How Do You Want The World To See You?

Two months ago, someone asked me a question which has stuck with me.

How do you want the world to see you?

Now, I know from my experience as an artist and writer, I have zip for control over how someone perceives and responds to me and my creations, and I would not want such control.

Still, the question keeps popping into my thoughts.

How do I want to be seen?

I want to be seen as my truest self.  I want to be seen fully open-hearted, where love comes first in everything—what I feel and think, what I say and do, how I treat myself and how I treat the world.  Love as my first consideration.  Beginning there.  Choosing love in my connections, communications, actions, and reactions.

I don’t always manage to begin from love.  I get angry, tired, frustrated, impatient, sad, numb.  My open heart feels it all.  It needs to feel it all, that is its reason to be.  But then, reminding myself to choose love brings me back to a place where I can change how I feel.  It opens a space for me to shift the story I am telling myself, and make it different in this moment.

When I say to myself ‘choose love’, I am reminded I always have choice.  I can react, or I can pause and come back to my heart, recall who I am, and choose to create from love.

I’d much rather create from love.  Love allows me to be true to myself and what I want my life to be.

The question I began with, the question I was asked, isn’t the right question.

How do I want to see myself?  How do I want to see the world?  These are the questions.

I want to see myself, my life, and the world as a place that chooses love first.  Chooses compassion, kindness, and care.  Chooses connection, communication, gentleness, and patience.

A world that chooses to hold each other gently.

A me that chooses to hold myself gently.

This is how I want to see myself.  This is how I want to see the world.  This is how I want the world to see me.

All of us, choosing love first.

_________________

Image, Word, Emotion

‘Note to myself at 4 a.m.: I miss you’

For Christmas, my sister gave me a gift I’d hoped for, the book Rosalie Lightning by Tom Hart.

I cocooned myself on the living room couch, and read the book slowly over two December afternoons.  I could have read it slowly in one, but I had to stop halfway.  I had to stop and let my feelings wash through me.  Wash through me and make enough room to experience the second half of Tom’s story.

Rosalie Lightning is a graphic memoir.  Tom and Leela’s young daughter Rosalie died suddenly and unexpectedly. Tom found a way through, drawing and writing.

You’d think this memoir is about grief.  You’d be wrong.

Tom, Leela, and Rosalie’s story is about love.  Immense, devastating, life-filled love.

Grief is always about love.  I have learned this over the past year, grieving and loving first my Dad and then my cousin.  Feeling both empty and far too full at the exact same time.  Frozen in place, and yet needing to run as desperately fast as I could, as if I could outrun pain.

You can’t outrun your heart.

My heart—love—is the only thing that can carry me through when nothing feels right.

Tom knows about heart and nothing feeling right.  His book tells something unimaginable, chaotic, stark, crushing.  And yet, at the same time, his images and words show a way of continuing to love when you don’t know how.

Emotion.  I try, but words cannot hold the whole of it, and images only suggest it.  Then I see them together, and there is magic.  Together they walk me into layers of feeling another person’s world, knowing beyond any doubt my world feels the same.  Word and image together reach into my heart and heal me.

Tom Hart, your name fits you perfectly.  Say it aloud.  Hart.  Heart.

Thank you for Rosalie’s story.

_________________

In this post:

Rosalie Lightning:  a graphic memoir by Tom Hart.  St. Martin’s Press, New York.  2015.  http://www.tomhart.net/  I also have his book The Art Of The Graphic Memoir which I am beginning to work through.  This book came out in November 2018, also published by St. Martin’s Press.