On the Shore

            I don’t think people understand the power of words—the impact that words can have on a life. There are so many people in this generation that strive for complete authenticity and yearn to go “deeper” with everybody they meet. There are pictures that say things like: “Instead of asking this, ask this instead.” And on one of these lists, instead of asking somebody about their family, it says to ask about what one usually gets from the ice cream truck.

            What people don’t understand is the importance of these “don’t ask this” questions. We despise small talk because we want to go deeper but we forget that the shore leads to the ocean. We forget that the mundane, every day, shallow questions are also so necessary to life.

On How Life Relates to a Cage

                From the moment we are conceived, we are encased. The womb is like a nest—it keeps us safe as we grow and become. But there is nowhere that we can go but within the womb. We are trapped. Yet it is a good sort of trapped. Like when you haven’t seen a best friend who’s really touchy for a long time and when you do, they won’t let go. You are held within a warm embrace that is perhaps a bit uncomfortable, but you know you can relax and still be protected. And although this is wonderful, there is still an itch trembling along your body to be free and move and let the wind ripple through your hair once again.

                It is like this in the womb. A baby is fed, protected, and can grow and be nurtured for nine months. It’s as if they’re suspended in space, connected by a single lifeline, and just waiting for the day they will land. The cares of the world pass them by. But this isn’t enough. They must feel freedom soon. So they begin kicking—yearning for a way to breathe air and feel the grass and see their mother’s face.