New Mexico is on the verge of another “lockdown” and though I feel like there is a strange sense of freedom – somewhat – in the subversive joy that comes from the seeming act of putting human life before profit, I am preemptively reeling from a sense of foreboding darkness and loneliness that feels – and is – just on the horizon.
I am not a stranger to loneliness, or darkness, or fear. At times, these sensations have swallowed me whole, have felt so deeply to be part of my human experience as to be what I have defined myself as. Seeing and sensing myself as an outcast and a loner – misunderstood and marginalized, even from my own family, even when I desperately wanted to be accepted – has been a sordid aspect of my lifetime on this planet. I have sometimes been rebellious – but I also know, on another level, that I have a greater awareness level than many I have been around. An awareness that shook and shattered their sense of egoic comfort, from a young age.
Sometimes I feel like I can act as a mirror for those around me – reflecting back the beauty and the darkness of another. I know my presence can be triggering for some. Perhaps that sounds arrogant, but I think its much closer to the truth than me just being unlovable. Perhaps it’s a story I tell myself in order to just soften the blow of the idea that I might just be “weird”.
But I have always seen and sensed things more deeply than most. I have always perceived more beauty, and darkness, than most. Its a gift, but it makes certain situations challenging. Its led to much painful rejection in my life. It’s much easier to dull the senses and fit in. It’s much easier to drink, or fuck, or drug, or work your senses into oblivion. Except that has never really worked for me.
In truth, and in irony nonetheless, I feel more whole, more accepted now – this year, than I ever have. Perhaps its dropping some of the drama around being misunderstood – and perhaps, its sharing some of the fruits of my gifts – my perceptions, my awarenesses, my deep expressions of my feelings, my vulnerabilities – allowing those previously forsaken parts of myself to come forward and bask in the glow of awareness – and sometimes even – love and admiration.
Being able to open up like this, to realize that these aspects of myself, henceforth rejected and marginalized, are actually beautiful gifts I have to share, has been so healing, so deeply resplendent – a gift I am so grateful for.
And yet.
I fear that this lockdown will shatter this wholeness I have felt and I will have to pick the bloody shards off of the bathroom floor and place them back together in some kind of miserable fucking moasic.
But it’s not, and it won’t.
I know I am far, far from the only being who has ever felt this, and I know I am far from the only one who has the potential to heal. Lets see one another, let’s hear one another, let’s hold space for the magic of each other’s gifts and wisdom, because it is vast, and it is infinite, and it is beautiful. It is one of the world’s greatest tragedies that allows us to see our gifts as shame. And, it doesn’t have to be. Not if we don’t let it.