Pain, Grief, and Farts

The more I face my own pain, the more I see yours. I know you hurt, because you exist. Do you know you hurt?

From series: Vessels (1/3) LOVE

Is this where, perhaps, our shared humanity can flourish?

Can we meet here, to cradle each other? To grieve AND celebrate our own births, while simultaneously laughing at the ultimate tragic comedy that is life?

And as we let the awe of existence crash over us, can we leave behind the cruelty we inflict on one another in the name of the pain we are too afraid to face?

What is it you are afraid of? Not external, societal-level fears, that are legitimately worrying. Internal fears. Fears you dare not look at.

I am afraid of many things. I am afraid of heartbreak, the kind that leaves you numb for years. I am afraid of burnout, the kind that strips you of your will to breathe. I am afraid of physical pain, the kind that repeatedly confines you to bed.

But, it seems that to run from these pains is to run from life. What else is pain but a reflection of the fact that we are alive?

From series: Vessels (2/3) EASE

In the years I have been (somehow) both numb and angry, trying to access grief, I would hear people say “Grief is love with nowhere to go”

Well meaning, and infuriating.

To me, grief has just been a word on a page.

Something I knew I was supposed to be 'doing', but couldn't access.

The numbness of heartbreak, is a silent-but-violent kind of fart.

It chokes you from the inside out, turning even the sweetest of things sour.

I’ve longed for a Symphony of Farts, the kind that would wake the gods, but all I got was silence.

Choking on your own farts is a quiet invisible death. One that keeps you only juuuust breathing.

I think grief, unlike farts, is not a thing to be DONE, but rather a thing to be LOVED.

From series: Vessels (3/3) AMBITION

It is not 'love with no-where to go', but instead demands that you love IT.

It's not a task to be performed, but a being to be held.

And, so what an exceptionally cruel joke it is, that the antidote for a broken heart is to love more, thus guaranteeing it to break over and over and over again.

What does one DO with that?

Well, I've been telling my people I love them, even though I can barely feel it (a consequence of a deep fear of the unbearable pain of losing them).

I've been flirting with ambition in my art practice, even though it feels unsafe (a consequence of a deep fear of burnout).

I've been practicing rest when I feel good, even though it brings up feelings of guilt and panic (a consequence of a chronic pain).

And, I'm relieved to report, cracks are forming. I'm fucking faking it until I make it and it might just be working.

So yeah, what are you afraid of? How loud are your farts?

About Vessels: In all their menstruation and womb-like vibes, these vessels hold within them antidotes to 3 pains I’ve spent years terrified of. Love (emotional pain), Ambition (mental pain), and Ease (physical pain).