"Emotions are screwed. I think they come in real handy from time to time but for the most part, I think I could live without them."
I actually wrote the statement above on October 4, 1986 in my college sketchbook during a class. There I was at 22 years old and already trying to figure out how to construct my own emotional suit of armor to numb to vulnerability. Yesterday morning while shielding myself from the sun under my pirate umbrella, I swallowed hard while blinking back some tears when listening live to Brené Brown, voice observations so obvious but not often spoken out loud. Every other sentence seemed to be tailored right to me and resonated so intensely that I wanted to slow time to catch up to what was being said. Or I wanted to politely remove my head and set it on a platter in order to clear out the emotional release. This morning I know something has profoundly shifted for two reasons: I found the pint of ice cream from last night mistakenly put in the refrigerator and there is a strange serenity that I feel an infinite knowing that I'm on my path.
“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
photo below copyright Betsy Peinado
1 comment:
No Riders
This poem wandered paperless
On a month-long circuit
Around the city
Like those busses
With no riders that
Motored past the restaurant
Where we met for breakfast
I listened to your voice
Watched your hands
Noticed your carefully
Manicured fingers
Were strong
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