know:
In a world full of 8 billion people, I know myself the best and I am the most important person I can connect with.
Forget about trying to connect with the Twitterverse full of people ego-surfing or the old friends on Facebook who haven’t changed since high school and I think that’s beautiful. I truly do.
The human experience is messy. I think we tend to forget it’s supposed to be. Nothing is really linear or set in stone and I’ll repeat it again and again – we control almost nothing.
My fountain of inconvenient feelings is overflowing and I am going to choose to dive right in and honor the chaos I am experiencing.
Here’s to chaos. To no longer watering dead plants and putting the pieces back together where they fit – no matter how fragile.
*Featured photo taken by me in 2018*