Sometimes, one needs to walk outside of comfort zone, whether it be scooping out the wounds from a body to give voice on a stage or sitting across from another beneath a late night New York City sky. Life is meant to be understood, but these understandings take time. I translate one part of my body and then it changes its mind and suddenly I have to start all over. This is ok because this body isn’t on loan; I don’t need to return it by a certain date. We have some time to get to know each other and change directions.
I told someone once, I walk outside my comfort zone each time I wake up.
So, here I am. Up. Awake. Aware that just the other day, I allowed myself to feel music coat me in a way that was always private. Took my ukelele on a trip into the city. We rode two subways together. Got bumped a few times. Walked beneath the slowly setting sun. Listened to poems and then shared a stage together.
photograph by Zita Zenda
After I plucked my uke, she remained on my lap, offering me comfort with her wooden curves. And then we went to a comedy show. And then we shared a meal with a beautiful woman who we wrote a poem with. Then we listened to the roar of Patti Smith. There is music to living. To remaining. I guess sometimes you just have to introduce more sound to it all.
None of this is comfortable.
Twenty-four years of therapy and several thousand disrobes and how many books and
judgements conclusions. Processes and approaches and angles of near-sighted reflections. A few couches but mostly upright. Some in-patient and group work and locked doors and removed laces. The lovers who tried to dissect me– the ones who could barely see in me.
Walk into a different circle. Notice how this makes you feel what do you feel.
Are you ready for the tingle? And can you handle the sting of prescriptions– not from pills or powders– but sight.
You will only notice something is changing when you make that when you make a change.
You may find seventeen lifetimes hidden in your one.
You may excrete several pounds of wishes that got lost in the mail or shopping mall fountains. Still wish.
You may drop out of weekends because your tears wash you away and you have no ores to paddle you through this.
You may need to sew a thread to someone else so they don’t move too far from you so they remain
because no one ever remains. You may just need to ask them to stay.
Feel around. There is curvature in this magic. There is a twist at the top and bottom and sides like the way a smile arches. Smiles are like magic. And smiles can be uncomfortable too.