It’s 4pm in Corralejo. The sun and the wind (locally called Alisios1) are at this perfect equilibrium in which it’s not too hot nor too cold. Delicious.
Making it even more yummy is a song that comes on the speaker that one of my best friends is controlling.
God what is this? (Also is he reading my mind?)
It’s the perfect melody to the moment.
I purposefully don’t Shazam the song because I know it’s on a playlist he made that I haven’t yet listened to in full.
I figured it was the closest I could come to feeling like it was my first time hearing it again. Let the playlist surprise me.
I realize this is something I unconsciously do quite often. The letting life surprise me thing.
What a blessing to see these words dribble onto the page.
I Shazam’d the song because I wanted you to hear it too:
I am glad I did…
Je ne connais rien à l'amour
Je le cherche encore
Je le cherche tous les jours
I know nothing about love
I'm still looking for it
I'm looking for it everyday
In the theme of surprises, I have recently been caught off guard by how much I love spending a lot of time with others.
It sounds trite to write this on a keyboard and shoot it into the ether.
But as I look back at the last five-ish years in particular, I realize how much I didn’t allow this to be true.
It’s almost as if this shade washed over me.
A window screen between myself and the world. I could look out and see through the screen of course and others could see within, but nothing could truly get in or out.
But you see, the thing is I couldn’t see that the screen had been installed.
It’s like I got a veryyyyyy slow software update. With each and every thought of insufficiency, imposter syndrome, not enoughness (you know the drill), the shade was being built: don’t see me.
More precisely: don’t see me fully.
If you can only see some, then there is not chance of the whole thing being sour. If you only take a bite of one portion of the dish, then you can’t say you don’t like the entire meal.
After becoming a master contortionist in never allowing my full self to be seen, I was worn out. I myself couldn’t see anything at all.
When you bend to the desires of what you think others want to see in you, you eventually lose sight of yourself.
And so, I quite literally took everything out of my vision.
How could I see others if I couldn’t see myself?
After deeply enjoying a month long trip in Mexico, I decided to stay for….who knew how long it would be at the time.
It ended up being almost 1.5 years.
This all happened under the hood though. In the moment, I was just following the pull of my heart.
Hindsight is only known after the fact.
I get a whole other dose of hindsight when driving through the windy roads of Jandía…down to the beach of Playa de Cofete…y dentro de mi corazon.
The tears trickle down my face.
They grieve the parts of me that got entranced by isolation. “Don’t get your identity on me!” they screamed as I refined the edges of my own.
I realized that I had spent so much time in solitude which was at first very needed that I went totally into the cave of isolation. One in which I became fearful of coming out. I was so afraid that others would reject the whole being that had gone within, and subsequent that total self if I let it out.
Can I trust what will happen with this fresh skin?
The tears finding their way across my cheekbones and eventually to my chest also serve as streams of joy. Celebration that this shade no longer feels true. Nothing to guard, nothing to protect from, nothing to withhold.
When the foundation of a structure is sound, there’s no threat in letting air through.
In the backseat of the Toyota Highlander, I run my hands over my body. My heart, my eyes, my legs, my ears.
Again: hindsight is only known after the fact.
On the edge of the cliff of both myself and seemingly the world, I wonder: Where did the shield go?
It no longer feels crazy to not find it there.
It feels good.
Well, actually, more than good…right.
Words can’t describe it. More like the Alisios passing through the sea air.
Free, open, messy, swirling, whirling…here.
I hadn’t known that I had been undergoing yet another slow software update this whole time.
Some of my dearest amigos singing to the music in the front seats, bickering, laughing, existing in silence.
My friend lays her hand on mine.
One of the greatest myths the ego will ever tell us: we’re not worthy of being witnessed while we’re in flight.
But the truth is, we never really land.
Might as well fly together.
…it is damn sure more fun that way.
Kiss kiss.
Other Bites:
This song ! !! Summer anthem energy
snippets from the alien land:
How Should a Person Be? by Sheila Heti — I won’t shut up about her writing style; it’s yum yum yum for the brain; inventive, unique, cynical, soft…frickin weird…we all know i <3 weirdos
If you read Pure Colour you will love this :)
For so long, I struggled to get in a groove of finding new Substack writers to read, and these days I feel like I can’t get enough…here are some:
Annnnd that is all for now. May we be seen! Together! Besitos.
trade wind tings
You know, I don’t think we can truly understand the joy of community until we feel the joy solitude and vice versa. The world is balanced. Welcome back!!
We criticize algorithms sometimes, but playlists are one of the most enchanting ways to watch the connectedness of everything unfold over time.