For me, it’s a lifelong and daily battle.
To be the person I know myself to be. Beyond the fear, beyond all expectations.
Or be the person I know I should be, because I would feel a greater sense of belonging and approval.
Leaves. I love leaves. I love them on a tree, underfoot, in piles, images in books and even the fact pages in books are known as leaves. I view leaves as people. Individually and as a collective. Leaves are lovely.
As a child, I could never bring myself to kick them, although I did lift them up and threw them into the air and enjoyed the feeling of them raining down onto me. Trees I have always viewed as people too. People holding up leaves and then when they felt ready to, because their arms were exhausted, letting them too rain down onto the earth and the world below.
I have always viewed trees, leaves, the bark on trees, branches, twigs and stones, the earth itself, the myriad tiny creatures within that, as people. People just like you or I. Everything as alive and yes, sentient. Even stones.
In societal terms, and to many I’m a weirdo. A freak. An oddball. Strange. Bizarre. A target for bullies. Someone to be spoken down to. Not quite good enough. Not enough.
The energy I have put into fighting that all my life, has been gargantuan and very tiring.
Wanting to fit in, to be like everyone else.
As I’ve gotten older, it’s become harder to do so. I had hoped with the passage of time, I would more fully integrate and be less ‘sticky outey’ and less jarring to the ‘normies’ but that hasn’t happened. In fact, I would say that I’m ‘weirder’ than I have ever been.
I’m me. Weird, strange, odd.
And yes, I do view leaves as people.
Nature Music Art 