Posted on September 30, 2011
I am American, English, Jewish, Cherokee, Certain, Conflicted, Fearful, Confident, Lazy & a Workaholic Perfectionist. I am a gypsy but have had the same address for 2007.5 days. I am curious, open-minded and compassionate but will cut you off instantly when emotionally injured. I like to think of myself as fun loving and easy going. This makes people that know me laugh.
I hit a milestone birthday this year. For whatever reason it’s got me thinking about how I arrived at this moment and place with all the “me’s” that make up me. I am also wondering about how and why one employs different “me’s” instead of coming to everything whole. I could probably just dig out my freshman Psych text – I’m sure this is basic stuff, but, anyway I am getting off track. I am curious about these things, but this not really what I want to think about right now.
What I want to explore is the beauty and courage of what it might look and feel like to bring all the bits together and approach situations and people whole – like young children do. Sure – you risk social alienation – but maybe that’s a worthwhile price to pay. Hmm. It doesn’t actually sound so good. But living splintered doesn’t either.
So, to amalgamate is 1. “To combine into a unified or integrated whole; unite. 2. To mix or alloy (a metal) with mercury.” (The Free Dictionary). To come together – Yes! As an aside, that mercury part is interesting.
[When I think of mercury I think of mornings when I wanted to get out of going to school and would touch the end of the mercury thermometer to the lightbulb that was creating the sweats inches from my face. Mercurial comes to mind too, of course:
In the coming year, I am diving in head first – going in deep – to have a look at the imperfect and broken and horrid and sublime and find acceptance of the whole – The Amalgamated Me. To at least make peace with the hideous and celebrate the sweet and see the beauty of what’s really there.
A rose is the visible result of an infinitude of complicated goings on in the bosom of the earth and in the air above, and similarly a work of art is the product of strange activities in the human mind.
– Clive Bell