I'm alone in my car
I'm alone pushing my grocery cart
I'm alone at my desk with three screens and a carefully chosen mug
I want to feel connection in my body my bones my biology
I want to feel a thousand silken filaments shoot from my cells across time, forward and back
Across space and transpecies
To my ancestors, my great grandchildren, paramecium, orca, that tree, your pet dog
I want to float with you all on the surface of a great gyre,
Abrading, clumping, dissolving descending to pop back up and roil on the surface
Rising, falling and whirling in some disorganized unison
So why are my curtains drawn so tight?
Why do I have one skin?
Why is my view so narrow?
I see how we draw our family trees in neat lines or tidy circles
My design always starts with me at the center and lines stretching to past and future
I think of you all and imagine a weave, a fabric of infinite dimension iridescent and glittering
But when I enter my body and call upon that same map of connection,
I'm not shown an orderly creation
No intricate weave
It feels violent
Millions churning, thundering and pounding
I can't see a shoreline
I can only be in this tumble, lifted to free fall over and over
I don't know how long it will last
If this is what's true, if connection isn't tidy
Then I'm not interested in appreciation
I don't want to collect those tokens, though they feel nice in the hand
But I want to bleed with you, burn with you, wash your body, brush your hair