The Slippery Part

Mary Oliver says the creative process, from which beautiful words and art are born, is a kind of courtship. The courtship is one between the rational, tangible part of ourselves and the more slippery, bashful part of the soul from which beauty emerges. In order to create, we must set aside time to meet with that elusive, cautious part of ourselves from which poetry springs.

There are times when I am more in touch with this slippery, cautious part of me -- when I am more sensitive and perceptive to the world, and more able to speak my innermost thoughts into existence. But, most of the time, I am too busied with the practical matters of life. I don't set aside time to meet with the slippery part (the truest part) of me. Instead, I wait for it to emerge. But, trust isn't built this way.

On my way home from work one late night, I saw a figure in the middle of the road illuminated by my headlights. It looked to be a coyote, or perhaps a fox, and it turned its head to stare at me before running into the darkness. The stare seemed to have lasted moments. The chance encounter felt significant in some way, though I spoke of it to no one. While running last month, I had a similar encounter with a deer -- a flash of brown and white in my peripheral vision. When I stopped to stare, I noticed the graceful figure had stopped too, and we shared a look before it bounded back into the tall grass. Such encounters are wild and elemental. Dreamlike moments such as these have become increasingly rare in our world.

Meetings with the slippery parts of ourselves have similarly become rare. We are constantly hurried, busied with responsibilities. When we aren't, we're preoccupied with screens that keep us from observing the world around us and connecting with one another in a way that is genuine. Self-reflection and silence are rare. We've become calloused to the beauty of everything that surrounds us, unmoved and imperceptive.

After a hurried, confusing year of adjustment I feel as if I have an opportunity to come back to myself. My slippery, cautious, wild self that I have yet to understand and likely never will. The beauty of every person is this elusive self hiding in the shadows ... when it reveals its face the entire world stops to align itself. These are the moments when we feel most in sync, most right -- hyper aware of our existence in this world and the beauty of that existence.

This past year I've been confronted by a host of challenges. I've been hurt and hardened, and I've failed at a lot of things. There were times when I grew hostile to my surroundings, constantly longing for peace, quiet, solitude and escape. I've ran from people and I've ran from obstacles. I've watched passively as friendships have faded. Simultaneously, I've built new friendships, learned a lot, and did the best I could to succeed in this place where I am now planted. Have I fallen? Absolutely. But, I've made it. Still imperfect, still with no roots, still with a whole lot of growing to do.