The Brighter Side
The exterior is in motion; insides slowly grow.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s uncomfortable as all hell. Actually — it sucks. The process of trying to pull the best from oneself, in my experience at least, is like pulling that crappy clump of hair from the shower drain. Tedious, scary, and something I’d really rather not see.
But maybe that’s the work required to be better. We perpetually exist in a present that lies between reality and who we really want to be someday. It’s a gap that needs to closed, so with time and practice we learn to lean into the scary.
Besides, it’s probably not possible to live a life worth living without growth and change. It’s part of our evolutionary DNA.
It was exactly a year ago that I moved from Manhattan to the Bay area.
On one of my first nights here I met an old friend for happy hour.
“M” was a creative director for an electronics company before turning freelance photographer. Along with having a hot Instagram account he took portraits of early Facebook investors and their babies. We met at a record release party in L.A. ten years ago.
Kindred spirits always, we seemed to understand each other in the way creative people often do.
We were ponied up at a whiskey bar in the Mission neighborhood of S.F.
Twilight crept in quietly behind.
“Your aura is blue.” He was saying.
“You have like a blue halo hanging above you.”
We were facing each other on bar stools. He was gesticulating with his hands.
“There’s something happy yet sorta sad there.”
I was happy to have a halo but wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Do I seem depressed?”
“You seem happy but like with this reluctant spin. What the fuck happened? I mean you look fabulous, I’m just saying.” He waved his hands once more before reaching over to snatch the drink menu.
It got me thinking. Do we all harbor a sad side? And if so, do some of us show it more than others?
Highly creative people need a rainbow of colors to choose from. We also need to put them to use.
I don’t know, it might be hocus pocus. But it’s more gentle when someone calls you out with a metaphor rather than simply stating “you’re sad!” or finding ways to tiptoe around the issue.
These colors, or whatever they may be, are visible when we think no one’s watching. They’re in the micromovements in our face, the delayed reactions that come before a filtered response. They lead us to those times when we need to retreat within ourselves — or have yet another whiskey — before we go back out into the world to be brave again.
They encourage us to make rash decisions rather than listen to the best version of ourselves always. They also feed on the idea that we don’t deserve to be stronger, better, more accepting or self-forgiving. They live in a dark place of self doubt, guilt, and shame, telling us that it’s okay to settle.
Like an old arcade game, they light up after our soul has been dinged.
My blue halo gave power away to those thriving in the darkness.
After all, many who reject all forms of spirituality still go on believing in the devil.
When I’m around M I’d have to guess that his halo is mostly orange, yellow and gold. Sometimes cooler colors are thrown in. Maybe a tinge of blue later on when we talked about depression and anxiety. Or was that just us being real?
In the next year I’d build myself back up, finally able to work with that hot blue heat. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still fall down sometimes. Except I’d be more forgiving when I did.
On the highest of days I felt like a leader — a master of her life and purpose, marching down a glittery road paved with opportunity. Other days it wasn’t so great. “You’re a cultural anthropologist,” I’d whisper to myself in the elevator on the way to work. “You’re immune to circumstance, merely observing another world for my own investigation and amusement.”
The narcissists and egomaniacs of the world don’t get it. They only see a skewed version of themselves reflected onto the faces of others. Those who cheer you on will witness the truth.
Our light carries the voice we bring to the world. It keeps us strong and enables us to emerge on the other side brighter and better than ever.
It’s authentic and brave — the most honest versions of ourselves, present and fully ablaze, in whatever hues they happen to take.
Originally posted in http://losangelestonewyork.tumblr.com/
More about the author: http://nicolecifani.com
