[This guest article from my daughter, Serra Sewitch-Posey, is a call for authenticity, heart and bravery in the midst of our chaotic, uncertain times. May it inspire you as it did me.]
We are all confused and afraid. We are desensitized to horrific things. We go about our days planning dinners, doing our jobs, watching our shows. I feel distant, buffered from the madness unfolding at the White House, the constant “breaking news” email updates. I am buffered by my privilege, for now. My life has not been personally affected. I don’t feel the danger.
I feel strangely hopeful and alive. I like where I’m at in my life. I take walks and fold laundry and bake peanut butter banana muffins.
At my job as a hair stylist, sometimes I feel fulfilled, even inspired. One day I cut a woman’s hair who teaches yoga at a big creative space, who offered me the chance to teach a collage workshop there. The same day I cut the hair of a musician who had a show that night, who was on the verge of a European tour. He was tall, with a deep voice and a young face. He was impressed by my attention to detail, in a sort of “no need to make a fuss, it’s just hair” kind of way. I knew that later I would find his music and listen to it. I was not surprised when it was lovely, strange, familiar yet unique. Portland is a city bursting with musical talent.
On a different day at work I felt false, overly performative, grasping. My attempts to convey lightness and warmth were not well-received. They fell flat. Other times I ask people what they are watching, what shows and movies, because it keeps the conversation impersonal, which feels respectful sometimes when I sense a client is guarded. But it’s not really what I want to talk about. I barely watch anything myself.
What do I really want to talk about? Art, books, dreams. Music. Food. Animals. Myths. The nature of being. Poetry. The shapes of clouds. Passion. Love. Your first time. Your last time. Your top five favorite smells. Your favorite blanket from childhood. Your least favorite tattoo. What makes you different from other people. Near death experiences. Your lowest point, rock bottom. Falling short. Surprise successes. Your idols. Your secret crushes. How many times you wear a pair of pants before you wash them. When and where you would time travel to. Your weird obsessions. Commonplace facts of the world that you still can’t grasp. What your internal voice sounds like.
I mostly hold myself back from asking the really interesting questions, unless it seems fitting. Most people are not looking to get deep and real. Most people are exhausted, at their limit. Most just savor the opportunity to rest, to succumb, to surrender. Like the older woman I had as a customer recently who look ravaged by life, who gave me the barest minimum of directions, who sat perfectly still with her eyes closed until I was done. She smiled, thanked me and left.
I am still learning how to allow for quiet, to not let my insecurities trigger hollow chatter, and when to unearth the richness of life with another human being.
I went down an internet rabbit hole last night before bed, deciphering Post Malone’s face tattoos and learning about his $1.6 million diamond encrusted teeth. I felt myself wanting to judge him, but then thought, “There are infinite ways to exist in this world”.
Do the outrageous thing, break what little rules are left. The best way to defend yourself against tyranny is to refuse to live in fear. Dive deep, take risks, leave solid ground behind. Do your version of diamond teeth.
What’s mine, I wonder?