Your exhibition, all the selves; what would they tell you?
a simple exploration and prompt
“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
I planned to share a little with you about the process of writing historical fiction this week. I still plan to do so, especially since I haven’t written about craft in a while, but here’s a riff and invitation instead.
I imagine I meet my former self at the bus stop on High and 2nd, pluck the Newport from her fingers and tell her not to use the astringent or drink the pre-mixed Long Islands.
“Your habits are too harsh,” I say. “You have to keep your energy up and you have a lot of healing to do. Might as well start now.”
She sidesteps me with one side of her mouth pursed. Rude. I’d interrupted dopamine hits and daydreams. But some part of her hears me when I assure her it’s just fine to be afraid. It’s fine if it means presence.
I imagine meeting myself as a younger child who is still full of wonder: hair curly and energy buoyed by the sun. This younger me would yell to look up, smush her hands together to release the color from each picked dandelion.
She is in awe of a slug creating cursive on the sidewalk and spreads her arms to envelop the sky, her fingertips stained the most magnificent yellow.
I imagine both versions witnessing a middle-aged woman who works more hours than she sleeps, who speaks with steady confidence but forgets to drink enough water. Who never feels she does enough.
These former versions of myself see a woman with fewer legal rights but more personal autonomy than either of them; they see a woman proud of her few stray silver hairs and losing her interest in pleasing systems that don’t serve her.
They ask me what I need, if I am okay.
I tell them they will be just fine, but they insist I answer.
“What about you?” they say. “What about today?”
Week 4 Prompt: If you met your formers selves, what might they tell you?
Get the journals out! … I would love to hear what comes up for you.
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Other posts that might offer some value…
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Oh gosh. Love this writing. My former self ... at 35 or 50, even 65 ... so much I would say to her. Mostly, be bold.
Thank you.