Secrets

Make it a soft place to land

Daiquiri (2018) by Julio Larraz

Babies make great secret keepers. Babies keep everything close to their chest. Naturally, the reason for this is because babies can’t talk. Another reason is because babies are…..babies. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for toddlers. Unfortunately I can't trust my toddler as far as I can throw him. Toddlers wrestle with the devil everyday and lose, because they are made up of more devilish parts than angelic. Don’t be like a toddler and air out people's business. Be a good secret keeper. 

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Sit directly in front of them. Unclench your hands. Wipe your sweaty palms against your lap. Squeeze your buttcheeks together so you sit up straight. Watch them listlessly pick over the mesclun in their salad. Don't lose eye contact (this is the most important step). Keep your chest open, show them you’re ready to expand your body to absorb their words.

Watch their eyes gloss over. Watch them pause as soon as their voice starts to break. Don’t fill the silence with your voice, sit with the quiet. Soften your eyes, think of this as a sacred ritual. It becomes clear to you not many people know about this, that maybe you’re even the first. Over the years the secret holder has amounted to a heavy head; congested with shame and embarrassment and unworthiness. Their bodies have collected their memories and their memories are what keep them in contempt of themselves. This is not a release for them, but a chance at something. 

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Apparently by the time a baby is 12 months old they are supposed to already be saying 3-5 words. By 18 months, 10 words. By 24 months, 50+ words. Judging by this pace of progress, babies can make great secret-keepers for a good amount of time. Moreover, it feels as if babies think everything that comes out of your mouth is a joke. I tell my baby my biggest secrets: motherhood is way too difficult for my liking, I don’t feel worthy enough to pursue an MFA, and I wish the world was a softer place to land. 

It’s as if, by disclosing my private thoughts, I’m actually saying: These thoughts aren’t welcome, and are not helpful to me. I don’t want it. I’m sending it over to you. Please send it back in the most healed and loving form. Please be gentle with my darkness.

Goddamn the world is so hard. Goddamn there is so much sad shit that happens to people. Don’t keep all that sad shit so close to your chest. Let’s get to the sad parts, the things that conflate your reality, the things that make you believe you're not supposed to be the most creative, successful, lovable artist to ever make a soft landing on Earth for other people to rest their shameful, fragile, sensitive brains.

Secrets are a transfer of hope. It’s easy to transfer your fears and your shames onto a baby. Maybe my baby sees things for their truth and not the fears that lay dormant in me. Babies won’t project ignorance. Babies are safe. Maybe they are young enough to still believe that there is freedom in language, in the ritual of release. Maybe they just don’t know any better because they've only been alive for a handful of months. But adults are grown, and we seldomly make good secret keepers. 

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Take a deep breath if you need to, there’s endurance in this. Remember to tenderize your harsh, rigid frame of mind. Take a sip of your lukewarm IPA. Allow yourself to understand that there is suffering in the world and it's everyone's responsibility to absorb some of it from time to time. Don't romanticize this.

Resist the urge to take your puny little needle and thread and sew this person back up to a joyful, pleasant thing. If you had a brain you’d see this secret is their first, very grand attempt towards something joyful. So keep your eyes on them as their words pour out all over you. There’s courage in the room.

As you sit, face to face, remember there is little-to-no difference between you. We both punch our own face in everyday as a way to appear like we belong to the world. We are both so cowardly and so brave. We are both so unaware of the way shame sets us free. We are both sitting in front of each other in an attempt to find something. We are both the same in this life because we have everything and nothing at all. We are all in exact equivalence of each other. Keep their secret, and send it back in a form of healing.

Not keeping a secret is dangerous - it puts your soul in mortal danger. Your soul will be in deep scandal in the afterlife. I think If you’re a person who doesn’t keep secrets, you’ll come back in the next life as a chair. You’ll be sat-on all day by people who can’t sit still, scraping and dragging their legs all over your surface. You’ll be gasping for breath. You’ll wish you kept that secret.

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The way I hold my baby, face to face, skin to skin, hand to head, I talk to him as if he’s my most trusted advisor. I feel him showering me with his mercy. He’s a soft place to land.

The way we think our secrets are our identities. The way it consumes us and holds us in contempt of our own lives - it makes my stomach turn.