Pauses in breath, the spaces in between, nooks and corners unseen--what does invisibility mean to me?
There is the sweet kind of concealing; two tumbling into one, protecting one from the other. Mending the ache, ache becoming slivers of hope--a transformation, a shield, a silent growth.
But then there’s the dark kind of invisibility. The screams no one can hear, the sneering thoughts demanding to appear, begging for you to lend an ear. Slippery anxiety, all embedded within an invisible consciousness, known only to you behind the scenes. It is this--this discriminatory nature of the unseen--that hurts the most; to be unperceieved means that first you have to be. To be. To be, to experience invisibility. What does this mean?
Duality--it means there’s a duality to invisibility. It’s seeing someone that doesn’t see you. It’s seeing yourself, but only yourself--no one else. Alone. Singular, a one sided conversation, and a one sided door, something that tells you: you are being ignored.
But within this duality, there is beauty. A facet I’m forgetting because the negative is too upsetting; where are the words when you need them in the dewy awakenings of the morning? But the beauty. The beauty of invisibility lies in the silent sound of raindrops that you do not hear racing towards your face, ripe with the feeling that maybe something up there loves me. What is this force this feeling of light that I feel within me that I know is not me--perhaps a quirky quantum possibility? All I know is that what invisibility means to me finds itself in cosmic stardust, a sight unseen, this blue marble we call home that is teeming, teeming with souls that I will never know because of the nature of these in-betweens, the feeling that spirituality cannot possibly be a made-up scheme because just look at all this dimensionality rubbed among us so serene and purposefully.
I will never know if my neurons think I’m a moron for pondering simple questions so heavily.
I will never touch the insides of my anxious consciousness, scattered with fears of all the possibilities.
I will never taste the clouds, because of unattainability. Is unattainablity a kind of invisibility? Does he exist, my one and only?
Invisibility. In my irritability with the essence of what it means to be unseen I realize that a mother does not immediately get to hold her baby.
Perhaps I am too eager to unveil the mysteries of existence that I am forgetting the wisdom concerning matters of distance.
I applaud invisibility for its strength in holding its own, not budging for a stranger’s groan, no matter how hard it is to be unknown. I forget that invisibility’s duality does not kill two birds with one stone, it lets them pause in breath, wiggle into the spaces in between, and only eventually, see the nooks and corners once unseen.