I’m sweaty palms scared to really start this project.
1. I’m afraid I’ll be swallowed up by the sad feelings I’m letting myself feel.
2. It’s incredibly terrifying putting my innermost thoughts out where everyone can see them.
But after talking with Wil today, I realized that’s exactly what this is about. That I need to embrace the fear, and let it fuel me instead of cripple me.
See, this culture we’re a part of likes to make things invisible. Poof, abracadabra, you’re disappeared. Keep anything real, and visceral, and too beautiful, or too ugly, outta sight.
According to our culture, scary feelings should be invisible. So should innermost thoughts (especially when they’re about rebellion). Poor people should be invisible, and so should homeless people. Women, and people with beautiful brown skin should be invisible.
Wild animals should be invisible. Bloody, wild, birth should be invisible. Death should most definitely be invisible (real death that is, death in video games, or on TV and movies is fine.) Grief should DEFINITELY be invisible.
Our culture tells us that real breasts with milk in them should be invisible, especially if babies are sucking on them. But fake boobs are fine. People who love someone of the same gender should be invisible, and people who don’t fit into a gender stereotype should FOR SURE be invisible. Victims of violence should also be invisible.
And we could go on, and on.
I, for one, am sick to death of being invisible. And, I’m sick to death of anything that is true, and real, and alive being made invisible.
But this reminds me of the problem with wind.
The problem with wind is that it too, is invisible. You can’t actually see it, or know its there until something else is moved by it; trees, flowers, your hair, milkweed seeds. Then suddenly it’s right there in front of you, visible, has been there all along, doing it’s work, living it’s life, playing it’s part in this grand, and wonderful scheme.
And now I’ve realized, like the milkweed seeds, I’m moved by something invisible, by the the ones our culture of oppression tells us don’t exist, don’t matter, are not worth anything.
So today, I mourn for the invisible ones we’ve lost, that have slipped away without so much as a nod. Native people, entire indigenous cultures, animals, especially predators, women. Entire ecosystems. Victims of rape, and violence, and torture, and war. People, animals, and things who are not leaders or participants in this culture of death and destruction, but have been swept away in the flood.
But just like the milkweed seeds showing us the wind, if all the invisible ones on this planet stand together, something magic can happen. A trick of the light, a turn of the hand, a slight of the wrist and,
We can become visible.
And think, if just a few milkweed fluffs, moved by wind, can wear down mountains and shape landscapes, tear off roofs and level cities, scour the world clean, so it can grow again, fresh and new,
Imagine what we can do, the invisible ones, made visible.
But first we must be moved.
Thanks to Michelle for the beautiful pics. in this post. And for the walk that inspired it.
That is all for now,