imperfect purities

Recently I’ve been learning about metaphors of life. It seems like each day presents me with a new one, leaving me feeling frustrated and excited all at once. I’ve spent the past week at the hospital, working I mean. It has taught me a lot about people and the way we interact. Approaching someone on their level immediately presents a window of trust. I watched a nurse get impatient with a patient who had had multiple brain hemorrhages, strokes, and cardiac arrest. She was having a hard time understanding what direction she needed to turn in order to get to the door. And as I watched this happen, my heart grew heavy, seeing the patient’s eyes turn a darker shade, her face twisting with disappointment and confusion.

Making a situation lighter is something I’m told I’m good at. My dad once told me I can disarm people with just a look. This is not something I ever actively try to do, yet I do make an active decision to approach people as a space of safety. This has been incredibly difficult for me to find throughout my life, finding refuge usually completely alone. I created safe places for myself all throughout my childhood. Choosing to be the one person I could count on to provide comfort. This is a boggling thing to me now.

Safety has always been a wisp of wind that is tongue twisting for me to explain, word out. This is the best I can do. Safety is a difference in the air. It’s a feeling I think most humans are rather attune to, whether or not they admit or notice it. It is a feeling of belonging; a feeling of “as you are”; a security in lack of judgment, and presents of love. It is ears and eyes, warmth and color. Safety is not a place. It is a sensation. A deep-rooted, gut releasing sensation of being known and loved.

I have a sandwich baggie full of polaroids from all walks of life; these pictures have captured safety for me and they travel with me wherever I go, decorating my walls and mirrors, sitting beside my green friends, my oxygen. It’s all imperfect but it’s all pure. That’s safety for me.