hayal
insecure is an adjective.
unfixed. unstable. uprooted. easily broken. fragile. Vulnerable. loose. wobbly. anxious.
it is likened to weakness. malleable as cookie dough, one assumes the form given to them.
is it possible to be insecure and overly confident, existing at the edges of where the main pillar resides? the main pole is integral, whole, full, entire.
I have been called insecure, though I feel rooted in what I know and feel. I take on the form of those around me not to fit in but to make others feel safe.
when people feel safe, they act from a different source.
love, not fear.
when people feel safe, they speak kindly. they are more open, honest, and forgiving.
I mirror others not to blend and disappear but to mirror what the other person feels comfortable with so they can soften into the conversation and experience.
what is behind the object?
you cannot get to the subject if there is hardness around it.
dress is tribal. makeup is tribal. stance is tribal. vocabulary is tribal. indicators show we belong to some person, place, event, or community.
contrariness is a form of belonging; it is the antithesis. to go against and rebel is another means of forging community through opposition.
at the heart of it all, are we simply seeking security?
nothing is fixed, yet all I seek is a firm edge to grip with my fingers and toes.
today, I walked to the beach after my yoga class, and the filth on the earth made my insides cringe. cigarette butts, bottle caps, sandwich crusts, condoms, rubber bands, gum, popsicle sticks, tin foil, and KitKat wrappers.
the sand was littered with ashes and plastic. campfire ruins and bottles of urine or beer. likely the former. the kids running with water shoes were streaked with white and slid from their parent's clasp. water shoes slapping the uneven stone pathways. a toddler with a green lollipop threw the plastic wrapper into the ocean. who taught you that? I wanted to shout.
I left that spot and walked until I reached the path where the concrete dips and the water sloshes with seaweed, and I could see the barnacles gripping the rocks. I layed my purple towel down on the concrete and walked on those hot stones, and dove into the sea.
it was filthy, and I did not enjoy it.
I struggled to return to the dock and used all my strength to lean into the ledge. Every muscle tensed. my body yearning upright. my hands and feet pressing and pulling. twice, I nearly fell backward. I tore at the rock with my nails until I felt one split. the dock swayed with the wind, and I clung tight as crustaceans to the stones.
I reached the top, stuck my finger in my mouth, and tasted blood. something died between my teeth, and I spat out the liquid.
there is nothing for me to hold on to, and this is the only idea that sends shivers straight into the womb.
whatever exists right now did not before, and how much of the past do we hold on to? how much of what came before prevents us from being who we are? how much of it protects us from worse terrors than we already know? how much of it helps us bear witness to the beauty of each day?
am I a better person for remembering my mistakes? only if I learn from them.
what have I learned this month?
Today's yoga class featured a handstand press, and my partner dropped me. it was not her fault. I did not stay connected to the ground. in this pose, it is essential to keep pressing the palms firmly into the ground. the back rounds and the navel draws inward and upward. mula bandha. I don't know if the instructor cued any of this - the classes are in Turkish.
I pressed down and drew in and up as I raised my legs. once it was the position of my partner's hands on my hips, I drew my heels wide and kept my legs straight. I slowly lowered my heels toward my wrists as the demonstration endeared. as I lowered my legs, I felt my body lose contact with the earth. my palms lifted; I stopped focusing on my hands with the effort and concentration of my lower half. as my hands came up from the floor, my torso folded, and I fell on my head.
I was annoyed though uninjured. the girl who held me was not adept at adjustments. she was not focused on the activity; she was focused solely on the instruction, and because I veered from the demonstration, she did not know what to do. that is the problem with following directions and not critically thinking for oneself.
I have wondered many times how well I know to use my brain.
it is not an effortful thought as much as it is a feeling that rises and releases itself as swiftly as it came. I'll be doing something, like folding laundry or watching the cars as I wait to cross the street, and the question will appear: who is thinking these thoughts?
the me-ness of me is simply what I have cultivated, and what is the creation based on? where do I get my ideas?
I have wondered about my own security or lack thereof. I don't have doubts about who I am or what I want. I don't hold fear for the future, even when being flung from a dock due to wind and waves. I do the same acts abroad that I performed back home.
here I am, in the heart of Istanbul, writing in my home with a glass of chilled wine and a bowl of pasta, asking questions. I am constantly curious. I lean forward when speaking to people out of an innate desire to be closer to the person across from me - to be closer to the thing I do not understand!
I do not fully comprehend the contents of my mind because all the stuff in here is not from my origin - it is from the outside. I stuck my thumb out to travel to get a taste of the world cultures, religions, and politics so distinct from my own.
I want to move to Turkey. I could make a home here. I enjoy the bigness of it. I like the thrust. I am motivated by cities; the landscape is lush and green as Vancouver, though the sun is hotter.
observing myself in the yoga class today, I could feel how I shapeshift to assume a position that makes others more comfortable in themselves based on what I show.
is this wrong? I don't know how to act until someone else makes the first move. is this insecure? I know what I desire; the propulsion forward is so strong within me, there is no question. I hold so many curiosities, but what I want is not one of them!
I do not think my ability to mutate and transform is an insecurity. I feel that it is what has helped me adapt and evolve. It keeps me leaning in no matter who sits across from me. I am malleable as chocolate chip cookie dough and just as tasty. because the recipe is consistent. the cookies always taste the same though the cutout is unique.
I don't care what the exterior shape is - it could be a star, a circle, a handprint, or a triangle. what makes a chocolate chip cookie? the ingredients, of course. it is still a cookie even if it doesn't take the shape you are familiar with.
Though my essence is eternal, I have taken on many different shapes while on the road.
I still love what I love, and I've loved like this since I was a kid.
reading, writing, dancing, being out in the world a little hidden from view. I am wearing a pink romper with my crystal ring, and my hair is full of salt. my feet are free of sand, and I've rubbed avocado lotion on my legs and arms.
My drink has one ice cube, and I might have salmon for dinner.
this is my life right now. pink and sunkissed and a bit slippery. a bit on edge. a bit insecure.
Photo source.
