1,2,3,4..5. Here I go.
Sustainability. The ability to endure, the ability to continue an original state of being, the ability to retain a memory in its’ present and possibly most perfect form.
When I think of sustainability, I think of an infinite white line, steadily reaching across the horizon and energetically breaking any obstacles. I think of possibilities and beauty and reinvention.
But we forget that trauma, injury, pain, and grief are all sustainable entities as well. We keep them stored in our bodies, on some cellular level even. I truly believe that a physical memory of all we have experienced still exists in some part of us; it lingers and manifests itself in many unexpected ways.
I wish my body was more efficient in storing conversations and bits of insight I’ve gleamed from all around. I wish it could tuck wisdom away more successfully away too. Despite me slowly weaning myself off meaningless exchanges of words and replacing them with the juicy stuff, I still crave for a long-lasting effect in every single one of my conversations.
I’m still searching for enveloping hugs that linger far past the memory of touch, scents that I could relieve and relieve again, and the still, still silence after an eureka moment.
Photo by milena mihaylova
Walking along Walnut Street alone tonight reminded me of how damning the combination of Loneliness and Desire could be. Jeopardy wins, I decide to walk on Pearl instead where there are people and bright objects and colorful posters to distract me.
I stop by a friend’s place and say hi, the exhaustion in his eyes meet mine and I’m stunned, speechlessly so by how startlingly heavy they are. As if a scratched up heart initiated them.
How have I not noticed this? He blinks before I can analyze them. I betray myself and prod, but he will not offer an explanation, we don’t know each other that well. But in that instant, I absorbed some of his grief and weary exhaustion.
I’m unable to dilute it now and it haunts me to think that I could have played a part in reducing this collateral damage.
W, one of my newest mentees/beloved kids was filling out his Americorps form and I noticed the tattoos on both of his inner wrists; one had a letter D and the other, M in a beautiful Old English Script font.
“It stands for Determination and Motivation”. He high fived me knowingly as he left. Oh, that boy is such a heart breaker but his tattoos completely shattered my previous perceptions of him. He also signed up for 900 hours of volunteer/community service. *melts*
Through these 2 conflicting experiences today, I’m starting to see how I’ve allowed myself to live in the world of temporary for too long. It’s absolutely silly but I expect more of me. I expect more of this.
I’ve been covering up the scratches on my skin for too long. A huge crack runs through my heart; allowing me to flirt lightly with every being that walks by but putting them at a solid distance. Is this sustainable?
If I count to five and open my eyes, will you still be there? If I hold on to you tightly, will you still be there in the morning? If I promise to brand you permanently on my skin, will you be my moral compass, my guiding flashlight in the woods of the wild?
