4.6
November 20, 2020

I’m Bravest when I’m Naked in the Shower: A Lesson in Vulnerability.

Song lyrics visit my consciousness in the shower.

I’m not even aware of my soul’s stance until my vibrato carries its message out while I’m saturated in suds. A melody cradles the words without any instruments. Sometimes my sleepy eyelids spring open when my consciousness meets my core. It shocks me. 

I dry the droplets off of my body and squeegee the shower door. Slathering shea butter lotion on my flaking autumn skin, I wrap a grey, cotton towel around my crown. My wet fingers slip on my phone’s home button while my thumb writhes in frustration. Why don’t you recognize me? I’m the same thumb—just with a little lavender soap on it.

I finally slip my way into my home screen and find the Voice Memo app. Over 50 recordings live rent-free on my phone. I’m adding another. When I open my mouth, I’m not even sure what will present itself. A beautiful mystery. It flows out of me and introduces itself like a kind acquaintance from years ago paying me a visit.

Sometimes I’m brave enough to share these. I’ll sing them to my husband, or to my mom, or to my friends. Most of the time I keep them hidden. They’re still growing, developing, and no one puts a bud on display in their home.

I do this when I write. My Notes App is riddled with the inner workings of my mind at 2 a.m. when I’m sure no one is listening. My phone houses poems, overtures, ruminations, and conclusions weaving a tapestry of my 29 years in this lifetime.

I’m slowly, gradually, realizing that I can’t keep these locked behind a screen for the rest of my life. Nothing is promised. I might not make it to the next recording. I may get distracted by societal expectations until I turn 60 and forget what I ever wrote, or felt, or sang in this moment.

I want to share. I want the universe to know me as much as I yearn to understand it. It terrifies me. What if no one listens? What if no one cares? 

Then, I remember. They’re not listening, yet. They don’t care, yet.

They can’t do either when they can’t feel either. I have to unlock my phone. I have to unlock myself

Sometimes it’ll be slippery and messy and I might not recognize me. I might writhe in frustration while I wait for the validation of the display screen with all the icons in working order. Still, I need to press on.

If I share, they can care. If I speak, they can hear. If I’m brave, I won’t fear.

My humble voice accounting for life’s moments may not shift the paradigm or transcend time.

Neither will I.

But I can try.

~

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