Stay, Baby

I spent the entire month of March cupping tears in my palms and collecting stories in this little heart of mine. I have reached the conclusion that the only thing more difficult than fitting into an old pair of jeans is, knowing people’s darkness and still choosing to sit in it.I am not much of a stayer. When I sit for too long, clock hands move faster and my food gets cold. It is as though I was made to run- from place to place carrying with me bus tickets and luggage tags and a Polaroid of fading memories.Too often we mistaken people for places.We highlight them in tiny circles on a map and tour their best sites. We walk the corridors that are tiled in perfect patterns and throw luck coins in the fountains that flow to our rhythm. And when we get bored, we pack our bags and look for another adventure, another fountain, another life.It has a cooler name in Psychology: The Primacy Effect: How excited we are when we meet new people or make new friends, how eager we are to know and hear all the stories up their sleeves. And as quickly as it begun, we begin to draw back; we pay less attention. Sometimes because we assume we know all there is to know about that human. Other times, I think, it’s because we get tired of hearing their story. We get scared about the chapters with the unusual themes. If we’re not scared, we are mortified or disgusted or disappointed. Whatever it is that we feel, there seem to be a lot more reasons to leave than stay.Now I am not saying we should play golf with people who kill at night and teach Literature in the daytime.I am only saying we all have a little bit of darkness inside of us. It could be anything- an addiction, a disorder, depression, a terrible past; it could be anything at all. We all have a little bit of darkness.And if anyone is ever brave enough to let you in on their darkness, please, please choose to stay.Sometimes we become so intent on chasing people’s light that too often we do not realize it is merely a glow of burning wood; aching souls, piling ashes.Truth is, there is so very little truth in the light now. Makeups cover up swollen eyes and dried tears, sleeves and overalls hide all the scars and wounds and social media feeds are blowing up with happy moments and poetic captions.But there is more life beyond this fading light. There’s the pain and anger and confusion that we don’t see because we are blinded by this shine; this seemingly overflowing sparkle.And there is something terribly wrong with brushing wet paint over rusting boards. It will wash off; it always does.If we were all a little open to being keepers of rust, there will be little drive to pretend to be anything else but rust.Let's teach ourselves to be slow to run after glitter. Let us teach ourselves to see, to listen, and to stay. Without the slightest hint of judgement, let’s choose to stay and remind them that they are not alone in their darkness.And while we gather their brokenness and ashes in our scarred palms, we will see too, that sometimes we anoint best the oils we didn't know we had- because there are no chances of ever running out.Because, Sweet One, people are not places. They are not favourite restaurants or random tourist sites. We cannot walk through them like public doorways or treasure hunts. There are no shortcut arrows shooting through their arteries and valves.We are unfolding stories of mass and substance. We are full blooded, tough skinned, cracked hearts and yet still, human. And we can wear all the thick jackets we own to cover up the dirt but it still will not do because nothing says it better than acceptance and real warmth.So stay, baby. Stay in the light and sit in their darkness. And be a breathing keeper of their tainted hearts.