The Sum of My Parts

I’m thinking a lot about change, about the seasons, about the meaning of family. Kelsi told me how the autumn is making her nostalgic. It made me miss the seasons, and hope there are some falling leaves in London. Writing an old friend also made me ponder internal change. How do I account for the last two years? I found myself reiterating all that I had done, but what sum do all these parts lead to? I can’t put my finger on the real change, although I know I feel stronger, more thoughtful, more compassionate. When so many of the key players remain the same, though the cast has grown, I fear many of the same dilemmas fill my neutral head-space.

I feel oddly adrift, and so distant from all that “I did” that I need to realize who I am without these activities. Or what they have made me. I am so proud and happy watching S.A.R.A. take flight- thinking of all these allies forming community and just being Present on campus. I feel much of who I am is located in the people I love, but when these people are scattered literally around the globe as they are, I am left with a vague sense of longing, but no location, home, or life on which to pin my missing. I am so proud of my friends for all they are doing. And so this has become a very different kind of travel, in which I feel even more present than ever, as I have no “life’ to go home to. This is it. And when I “go back” I will have to recreate a life there as well. Wherever ‘there’ is.

It seems appropriate to me that we “make” or “forge” homes, as it really is an exhaustive and highly creative experience. Like art, the preconception plays a role but is often unrecognizable in the final product. And also like art, the final product is rarely Finished. Rather, its’ meaning is constantly evolving, and there is always more you can add to it. Makes me think of the constraints of photography and ceramics, as there is always that final moment when you put it in the kiln or slip it into the fixer, and call it good. How this imposed “end” challenges you to hone the piece. And also how in life there is only one final reckoning, and by then its too late for revisions. I wonder if that’s why we make much of anniversaries, birthdays, celebrations of time, to give ourselves an ‘end’ from which to reconceive the project, or rework the themes. Maybe this is why I am so adamant about this kind of celebrations. The validation of myself and others and the perspective, if from a fabricated realm, can be startling.

I bought a cheap bracelet and had the artist engrave on it: “live with intention.” Now I’m reminded hourly. I think maybe this philosophy is the only way to be conscious that every decision we make is a stroke of paint, an etching in clay, another few seconds of exposure that in some way changes the art piece; and though not guaranteed to improve it overall, the intentional choices make our life authentic.