December 28th, 2007
Ragdoll
When you don’t know who you are, you make something up. Who doesn’t have some patched over gap? Avatars, profiles, bios, quotes; it is easy to be nothing but patches.
Transcriptorial: She made herself: / fabric scraps, hair discards / whispers of who she wanted to be.
im full of patches. but over time i have decided which ones i truly am and the ones i was just trying to be.
For me it’s an ongoing process.
I’m perfectly happy being nothing but patches. It means I don’t have to figure out what’s being patched.
Well, maybe not perfectly.
What is the point of that knowledge anyway?
I believe it to be a paradox, as knowledge of what you are is a part of what you are, and basic principles of physics applied to this tell me that this recursive process will not converge.
A quilt is nothing more than a series of patches sewn together. I am constantly taking the ideas and qualities of those around me that I find great, and integrating them into myself. I am willing to accept the flaws in my original design and fit patches to mend it accordingly. I know that my creation of ideas and experiences will never be perfect; that I will sometimes adopt false ideals. That’s the beauty of a patch, though. It’s as easy to remove, and replace, as it is to attach.
Can you really say that in regard to any experience, however?
What about scars? How many patches would you fit over a scar to stop it from hurting every time you bump against something?
I don’t patch my scars. Scars are a way of reminding us of past mistakes. Physical scars remind us of how we were hurt by others and help us to avoid such pain again. Emotional scars are the same way.
Everyone should learn to make themselves. For a long time, over 30 years, I allowed others to make and mould me with their opinions, their approval or disapproval, their ideas. When asked to describe how I saw myself, I was shaken: the image I got was of a mirror reflecting nothing but empty sky and wisps of cloud.
Then I learned that others do not change for me, in spite of my opinions, ideas, and approval/disapproval. And I survive it.
So I went and did likewise.
Life is good.
I also learned to quilt. I prefer making quilts of what is to hand rather than going out and buying fabric to fit a pattern. It’s more of an adventure this way.