The Chosen Glass

  Written: Unknown. Date saved: December 1, 2022. 

This really funny and pretty author once told me about the incredible depth of what it means to look at a flower, how its roots can ground us against the winds of all that is complex and uncertain in life, which is contrastingly presented to us with a flower’s simple beauty. From what she told me, you can basically see anything in a flower. I can see us; The inexplicable force that brought us and keeps us together, the level of connection and understanding we have for each other are a result of something I believe is larger than us, something that we can hardly understand and best not question. Yet in the moments when we feel connected, whether we are together or apart, we, like a flower, are so blissfuly simple. We share boundless love without need for explanation. As one who tends to get lost and wander the unsettling complexities rather often, I urge us to look at the simple side of things, especially at the times we find it hard to be physically apart. 

Written: October 26, 2024

Me 

I’ve included this one piece of writing, though I didn’t write it myself, because at the time it was written, I had recieved it as a portrait of myself painted by someone else, created for me through a description on a piece of paper.  Being seen, heard, and understood through something I create (in this case, "Board of Everything") has only happened with one person, and I am yet to believe it will ever happen again. Often, my mind struggles to understand my own work when I revisit it, as it’s usually wrapped in metaphors or abstract ideas meant to convey concepts and emotions that words alone can’t easily express. My writing acts as a channel for something greater than me, something mysterious and confusing. I emerse myself in a trance to create without fluency - I disconnect my body from my mind and rather my body is connected with something else, something greater. When I return back, I sometimes dont seem to know where I went. I’m simply just the paintbrush but my bristles are slightly chewed up on my end, leaving a guessing game for me to find some sort of clarification. Receiving this letter was like receiving a retouched and refined portrait to see myself more clearly when all the mirrors around are foggy and cracked. To have met someone who understands what I create better than I do was a gift I am forever thankful for— regardless that the outcome was ironically choosing a different glass to look through, destroying the garden of flowers we had grown together on the board by watering it with alcohol.