My body hates boxes. The corners make it shudder and the borders make it slither away until we both make a break for the oceanside—the only border I happen to love, irregular and regularly shifting. For a very long time I thought I was a fraud because I never did anything enough to satisfy my inner critic. When I would go all the way I’d encounter the perceived outer critic soon thereafter. These are the fears I carried on my heart:
– you don’t get to say or do that
– you are not allowed to express that
– you may not express that in that way
– you are not qualified – you are not allowed to take up so much space, to ask for so much, to play
I still have remnants of these fears stapled to my heart, but the paper they were smeared on is becoming so bleached by the sun that it’s disappearing. And the staples, well stitches fade after a while when the body reabsorbs the tissue.
My experience of the world and my lived experience is jumbled and aspects of various mediums bleed through the borders of one another. The borders of how I experience the world shift in a rhythm I feel but cannot always explain, nor seek to. It’s a wild journey, but when you see emotions alongside feeling them, when you hear poetry spill out upon being drawn in to a scene or memory, and when you accept that sometimes every sense will get tangled up, you surrender to the sturdy wildness of the ride.
All of that to say, I am in the final stages of battling and releasing the fight with my aforementioned fears. I’m going to continue to share what arises in whatever form it comes: movement, words, colors and shapes.
Thank you. Thank you for being here and there and all around. This interconnected world needs our shared effort to see one another with eager compassion and it needs us, desperately needs us, to step up and act.
Find out how you can help those affected by the current state of affairs (environmental, racial, gender based, etc.) and then commit to helping. And then commit to doing it again.
With boundless love,
Mădălina (aka Maddy…I also have a weird experience with which name I choose; it’s dependent on which parts of me speak).
(this was copied from instagram.com/maddybortes ; you may follow me on there for more regular posts of this kind)