Moth is hiding
In my cupboard
All the muddiness
Calling to be looked at
I’ve heard so many stories from so many wonderful women. I’ve cherished their voices and honor the experiences that they shared with me. In sacred moments, when we sit in a circle or next to each other, we often talk about what is underneath; The precious moments that we carry in our hearts, the fragments of life that we carefully protect from the outside disturbances and noise.
We also speak about the moments in our lives that have taught us about courage that we’ve somehow embraced despite everything. We’ve spoken about the parts of self that we never revealed to anyone.
I’ve learned a lot from these conversations. I’ve learned a lot about myself, about my own mask and what was hiding underneath.
I’ve been working with layers of paint filled with a lot of uncomfortable personal fragments. It’s helped me to remove layers and layers of these unwanted feelings with the stages of grieving. The feelings of rootlessness, the sense of not-belonging, the fragments of personal narratives that wanted to be heard and seen.
I hid behind these layers until I allowed everything that was beneath the mask to teach me. It taught me about the fragments of selves that I kept hidden. The forgotten sheets of many stories that we lived and the stories that we are currently living. It’s taught me to remove old skin from the shade and illuminate it with a strong inner stare. I’ve stared at the wounds and the deepest sense of being. I’ve stared at my discomfort at leaping.
The revealing of all these layers helped me to start fully embracing what was hidden underneath.
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