Saturday, February 1, 2014
I would like to write again. About haunting mistakes and about my children, who say beautiful things.
I would like to write of wild gratitudes that make me both good and unbearable. I would like you to know that I'm doing my best not to judge you. I would like to write again, to remind myself of all the calm, the turmoil, and all the pain that I can't feel because it isn't mine. I would like to write in hopes that you aren't judging me. I would like to wrestle and then write of with how unfair everything is and, that out of that unfairness, you can still make a pretty good life.
I want to write again as a way to apologize for what I've said before. For all of the missteps and mistakes. And for all the protecting that looked and walked like pain and learning. That won't change much I suspect- I will write embarrassing things.
I want to reconcile with art. I want to try something, even if it's nothing. I want to remember, every day, that art matters. Art is what we are trying to get at. Maybe that is why all of these wars and inequalities make me feel so lost, spoiled and ashamed. Maybe that's also why I feel proud because it isn't fair that I want to write this and others don't.
I would like to write again, about swellings that are untreatable. About the pressure surrounding trusty limbs, about the process of learning to stand again, and about the process of unlearning. To write about rage, to write about things we don't talk about as much as we should.
I want to write about God and not about god. To write about golden calves. And I want so much to write about how saying "no" is one way of saying "yes" and how saying, "I'm right" means "I don't know" and how learning to say "I don't know" means "I'm okay". To record how hard it can be to be yourself when you've wanted so much to be someone else or something else. And I want to write about how healing that seeping wound can just make everything good.