"Security is mostly superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. To turn our face toward change and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate is strength undefeatable." -Helen Keller
This quote has spoken to me again and again since I first laid eyes on it, and I've shared it again and again. It is my bookmark for my most recent read, and has traveled to Chicago, to Paris, and will be with me tomorrow when I go to Detroit. It's like I have separation anxiety from this quote, which I regard as complete and utter truth. I haven't read it in a while though, or her personal message to me, and I should have last night. Recently, I've been more apt to journal (obviously, I restarted this blog, didn't I) and have been writing to quiet the mind. Last night I got home from my midterm...the best I can say about it is, it's over...and was restless. Suffering from an unquiet mind. I broke out the journal. About ten minutes into writing, I felt the tearful door open and I walked right through it. It became clear to me that I've been lugging around a lot of unsaid fears. Fears about myself, about this continued separation (now 2 months into it), fears about the physical safety of a person I care deeply about. Having no exam to imminently study for, I walked through that door and embraced the opportunity to just be sad. I wasn't quite prepared for the natural disaster that followed! You know that Diane Keaton montage scene in Something's Gotta Give where she's crying/writing her play? It was cute, it was funny. This was neither cute nor funny and the decibel level of sobbing caused a cat to flee the room. There was no stopping the monsoon, and even when I tried (counting didn't work. Counting in Spanish didn't work), I eventually had to accept the fact that it was ok to be explosively sad. My zeal to put the kibosh on the raw emotion was actually an accelerant. When the monsoon subsided I walked into my bathroom to survey the damage in the mirror. Swollen eyes, red nose, hair looked like shit, and I was still clutching a pillow-its like it had fused to my body. And I was ok. Albeit tired, I felt like alright, I dealt with it. The crying WAS the dealing with it. No longer suffering from an unquiet mind- mine was exhausted- I turned on Conan and let him entertain me til I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Strangely, this was one of the first times I didn't feel like a total weirdo for crying. You'd think I'd be more desensitized to it by now--I was a SUPER sensitive kid. I was telling Will the other day that road kill would make me want to cry, as a child. As I grew a little older and developed social comparison capabilities I learned that that was not a socially cool reaction to roadkill. So I started saying prayers for dead animals I would see in the road. As I grew up, crying publicly felt like a natural disaster in and of itself and was something to avoid at all costs. Well, since February, I've probably cried more times in public than I have in the previous 10 years. I attribute this to having opened my heart to the possibility of new love...to the fact that I am just genetically predetermind to feel things deeply....and maybe I just don't care as much anymore. Granted, last night's waterworks were in the privacy of my own home. Only Pronto looked appalled. But the fact that it felt ok and a reasonable reaction to this season of life's events was a big victory for me. I wish I had remembered to read Ms. Keller's words, a sentiment I believe in whole heartedly. My own outright exposure served me the best because you'll never really be able to avoid how you feel.
