Crossings

A year ago I had this image printed to show at the Los Angeles Festival of Photography...along with six others. All decent images. But absolutely not the images I’d have chosen had I been more assertive about it. Instead of embracing the fact that I’d been invited to exhibit, I held my breath...waiting for someone to call me out. Waiting to be exposed as a complete hack who didn’t belong.

And so, when I was asked to submit works for consideration, I instead sent a link to a very broad gallery. And when they selected pieces I didn’t consider to be indicative of my best work, I acquiesced.

I understood the selections. In a group exhibition of mobile artists, mine was the only nature themed work. It was for balance. It was to show the world what can be done with an iPhone. Broadly. And my chosen photos fit nicely into the picture.

But I did not. I got lost. Small. Insignificant. Immature. Virtually invisible.

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I am not small. I have a big personality, a larger than life presence. But I often surround it with walls of dark matter. I learned to do this as a child. I learned to do this to survive. I hid deep inside myself, inside my room, inside anger and pain and even rage...and only in that space was I free to truly BE. The me who went through the motions - navigating the mine field of a hopelessly wounded family battlefield - that person was a carefully crafted disguise, designed to protect the real me. I was saving myself for later. For when it was safe. For when it was time.

And so, when I was disappointed with the work I’d be showing at the festival, I locked myself inside myself...along with the work I should have fought for...saving it for later.

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When I was 18, one of my dearest childhood friends shut me out. Without warning. Without explanation. I’d grown up as much a part of her family as I had been of my own. Possibly more. And with her, I could be ME. I could shine. I was bold and big. I filled the room and left the dark matter behind. But suddenly that all melted away and a part of me seemed to go with it...lost forever.

There was a wound that emerged from this. And it swallowed me whole. Without her, I felt suffocated. Without her, I was too exposed, too vulnerable. And so I slipped tightly back into the dark matter, locked the door, and lost the key.

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Time reveals things. Softens edges. Erodes the hardness our hearts often mistake for practical armour. And as our physical sight dissipates, our metaphysical sight can sharpen.

My friend reconnected with me online about a decade ago. She never apologized. We never even spoke of the gaping hole between us. She has gone out of her way to praise and nurture me, to own our precious bond, to tell the world that I was her very first BFF. But the dark matter still remains, protecting me, constricting me. Keeping her from penetrating my invisible forcefield of niceties and regret.

We’ve chatted wistfully about a visit, about getting together again. And in the back of my mind, I always expected such a meeting would be the time and the place to shatter the armour and dig up the dirty little elephant from our past...in hopes that we can truly burry it at last.

This is an overarching theme for me. Clenching too tightly to things that don’t serve me. Holding on to the past. Holding on to objects that have no place anymore in my life. And clinging to an identity I only created to save me...for later. Loosing myself and my time and my life in the process.

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In about an hour I’ll be getting into my car and driving east. I will be going to a charming little tea room on the SoCal coast. A place I absolutely love. A place I’ve not visited in several years. In my bag I will carry this image, called “Crossings”. Professionally printed on wood. Gallery ready. Protected by a plastic sheath layered in a year’s worth of dust.

When I walk into the tea room, I will shed the plastic from this work of art. And as I lovingly hand it to my dear old friend as an offering of forgiveness and grace, I will also step out of this stifling sheath of dark matter.

No rehashing required.

A gift to her. But more importantly...I’ll finally let go of later. I will once again allow myself to be ME.