dear elin
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Don’t let the world outside there break you
They know not who you are inside
They have never felt your hell
Don’t ever let them crack…
Hold out I know you feel it getting cold out
Without the blanket for your soul now
Before you know it you’ll be frozen
You have to see this through
There’s no one here but you
I feel the rain coming down
It reminds me of who I used to be
But now that’s nothing more
Then a memory
Don’t go, to sleep and cry because tomorrow
If you let it it will swallow
You up and none of this will matter
Will matter anymore
Follow your heart and see where it might take you
Don’t let the world outside there break you
They know not who you are inside
They have never felt your hell
Don’t ever let them crack…
Your shell…
~Brandi Carlile
Of all the emails I’ve received since I began this photo-journal, none has touched me more than an email from a woman who lives in Norway and apologized for her broken English. She had in fact written and sent the email last year but I never received it, and after opening herself so fully and poignantly without response from me she still had the kindheartedness to send yet another encouraging email to me last month. When I responded to that email she realized from the sound of my letter that I probably hadn’t read her first. So she very bravely but hesitantly resent the original. I am honored and grateful that she did.
We live in a world that teaches us to not get too personal. Don’t reveal too much, especially to strangers, because, well, that’s just stupid, potentially dangerous, and ultimately humiliating. So we keep our doors locked, our dark secrets buried, and wake each morning putting on the plastic mask with the big happy face and hollow eyes that lets the world believe we are doing just peachy. When we retire again at night and pull off the mask, we look in the mirror and wonder why it seems that everyone else is doing so damn much better than we are.
And then there are those like Elin. People whose masks have been broken or damaged from birth or unfortunate circumstances…….or like me, whose mask never did fit quite right and just became too uncomfortable to continue wearing. So here we are, unprotected like the others, and forced to make a choice: stay safely inside the confines of our self-made prison, or venture out nakedly and risk everything.
What I’m discovering Elin, is that when I muster the courage to take those bold steps and plunge forward without cover I get to feel the warm sun strike my bare cheeks, the wind through my hair, and even the rain feels exhilarating and fresh and *alive*. More importantly, I am unencumbered and free enough to truly see and be seen by others just like you. What a wonderful feeling that is!
You spoke of us having a lot of sadness and a little hope, but don’t you see it’s just the opposite? You would never have written me in the way you did if deep inside your heart wasn’t full of hope. Yes, there is sometimes sadness in feeling so much in a world that often appears anesthetized, but without the mask to impede my vision I see miracles everywhere that I hadn’t noticed before. And hope so much larger and more powerful than fear could ever be.
I still have my mask somewhere under my bed I‘m sure, and there are days when I consider scrounging around under there, finding it, and putting it on. Days when I think I don’t have the strength to feel all this feeling and remain so vulnerable…….when I just want to be the same as everyone else. But you know, I’ve gotten used to the way I breathe easier without the plastic covering my face………the way colors shine brighter and the earth is more fragrant. I choose to remain real and flawed in hopes of attracting more that is real into my life.
I like the song above, which a lot of people may consider to be a little sad. But each time I’ve listened to it since reading the email you resent me, I think of you and I feel hopeful for both of us. Don’t let the world outside there break you, Elin. You have much to give.
With love and gratitude,
~Cynthia
