So, here I am. Los Angeles, three blocks from Melrose precisely, adjacent to those rolling Hollywood Hills. L.A. is this labyrinth of glamour and its direct opposite, poverty. Driving for a mile displays the entire incompatible socioeconomic condition. Its almost confusing to take in when I'm driving around and I keep bouncing between these neighborhoods without enough time to comprehend which neighborhood I just passed and what one I'm coming into. I'm usually busy thinking about poverty when I'm honked at by a brand new Mercedes.
I sometimes wonder what I am doing here, but then the wondering just perpetuates more questions that finally get me to just stop fighting for an answer.
Live the questions and find that the question becomes the answer.
Have you ever received a present wrapped in beautiful paper that you don't want to open because you're afraid that whatever it contains may not be as gratifying as having this intriguing wrapped present? The curiosity becomes more thrilling than the gift itself. That is what this city was to me for so long. I didn't know how to answer when people asked me what it was like to move to a new city. I had this image of this present, wrapped in shining paper and I just let it sit there. I didn't want the glamour to wear off, but of course it did. What was inside? It was one of those practical gifts, one that is nowhere near what I anticipated. Not necessarily good or bad. Its just there- and its up to me when, where and IF I apply it. So that's that. This glamorized city is just a city, practical and impractical in relativity to the person its handed to.
So I was left raw, no community of people to cheer me on or tell me who I am anymore. Just the sidewalk of the city at my feet and and no answers. For awhile, I wondered if these things would just appear by themselves? Maybe strangers would recognize me on the street and say "Ah yes, Linnea, We KNOW you, and this is your city, you're going to be great here." But no, it was still just me. I began to just started moving with the flow, like catching a current and letting it pick me up before I had much time to think about the destination. I've come to find that the more I move with it and ease into it, the more I discover. It doesn't have to be monumental, just small movements, interactions, laughter, people- it all manifests itself.
I walk these streets incredibly amazed by my tiny little body in comparison to the vastness of this city. Pieces of me are blown away at every turn, gracefully and wishfully, almost like a dandelion picked up by a child, its petals breaking off and carried away by the fierce speed of the wind. But that is what makes it so invigorating and dangerous. Let those pieces go and watch them dance in different directions, falling into someplace unknown only to be rediscovered later in life. I'm not scared. Above all, I penetrate my fear. I look at my body as a tool kit completely capable of constructing something out of nothing, and that has proven to be quite a lot. My past dissolves in every forward step I take. I'm not afraid to be alone, or to endure that loneliness, because the only thing I am left with is myself, and that really isn't so bad. When I start to become afraid, intimidated, lonely, I linger around waiting for the lesson to come around, like squeezing a sponge as hard as I can, and then squeezing it one more time just for kicks. Those last drops seep between my fingers. Then I let go. Letting go makes everything less somber. With that attitude, I find everything funny. I don't know what it is, but I just laugh so much at this whole experience. I've let go of this incredibly serious side of myself, because it only ever caused me to block out humility- to take a certain point of view too personally or too drastically that laughing seems to disobey my sincerity in life. A lot of things in my past have become objects of laughter rather than regret or pain. I take things in with honesty rather than seriousness. We're so fragile. And a point of view can be broken in a single moment, but that ability to laugh at myself in that moment when it is shattered to pieces is what pulls me through. My professor showed us this quote the other day, and I take it to heart in this situation.
"People are stronger than they know but more fragile than they seem."I think of my friend Lila in Brooklyn, NY when I see this, because it so much outlines our experiences.We're both tiny bodies in foreign cities, following this current of life, delicate and breakable at any moment, dandelions blown away by our own vulnerability. Scared and uncertain, pulling, pushing, and then realizing that none of that is necessary. Feeling that wind, and recognize the impervious power of vulnerability. It thickens our skin, and pumps blood to our veins. It gives us life and the energy to smile in the face of uncertainty.
NAMASTE
