I don’t say she’ll have to work around interruptions and invisibility and micro-aggressions and a scarcity of role models and a lifetime of her own conditioning. My job on this panel is to make this place sound good, so I leave some stuff out. Particularly the fact that I’m drinking at least one bottle of wine a night to dissolve the day off of me. – Kristi Coulter, “Enjoli”
This post started out as a bunch of pondering, pontification, and platitudes. There’s nothing worse then someone giving you a life lesson who has had a terrible go navigating her own.
I’ll just cut to the chase; the other day I had a sit-down with someone who speaks in a way so tedious that you feel like you’re enduring a history lesson from the civil war. You have no idea why you’re talking about the civil war or why anyone would think that you cared. As I watched this person float in and out of the realization that they were talking to a person with their own thoughts and perspectives, I too had my own thoughts about how to navigate the conversation, mostly to end it and dig a hole somewhere for me to stick my head in. Just when I think I’ve figured out how people work or I have some key to mapping the course that’s laid before me, the route changes.
A surprising thought came to me after, that birds have been adapting to the changing landscape for 80 million years, and it gave me some comfort, that I wasn’t alone. I even felt some compassion for the “professor,” albeit briefly. I’m no Mister Rogers.
The narrator from the movie “Winged Migration (2003)” says “The story of bird migration is the story of promise – a promise to return.” In one of the more poignant scenes a flock of birds are taking their same 9,000 mile journey, only to land on a large deck of a ship, the usual spot where they would find sustenance, water, or escape the elements for a while. The look on the birds’ faces is heartbreaking; they are so confused and tired as they wander around the ship. I could only watch the movie once.
I hope that in my navigating this earth I return someplace where I am safe, where I know the road home, even if it’s just within myself. I am satisfied that this is my lot, the daily adventure of living.