You searched for it, found yourself desperately wanting it; a time in which that something moves swiftly, fluidly over you without the relentless memory of it cruelly, playfully peeling at your skin and enviously rushing in to hammer down what you’ve built up.
If there is anything you do, believe this- it does come. It takes you from behind, like a huge fistful of wind pushing you as you run across the expanse of a field. It treads carefully across your limbs, then seeps through into your insides.
It intertwines wisteria into your ligaments, swells cherry blossom in your chest, threads honeysuckle down your veins. It trickles a little molten lead into your blood, heats your stomach with fuelled flames, and sifts your head with a net allowing only grit and humour and hope to pass.
The it. It’s empowerment. And it’s temperamental, it’s stubborn, it won’t be clutched at by outstretched hands. But it does steadily invigorate those who fall and learn and fight and want, although at times with a foot almost in waters of submission, to believe that there is and will be better out there.
In the meantime, there is the gradual assembling of trusting that you are enough, that you absolutely radiate worth.
No wonder some get tempted by your being. But as they get closer, some become overwhelmed, scared, and pull themselves quickly away.
Yet, this won’t completely disorientate you. Your indignation chirrups too unhelpfully for that.
Alexandra Shaw x
There can be a sense of shame, sometimes almost disgust, in experimenting with the idea that you could deserve more. It can feel almost recklessly naughty, holding something which is urging better for you.
Whilst self-respect can be the loud, decisive, affirming push of summoned defiance in the face of something cruel, manipulative, belittling. It is also the softer voice.
The whisper that pecks at our chests and asks gently to be heard. It trembles with doubt and supposedly terrible self-indulgence, but it hushes at our humble protests and gives us the suggestion that maybe, just maybe, we have settled for something too much less than what we can, than we should, than we deserve.
It’s as though you set out chairs for others to sit by you, to talk with you, to take your energy, your time. You sculpt these chairs for them; carve elaborately for design and place velvet down for comfort. Continue. Emanate such generosity for others as though your exhales are saturated with the care. Yet mind they don’t rock on those chairs, scrape the floor, wobble and agitate the joints of the chairs weaker. Mind they don’t swiftly, smoothly, smirking, ask you up to dance with them, only to leave you beaming and breathless but your chair whisked away from underneath you and the others upturned, in their jealous, troubled, selfish sniggers and shrugs.
We are offering ourselves up to being brutally, clinically defined by a number.
Number of views. Number of comments. Number of likes.
These numbers have moved in to govern our confidence, craft our stance, decide how comfortable we feel within ourselves.
These numbers, these addictive, simple, blatant numbers have gained access to our empowerment, they have the ability to create surges of ego or provoke the deflation of dissatisfaction, the horrible warping of self-belief.
We have given them this power. We have nurtured and then spurred on this culture of judgement.
It takes such energy, such momentum to push away the forces which are relentlessly roaring in your ears.
Yet. In the end. It really is the unashamed, the raw releases and expression of human nature which are the most powerful, the most resounding.
There have been moments when I have doubted myself severely. I really wondered whether I should keep putting myself out here on the internet with my writing, because my visions for it weren't hurriedly succeeding. Yet, I was quickly shown that me writing my thoughts like this does not stop- it cannot be blocked by the negative opinions of others or the lack of enthusiasm from those around me. I have carried on. On, and on. Such things penetrate resistance, and we do come to see that this resistance stemming from social media is so utterly weak compared to our own relentless, burning determination. It should not, and it will not, discourage us from doing exactly what we feel we are here to do.
Alexandra Shaw x