Por Jessica G Ferrer
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 Leaning in toward her reflection, she made an attempt to pull her out of the spiral she’d been under. Chaos was the narrative living in her mind. Inside there was no relief. She searched outward, but all she could hear was a stranger’s monologue, “what you need…” She didn't want to just be heard, she wanted to be helped, but help wasn’t helping. It was merely a finger pointing in another direction. One she’d already ran, walked, crawled. She looked up and wondered what she was to do next. A crush for those around her would be her relief. Avoidant, she sat still, eyes closed and hopeless. She waited. By Jessica G Ferrer WARNING. Leer con cuidado y discreción. Aquí hablo sobre la oscuridad de la depresión. 
por Jessica G Ferrer 
image by Abimael Linares
As I prayed near my window and looked up I noticed the form of the clouds. The sheer brightness that allowed me to look. The unmeasured and yet perfect shape that held them up in place. What a beautiful thing. The clouds above me. I can see. It sparked a memory from my childhood. I remembered laying flat with my back against the cemented driveway where my parents rented a home. There was not a worry in my mind. I remember the innocence, the freedom in my body as gravity pulled me naturally. I was grounded. The reason so many practice yoga for, I did without intention. A smile was simple, honest, and tranquil. The clouds were moving or was it me? I'd close my eyes and feel the shifting of the clouds. I'd open them and there they were right there with me. Their perfect unmeasured shape. Their brightness and aero blue skies right behind them and in between. The clouds haven't changed or have they? They’re still here, with me. My innocence has escaped me, but the memories haven’t. It’s good to remember the simple times. There’s much to learn from innocence. By Jessica G Ferrer  image by Abimael Linares As I elevate in my growth, mishaps occur, some not within my control. Whether or not they are, like a wave approaching shallow water, I feel defeat. Just like the waves break at shore, I do too. A broken wave returns to its natural form. It descends and again raises into a wave, sometimes larger than the last. It settles. It exists. The wave lives in reaction to its circumstance. I’m very much like a wave changing all hours of the day, all days of the week, all weeks of the year. by Jessica G Ferrer I had a late start that morning. My body nor my mind wanted to wake up. For fear of the alarm not ringing again, I found the will to unglue my eyes slowly and the strength to peel my upper back from the bed vertebrae by vertebrae. I wiggled my toes, moved my feet, and slid them off to my bedside. I stretched my legs until my feet found their slippers and with great slug, I pushed my hands against the bed and stood up. I took a deep breath and quickly dressed the bed. I rushed my body into my workout clothes and hurried to the bathroom. Having brushed my teeth, I set my coffee and had my morning prayer.  image by Abimael Linares
Following a debate on whether I would continue the checklist or call it a day, my distress needed therapy, so I checked the next box. I vacuumed. I cooked. I cleaned the kitchen. I cleaned the bathroom. I watered the plants. As I was watering the plants, I realized how out of touch I was at that moment. As the water sprinkled out of the watering can, I noticed how the water met the soil, how the pot felt in my hand, how I hadn’t been present a moment since I began rushing through my list. The thought of life came to me. And I questioned, had I fallen into a trap and suddenly realized it? Was this it, getting through the day’s checklist, going to bed, and starting all over again? Was life just a big checklist? I’d been in constant hurry. If the finish line is my last breath, why am I racing toward it? by Jessica G Ferrer
In this journey of mine, as an artist, I find myself falling more in love with the complexities of the human condition. There is so much pain, misunderstanding, joy and sadness, ease, play, unawareness, awareness, all so compelling. An observer, I see so many stories. Some are nearly impossible to decipher, but my mind tells them anyway. All of us. While we share moments, we live our lives separately. Our thoughts can be shared, but many we choose to hold deeply because they are ours. We cross each other on the streets without a glance. We share the commonality that we are part of the same race. We live in the same world. And yet we are strangers to each other.
It’s quite perplexing how close and distant we are from one another. How groups create the division in which we settle into without knowing the other end or even becoming aware of the in between.
written by Jessica G Ferrer |
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