I am learning a lot about my own responses and intuitions. I am learning about my ability to have a voice and express joy, surprise, pain, solidarity, commitment, and confusion. I am learning about my world and all those who flourish and struggle within it. I am learning about history and all the personal experiences that coalesce into it. I am firmly rooted in an uprooted and liminal becoming which carries me from one space to another.
I am still not sure about how to organize and validate this knowledge. I feel tentative about my path(s) but confident in being tentative, in acknowledging gaps in my understanding and the precarity of my process, in knowing I am actively carving out a process and a space for myself.
I am still not sure how to straddle personal truth, identity, justice, community, academia, politics, and art. I am still working out how my commitments reverberate in ever widening rings and how they touch others and reflect back to me with new resonance.
I am working on bringing my sisters and brothers and friends and family closer and embracing our personal and collective dreams, vulnerabilities, and trajectories. I am working on understanding and forgiveness. I am working on understanding when forgiveness is not my task.
I am working on reading and writing. I am learning to see. I am learning to say. I am working on finding better eyes with which to read the world and better hands to inscribe my truth onto it. I am working on making them more beautiful, truer. I am working on growing my vision. I am working on making it finer, specific. I am learning to be gentler, firmer, too.
I am working on remembering to write. I am working on remembrance. I am working on forgetting.
I am working on holding things, watching them grow, watering them, and sometimes giving them space. I am learning when I need to grow alongside them. And to see when they need different soil.