Dust

There are moments when I feel like the dust swimming and dancing in the sunlight.  So still and unseen until light touches it, the slightest shift in air pressure and the dust starts swimming in response.  I feel like this dust, just sitting and waiting for sun to touch me, for wind to move me so I can dance, so someone can notice me.  It’s a lovely feeling to move. An interesting idea to be dust, a question that would never answer itself if you were this quality, what would it feel like to be this unnoticeable?  But as dust you would never know the difference. There would be no sensations of annoyance, of a constant swiping away. You would just swim with the sun. Dance with the wind.

I had a friend say something the other day that I thought to be quite profound, “I think the danger in calling someone strong is setting an expectation that they always need to be that way”.  That perhaps for a day they can’t feel like their very existence has been one of only dust particles. They must hold the boulder that everyone else stands on because if they don’t, who will? They are resilience, endurance, determination, the very essence of strength, and without them, who would we look towards.  Strong people are at the highest risk of falling because they are the least seen, the dustiest. Strong people are not strong for no reason. Resiliency is not genetic. They are not immune to pits of pain.

I feel like dust often but no one ever knows.  I don’t usually share when I feel small because I’m not supposed to, it makes people uncomfortable when those words come from my mouth. I’m not a dusty human being, at least that’s what people think.