Posted in Being human

The things that really matter

There is music that runs through everything.  There is.  And it’s a kind of music that doesn’t require ears — it can be heard, it can be felt, it can happen through any sense.  But it’s music because of the way it falls together.

And when I crochet, I can feel the way the world is woven together, weaves itself together, with every movement.

Walking around, dancing, moving, I can feel the world, I can feel the way my movements bounce off the world and come back to me, I can feel things fitting together.

I have felt that I have become redwood soil before, felt the mycelium inside me, felt all the things growing and changing, the way the world fits together.

This reality, this depth, it is there underneath anything if you look at it right.

These are the things that matter in life.  Or, they are connected to the things that matter in life.  The things that make the world what it is, us who we are, being tiny pieces of this amazing world ourselves.

And when we are forced to see ourselves along one-dimensional lines, these important things drop out of our view, and we’re stuck with ideas and illusions that leave us cold and empty.

Until we can find some way to perceive the things that matter in life.  The love, the connections, the depth, the reality.

And sometimes it’s seemingly little things.  Like wearing your own clothes in the hospital.  Like having rocks.

Mel wearing hir own clothes (button-down shirt, suspenders, hat) in the hospital the other day, with a piece of granite near hir shoulder.
Mel wearing hir own clothes (button-down shirt, suspenders, hat) in the hospital the other day, with a piece of granite near hir shoulder.

But when you’re being forced to see yourself as a collection of deficits and medical problems, or anything else that makes you lose sight of these things, these ‘little’ things make all the difference in the world.

Because the world and all the good things in it haven’t gone anywhere.  It just sometimes feels like they have.  When people are pressuring us to see ourselves in a light that fits nobody, one which attempts to eliminate the core and depth and soul of our existence in this world.

It’s still there.  It’s still there. It’s still there.  All the things that really matter are still there.

Author:

Hufflepuff. Came from the redwoods, which tell me who I am and where I belong in the world. I relate to objects as if they are alive, but as things with identities and properties all of their own, not as something human-like. Culturally I'm from a California Okie background. Crochet or otherwise create constantly, write poetry and paint when I can. Proud member of the developmental disability self-advocacy movement. I care a lot more about being a human being than I care about what categories I fit into.

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