I spend my days wandering around in my new skin. The surface looks calm, skin held taut by muscles tight with uncertainty. A body—well dressed, hair in place, sunglasses masking windows that too few have either wanted or been able to peer into. So I wander, driving aimlessly, walking through stores, through people, dodging their thoughts and energies. This is my life; my new life, my new skin. Who am I becoming? What will I do? I think about my remodel. My house as it is being transformed, a material reminder of my new life, my new-found power. The slips I make, the struggles I face with the remodel, mimic perfectly the slips and struggles I make within my new life.
And so I wander…no longer invisible, no longer wanting to be invisible or even OK with being invisible. Needing to be in control, wanting to share my power and my gifts but unsure how or with whom. I want the best, to be surrounded by the best, because I give my best. And so I drive, in town, out of town. Soaking up life through the pores of my new skin. I don’t become saturated, I won’t allow that, but I become damp, dewy, sometimes wet. And I want to sleep. In slumber my old skin sloughs off, gently and slowly. Too much abrasion and the new skin dies before it gets a chance to form a web of flesh that is strong enough to contain this new person living and breathing within its confines.
And so I wandered dreamlike through it all: an ephemeral reality that was shape shifting as my own internal world hooked onto an ancient flicker promising a different reality, a different life, the eternal path of consciousness.
And so I wandered, like so many before me—women, men, children—all on their own journey of discovery. Some find a way, many lose their way. It feels almost too much to bear. We are all alone on our journey, but if we are fortunate we find a friend, a partner, a lover, a group, a few, a couple, someone to clasp hands with and lock eyes with along the way. Those of us who aren’t so lucky, or who are only lucky in bits and pieces must find light, and hold our own candle to illuminate our path. There is no one there to hold the candle while we tie our shoe or slip on our coat. Both our hands are full, as are our minds and souls. We keep to ourselves looking into the eyes of others in the hope that we will see something familiar, something that pulls us to one another, flocking together for safety and security. And so we wander…
Artwork by April Rhodes
And so I wander…no longer invisible, no longer wanting to be invisible or even OK with being invisible. Needing to be in control, wanting to share my power and my gifts but unsure how or with whom. I want the best, to be surrounded by the best, because I give my best. And so I drive, in town, out of town. Soaking up life through the pores of my new skin. I don’t become saturated, I won’t allow that, but I become damp, dewy, sometimes wet. And I want to sleep. In slumber my old skin sloughs off, gently and slowly. Too much abrasion and the new skin dies before it gets a chance to form a web of flesh that is strong enough to contain this new person living and breathing within its confines.
And so I wandered dreamlike through it all: an ephemeral reality that was shape shifting as my own internal world hooked onto an ancient flicker promising a different reality, a different life, the eternal path of consciousness.
And so I wandered, like so many before me—women, men, children—all on their own journey of discovery. Some find a way, many lose their way. It feels almost too much to bear. We are all alone on our journey, but if we are fortunate we find a friend, a partner, a lover, a group, a few, a couple, someone to clasp hands with and lock eyes with along the way. Those of us who aren’t so lucky, or who are only lucky in bits and pieces must find light, and hold our own candle to illuminate our path. There is no one there to hold the candle while we tie our shoe or slip on our coat. Both our hands are full, as are our minds and souls. We keep to ourselves looking into the eyes of others in the hope that we will see something familiar, something that pulls us to one another, flocking together for safety and security. And so we wander…
Artwork by April Rhodes
