“You aren’t afraid of love. You’re afraid of all the junk you’ve yoked to love.”
Because I felt that I was being fed love when really I was being fed tracking devices and razor blades. I attached a bewildered, terrified, and damaging essence to a word I didn’t really understand at the time.
Learning, and then knowing, what was love and what was killing me was an important lesson that began taking place when I decided to acknowledge that my anxieties were memories stored underneath my skin.
So what did I yoke to love? The idea that I’m too broken for something so beautiful, that it’s something that only exists in a romantic sense, that it’s something some people get, but not me.
Unyoking these pieces of junk is an ongoing practice.
I will sever the toxicity that attached itself to the deranged sort of love I was offered (and so will you).
I can never be as impressive as you; I adorn my portfolio with places and skills and projects and causes. But I am bare.
I can’t keep up.
I won’t keep up.
I’m not designed to keep up.
I am absurd and awkward and weird and misguided and blunt and unrefined; I practice leading with the wrong.
You reflect to me all the things that I didn’t know to reach for. And this leaves me anxious and strange.
“Experts say men are not adapting”
(Angela Hennesy, “Problem for an entire gender, boys, men, not adapting…”, 8feb2017 http://www.cbc.ca/news/business/men-boys-falling-behind-1.3962316)
In the West we keep misogyny secret to sustain the story that we are progressive, as women’s souls die in private.
If a peahen can’t reproduce with the peacock she wants, she chooses not to reproduce at all. But it’s not just about procreation in the animal kingdom. Sometimes swans fall in love with boats. How is it our place to delegitimize that love? Why? Because it’s not heteronormative? That swan will never have a biological baby with that boat, but if that boat blows away, she will cry for days and years. And she might also choose to never mate again.
What I’m saying is that even birds get broken hearts and have a hard time imagining love with somebody else once they’ve made their choice. Sometimes we choose birds that fly away. Sometimes we choose boats that were never ours to love.
Sometimes we fall for people who inspect buildings for their ability to withstand earthquakes. We keep them at arm’s length so they don’t discover that we can’t withstand even the smallest shake. Because we live on a fault line. We are at increased risk of breaking.
(reflections from Elizabeth Grosz, Becoming Undone: Darwinian Reflections on Life, Art and Politics, 2013).
Reading books in a box to Alexandra <3.
there’s just more shadows.
We need to know our shadows. Invite them for dinner. Go skateboarding with them in Rossland after the mountain closes. Hold hands.
Cause they already got you, so get them back.