#Hanami 89 | Waiting On The Shore
Unwanted visits
The human body is astonishing. The other day, I had urges to cry from the moment I woke up until I went to bed. I, who had been boasting about being well for quite some time —"Well, I've been feeling really good for weeks, to be honest," that's what I'd answer to anyone who bothered to ask— had fallen back into old patterns. By the way, it's surprising how few people ask "how are you?" with genuine interest and not as a standard greeting.
The good thing about time, and especially practice, is that you know things are rarely linear and that everything that goes up must come down, like any self-respecting tide. And so, with the little sack of faith you have left, you repeat to yourself that you just have to wait. And you cling to that like a happy koala when you're sad. Or when you have doubts. Or when you think everyone dislikes you.
On those days of unexpected vulnerability, of unsolicited emotional striptease, you find yourself naked before any reflection: the TV, the bathroom mirror with limescale stains, the window with traces of the last storm, any memory, the treacherous screen of your phone. You find yourself not only naked1, but vulnerable and with all your wounds at the mercy of the highest bidder, of the most expert hitman who, with few exceptions, tends to be yourself.
"I may never be happy, but tonight I am content."
—Sylvia Plath
That distilled wisdom that has saved some of us several times from running around like headless chickens breaking even more what you want to fix, serves—among other things—to make you realize that what you feel today, what I felt the other day, is just an unexpected and uninvited visit to your home. And the good thing about these visits, these emotional "in-laws", is that you know for certain that at some point they'll leave (if you don't kick them out first).
See you on any shore.
Have a good Sunday ♥️.
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When I speak of nudity, I almost never refer to the body; at least, not just to it.