Dignity and discomfort: Stop the apologies, stop the applause

A thread of moments.

We stopped dancing. And then we stopped moving altogether.

They said every day was just a series of breaths, from the moment they awakened, got on the train, arrived at work, picked up their daughter from school, and went to bed. A series of breaths like little objects, each one containing the same intense focus to inhale, exhale with the same amount of space in between. Each breath, they said, is held together with a strand comprised of a deep pain strung through. They mimed this strand of evenly-spaced breaths in front of me as they spoke. I could see it, there in front of me, with such eloquent detail. There was something hauntingly beautiful about it. We looked at it together for a moment and shared the unfortunate reality that it was in fact there, and we both could see it.

I started thinking about forgiveness and what forgiveness looks like. I thought about whether I had ever seen what forgiveness looks like, and if I’d even be able to recognize it. What shape does it take? A pooling up in the eyes; a handshake brought into a long embrace; a system of universal healthcare. Abolition, not reform.

Forgiveness is not merely a word. It is an experience of healing and humility. A retraction and letting go, but not forgetting. It is a strict moment of accountability and longevity. But I have difficulty seeing this. Maybe, it is a history we haven’t made yet.

We try to use language and words to convey a sentiment, our emotions to formulate opinions. We believe in language as an accurate tool in translating what our bodies experience. But the words aren’t perfect and they never will be. But we haven’t yet learned another way to make this translation a more accurate way of rendering our presumed realities. But we keep trying, and we keep believing in these words.

A lot has happened lately. There have been a lot of jokes, sadness, regret, helplessness, camaraderie, affection, anger. I have felt so proud at times, and at others, so overwhelmed with disappointment. The disappointment, as heavy as it is, is a reality check and a necessary slap in the face when you least expect it. It’s about where you decide to place your expectation, and when you decide to place that expectation somewhere else. And yes, one can become weary of this constant rearrangement, both internally and externally.

We are just here, present in our being. It’s all we have. I believe in meaning and creating meaning. I think that’s where our ethics lie, in this creation of meaning.

This arragenement and rearrangement of bodies.

There is such a fascination with movement of bodies;
The restraining of bodies;
The punishing of bodies;
The silencing of bodies;
A fascination with the moving of earth and bodies.
But not nearly so much as the moving of ourselves.

I had this list running through my head.

It looks like a dictionary, just filled with words and definitions for anything.

Frequency
Vacancy
Normalized
Bitterness
Access
Repress
Witness
Dignity
Vulnerability
Immobilization
Consequence
Sequence
Pretense
With or without
Pretense
Pretense
Pretense
To begin sustaining a conversation about how one can participate
Desire, shame
Shame, desire
Optimism
Words that mean something
Words that mean nothing
One has to desire meaning, one has to establish context and hold conviction in creating meaning
Pain
No Pain
Pain
No Pain
A series of breaths
A series of images
Recognition
Acknowledgment
With or without
Pretense.

This list is actually a list of people’s names.
A series of people smiling and then disappearing.
When words mean something and then nothing.
When the list begins it feels like it will never end.
And when it feels like it will be close to ending, it’s not close at all.
The list won’t ever end.
How often do they think about the possession of one’s emotions, love, energy–of another’s body, when they shift and adjust among their ranks?

The sounds of our differences–thousands of years apart.

I and we just wanted to be us.