Episode 16: What We Hide
Hi everyone, I hope you’re doing as well as you can be this week. This week’s poem and episode explore the idea that living is a sort of contronym—a word with two opposite meanings. It’s not a perfect contronym, but living your best life is considered both voluptuous and by nature, hidden, since “the best life” is free of the mucky and murky parts of being people. Much of what we attempt to hide—to appear to be living perfectly or fully—is deemed impolite and/or embarrassing. This poem and episode rips off the bandaid of a few good examples of these (which in truth, make us more human. It’s amusing how desperately we try to conceal bodily functions so deeply out of our control).
I’ll share it with you now:
Contronyms are words with
two opposite meanings:
transparent means both
invisible & obvious.
Life is to be
vibrantly alive
and unveiled—open
& transparent—
with & to each other
& the world.
And life is to hide
at the same time.
To live & be considered
living (vibrantly alive, unveiled,
open & transparent
with & to each other
& the world),
we must be uncomfortable:
completely
cover up
scars with concealer;
pimples with foundation (or pops—
frantically scrubbed from the mirror);
and keep walking with burst blisters
branded by new bold, modish boots.
Obscure period stains with blazers
that drape beneath butts;
cramps with another, more
admissible sickness; and
sweat stains with jackets
that only box in dampness.
Where to put the sneeze
that made it to a shirtsleeve
instead of a tissue; a toot that
either smells or sirens; and a #2
that pushes & plops in
a public bathroom?
We are bodies of swampland—
moist with mineral soil & poor
drainage of brackish fluids
(blood, discharge, tears, sweat,
pus, and mucus). We’re damp
with gas-soaked air, microbial
matter, and our own microbiome
of saturated, salty vegetation.
Our lives are not smeared
by scars, pimples, blisters,
periods, cramps, sweat stains,
sneezes, farts, or poops.
They’re only impolite & embarrassing
because we decided they
are at some point long past.
But these are life. And
perhaps our souls or minds are that
thick, soft fog of ripe water
droplets suspended in the air.
Or, as the frozen lake-like lagoon
begins its March melt, our souls
are the ice crystals—shards of the swamp’s
frayed bedsheet at the edges
of wet sandy shore—
tinkling & twinkling together to make music,
welcoming the rebirth of vivacious life beneath
the toy waves and their frosty icing.
So the next time you see
someone seemingly seamless,
imagine how they’ve 100%
popped their pimples,
masked their scars,
suffered through blisters,
perhaps protected periods,
cloaked their cramps,
disguised sweat stains,
sneezed big boogers,
blamed farts on someone else,
and tried to camouflage the
rank & ripple of their
crap in a public toilet…
You’re good. It’s okay. Believe me.
Breathe the words in. What do they make you feel or think? How did they connect with your senses? What colours or symbols did you notice? What meaning did you draw? Metaphors? Interpretations? Clarity? Messages?
