As I scroll down Facebook pages, coming across people's assorted values, I can't help but feel a disconnect, a sense of despair, an unfamiliarity with others and myself.
My life has unfolded into a story but not one that can be captured or told on social media. At least, not one that would ever ring true or hold real meaning for me.
We live in cliches and positives, in the platitudes we throw at ourselves and at each other. There is no life there. Just a veneer...a mask we've forgotten to take off...a mask we've mistaken for the real.
I feel that vastness and huge divide so greatly as I see people's smiles before the camera...as I see my smile captured in an intentional, though not purposeful, pose.
You'll never reach me there unless the veneer is all I am. But, it isn't. It can't be. I know I'm more...more than the pages of Facebook and Instagram.
I miss the group of people I used to know...my brothers and sisters. We looked for the magic. We wanted our lives to have meaning like words on a scroll...
It was never about the house or talks of square feet, not about property taxes or rental fees, nor about our jobs or professions and vacation time. It wasn't endless conversations about someone's child, or how intelligent s/he was.
I was with people who felt like family though we didn't have the same blood coursing through our veins. There was an understanding, a familiarity that was undeniable...and it was home.
What we showed the world was who we were. We left our masks at the door. There was no need to hide. Conversations ran deep. We saw our reflection in the other. We judged less harshly because of it...
I'll always remember those days, how the sun felt on my face, how beautiful life felt to me, how I let it move through me, knowing I was fine and where I was supposed to be.
I saw myself in a world I wanted to be a part of. I was a participant, not just an observer. Now, I watch, wait and see. Sometimes, seeing oneself in a moment is important to get to the very place we want to be. If you can't see or are unwilling to see, the veneer stays on for good. Some people hide and don't know they're hiding...How truly horrifying and tragic that is...
I pray I find home in the world again. I've carved a little place for myself right here. Here, there's no need to lie or embellish. Here, I think of Irish pastures, or sacred landscapes, of the desert, structures made of stone, flowers, vines, and trees. I smell the air...and whatever scent I choose to. I listen for the birds and the cicadas. I'm here, exactly where I want to be. Because here is the real.
And then I hear those words again but somehow, they don't sting quite so deep as they once did, "More than this, you know there's nothing."
