A well of wisdom
On being reminded of who I am and have always been
One of my closest friends from college arrived at my house late one night earlier this month, suitcase and well of wisdom in tow. Seven years had passed since we last saw each other, but that’s of no real significance because Heather used to sleep over on my futon and make eggs on toast for breakfast and harmonize with me to that one Fleet Foxes song and make next-day art deadlines entertaining at 2:00am. So when she stepped through the kitchen door hauling her clothes and life lessons, I could have sworn I’d seen her yesterday.
Some old friendships are just like that. They require no performance, no pretense, no constant self-assessment to ensure you’re presenting the most likable, relatable version of yourself. Instead, they’re like shrugging on an old sweater; you’re distinctly familiar with the feel of the knit, the pilling under the arms, and that hole at the hem your fingers always seem to find. They recall and remind you of who you were in softer seasons, before the anxieties of adulthood took root and the age of thirty seemed a lifetime away.
Heather and I are now both twenty-nine and nearing the end of our Saturn returns (What is that? Read this!). We discovered as we talked into the night that we have been cycling through similar thought patterns around personal identity and finding freedom in existing as the fullest, most honest versions of ourselves. Reinvention has been at the forefront of my mind recently as I examine and reframe the ideologies I’ve held as truth around my understanding of my personal femininity, and I’m making strides creatively to dig into that process. It’s been deeply nourishing to consider how I’ve convinced myself to believe something that may not actually be true.
I told Heather a feel like a different person now — weren’t we just babies back then?
But she reminded me of pieces of myself I’d forgotten, that I’ve let slip from the narrative. Parts of myself she sees clearly still, crystalline in her memory of a younger, more naïve me.
She brings up a photography project I did for a class when I was nineteen, whose whole purpose was the exploration of the female body in relation to nature via self portraits I made on film. It was my first foray into the subject of femininity and a meaningful personal endeavor, but I have failed to recognize its inherent and frankly obvious connection to my recent creative work. I may not be taking nude self portraits anymore, but my interest in understanding the feminine motifs I’ve been drawn to in my work recently is an exploration of the same path to a better understanding of myself.
Sometimes you need someone who knew you in a past life to remind you who you are in the current one.
Heather is a Pisces, which makes sense because my memory of Heather is of her fluidly in motion. In motion making art, in motion dancing, in motion borrowing my clothes. Everything in her life is held loosely: ideas, hobbies, apartments — even friendships. She embraces change as a welcoming home and sees challenge as a space for growth, inviting vulnerability in those around her and carving out safe spaces wherever she goes. She digs deeper and feels more than most, and though she talks as much as me she always says more with less.
She says she has a “greedy soul.” She’s hungry for the world. You can feel it when you’re with her. It isn’t a malicious greed, but one based in a deeply rooted necessity to experience everything. My creature-of-habit self seeks routine and structure, but being around Heather reminded me that uncertainty is just another motivation for curiosity in our lives — opportunities to dig deeper.
I feel lucky to have friendships that fill that deep well of connection within me. That make me leave with questions about myself and the wider world. That make me less afraid to be seen and known for who I am in the most tender parts of my heart. Sharing my big-feeling self can be scary, but isn’t that what we need more of? Vulnerability? The most precious relationships in life come from baring our souls, allowing others to peek into our inner worlds and pass judgment on what they see there. There will always be ones who won’t even ask to look, but the ones that matter will.
I want to be as soft as Heather remembers me. I want to go into the world with my eyes wide open and my heart as soft as a ripe summer peach — and I want the world to take a bite.
That last line really captivated me. It creates such a vulnerable image in the mind! I think reflection is an important part of beginning a new decade, and how wonderful that you have a friend that brings back your inner spark with you at this time, that you two can reflect together.
I remember when you made that self portrait series! Those images still hold up :). I think that self introspection is inevitable as you get near your thirties—I’ve been through a lot of change in the last few years and am trying to flesh out who I am now vs who I used to be as well. Having those long term friends can be so helpful for remembering all the different facets of ourselves!