Sorry, you're not invited to my birthday

Actually not sorry

last sunset of year 35

I decided to invite only new friends. That is, people that I’ve only come to know in the last few months in the dance community and who all live in the Deep South. Well, I did invite one old friend who happens to also dance and lives here (@Sarah, I nearly uninvited you — no jokes).

Ah, the caveat. Because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s’ feelings. And I want to make sure that I’m consistent and congruent, because then you can’t turn around and accuse me or judge me. I must make sure that I’ve covered all my bases.

Look, this is all on me. I realise I’ve been leaking energy. I’m using the term in the context of mental-emotional activity. I haven’t been good at managing mine, often letting what others think over-ride what I really want. I’ve also been afraid of hurting your feelings. Afraid that if I don’t make the effort to spend time with you, that you’ll take it personally and write me off. Maybe you feel like I’m doing that with you? Maybe I am?

More caveating…

Even though I may like you as a person, it’s difficult to find time to spend with you. Both things can be true. There’s simply not enough hours in a day / week / month year to sustain all my relationships to the level of depth that I previously have. I cherish what we had, and who knows how life might bring our paths closer together in the future?

I’m grateful for the ones who have known me forever, and still hang around. This despite the fact I often feel like they don’t really know me. A sadness rises in my chest, a feeling that I still don’t fully belong. That my journeys of spiritual exploration feel like foreign territory, and that I bring back tales from exotic lands of spirits and demons that exist only in fairytales.

When they ask, “how are you?” it lands as a loaded question. I feel like the answer is inevitably “there’s a lot going on”. Although my new favourite quote is “I contain multitudes” (from Walt Whitman)

Planning birthday gatherings has always filled me with anxiety. A few years ago, I felt like I had to invite all my then girlfriend’s friends, even though I didn’t connect well with some of them; even though some of them were cold to me from the get-go. But it was the right thing to do. Now they’re gone; pages in a chapter that I won’t revisit.

It feels like every few years there is a major shift in my life. This last year it has been dancing and contact improvisation, and all the nuance of relating in these spaces that I have been exposed to. Many new people have been written into this short chapter, and I decided to keep things simple for tonight, rather than wonder how my old and new friends would relate (even though I know full well that it is not my responsibility to manage that, to manage others happiness —one day I’ll be grounded enough to let those worries slide off me)

I’ve realised that these tales are an expression of mind. That there’s this disembodied problem solving machine that just wants to be happy, and is fixated on the perfect conditions to give me that happiness. Today is my actual birthday, and I didn’t want to add any calculations to this mind today, as I continue the process of making friends with it. Writing this now, I also don’t want to spend the whole day crafting language to feel understood and not hurt anyone’s feelings. It is inevitable. But maybe I’m not actually talking to you?

So I zoom out, and take the perspective of the witness that sees this all unfolding. And I say to myself, “happy birthday Dario”. Don’t worry about inviting me. I am always with you.