Writings

three things (changed and changing)

change. the threshold crossed. passageways. the movement, from one thing into the next.

wandering in the dark, letting go, layer after layer, gate after gate, turning into something you don’t even recognize, except when you look in the mirror, you feel like maybe it is the first time you have truly seen yourself. 

(photograph by Stacy de la Rosa)

(photograph by Stacy de la Rosa)

this has been my life for a while now.
to find the way, with no map or chart. to swim to the other side.
to change and be changed.

to come through, altered.
to reveal, to be re-arranged.

so i keep wanting to hear, about stories of changing. i keep asking people, both those i am close to and complete strangers, if they will tell me about what it is like for them, when something changes, that then changes them, and there is no going back then.
 

No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section . . .there are no maps of the change. You just... come out the other side. Or you don’t.
— Stephen King

ways i have changed and am changing

  1.  i care less what people think about me, about what i am doing or not doing, saying or not saying. my life and my choices do not require consensus from the majority. i no longer apologize, when someone else bumps into me. something has made me rougher around the edges, but in this, it has also made me more open, stilled into deep underground listening, willing to speak out loud. i don’t know what i’m doing. and i’m learning as i go, into the uncharted, paths made by walking. what has changed, is that this no longer disturbs me. it no longer diminishes me, or life. instead, it feels like the very way i offer my devotion to this life.  
     
  2. i'm more reckless, unbound, with my love. and more honest with my heart. and more clear with my borders, those lines that defines regions and doorways and directions: enter, exit, this way, detour, no crossing. 
     
  3. my survival instinct has saved me before. so many times. it is why i am here. i owe her everything. she is mine, ruthless, and true, and there whenever i need her. but this is the thing. she has come back, teeth bared, willing to scratch out the eyes of that which stands in my way, to hunt and do anything required for my safe crossing over. but this time, the tiger of survival refuses to kill the heat of heart, the ache of being human, the feelings of fear and pleasure, the soft skin of being in a body. it doesn’t matter if this is what it took to survive before. she won’t do it this time. i have changed. i have spent my whole life trusting her. and now she trusts me. so the protector is here, not to silence these things in me for fear they will destroy me, but to guard the edges of the forest, so whatever i need to do, i am safe to do so. and then yes, i will, i am, coming out the other side.