It's cold and crisp and sunny outside and I'm waiting for Amazon to deliver my space heater so the aliens can stay warm this winter. It's a beautiful day and I want to spend the whole damn thing outside but I promised myself that I would get started, somehow get fucking started, on this book about how crows and travel saved the crow lady from the deadly depths of suicidal ideation, depression, self-loathing, and shamefully painful and embarrassing behavior that resulted from her emotional malaise.
This is how I'm getting started. This. What you're reading right now.
I think it can work. The book. And by work I mean I think I can write something people will want to read. It's sort of an emotional rags to riches biography meets fantastic journey wild-animal-whisperer kind of thing. The journey is internal and external. People can relate to these kinds of journeys, whether or not they have taken them. Most people have a desire to learn and grow. Most. Not all. I could judge these "not all" types, but, truth be told, I think it's because of them that I was pushed into my own self-discovery. A kind of sink or swim. Join them or beat them. I was joined with them when I was younger. I didn't know any better. It was just my worldview.
Space heater is here now which means I can keep warm while my ass is on the couch and my eyes are out the window looking at crows when they're not on my percussive finger tips. Prior to the arrival of the space heater was an uncomfortable huddling-up next to one of the two tiny wall units with nothing more than an uninspiring view of a wall of lackluster plaster.
I'm taking advantage of the current value of Hive as an opportunity to ramble while nobody's looking. But really it's not nobody who's looking. You're here. And that means a lot. I'll still come here to play no matter what the earnings.
In looking through old files and getting set up for this "Wheels and Wings" book (working title), I came across some flyers I'd made for a band I used to be in. Sparked some memories around a life before great personal growth.
Back then I had a big body and even bigger hair. Nothing wrong with either aside from the sad truth that I was hiding in them. Safe in them. Stuck in them, really. I would sing my heart out on stage, then step off that stage and become invisible. When I was in my early 20s I played sax in an otherwise all-male latin rock band. When I stepped off that stage I was swarmed sometimes, other times invisible. Had big hair back then, too, but my body was a little smaller. It wasn't solely about physical appearance, though. The physical appearance was how I identified the permission I gave myself to be seen, based upon the permission I received from those whose opinions I relied upon to create my sense of self. As time wore on and I got sicker, I hid deeper inside my body.
All fucked up shit, to sum it up eloquently.
This was my favorite song we recorded. I did the artwork for the album. Still in touch with the first bass player but everyone else, not really. (Don't leave any comments on the account because I'm not in control of it.)
I miss performing and I miss being in a band. I'd join/start one again if I had the time, but right now I'm prioritizing other things, like crow stuff and writing and adventures. I'm headed to San Diego for the week of Thanksgiving. My cousin wants to go to karaoke. I can pretend I'm in a band then. Practice with the whole not-being-invisible-anymore thing. See me, world! See me!
It's a funny thing, being seen. Overwhelming in some ways. Exciting in others. It's a very vulnerable experience, but being vulnerable no longer feels like a weakness.
It's not just about the outside world seeing me, either, but seeing myself. Acknowledging and even embracing simple things about my identity, like being in the 1% of the human population when it comes to liking single ply toilet paper.
It's scary, too. Being seen, particularly by men. It's been a long time. I'm learning to accept it as flattery rather than a threat, now that I know I am strong enough to say "back the fuck off" (politely or otherwise) when shit gets uncomfortable. Back in the day, I dunno. There was a lot of saying yes when I should have been saying no. A lot of throwing myself into situations based on a perception of what others thought was good for me. A lot of shoulding and a deep fear of the consequences of hurting feelings. I wound up covered in shit should and hurting the feelings of the most important person in my life: Me.
The damage wasn't irreparable, but it was deep. I won't share those experiences here. I'll put them in the book, though. And don't believe for one second that it won't be painful as hell to write about. But that's where growth comes from.
L-R: Lod, Biggie, Junior, as I write this.
All pictures and words copyright Anna Horvitz (me) and cannot be used without my consent.
