Folding Paper

Before, I was baking bread. Drawing intention and focus in to process frustration and helplessness over being grounded and trapped in Covid19. 

Then George Floyd was murdered and I was overwhelmed with a new set of emotions. I didnt know what to do, but I knew asking my Black friends how I could help was not the way to go. They didnt break the system - it sure as hell isnt their responsibility to educate me on how to fix it! So I read. I listened. I started to address how I felt in my own safe spaces. 

I made the mistake of telling D that I was mulling over how to best use my white privilege to amplify BIPOC's voices that are often ignored. He scoffed. Literally. "White privilege? That doesnt really exist!" Says the white man who grew up in an affluent family and neighborhood. My jaw dropped. I was shocked. He rolled his eyes at me and dismissed the conversation. 

I should have said something, but in the moment my heart was paralyzed with overwhelming sadness. In that moment I realized that I barely even knew this man anymore, and I was quickly realizing that I no longer wanted to know him. I dont want him pulling the wool of white privilege, of white supremacy, over my childrens eyes. I was literally stupefied. 

I had been wrestling with this internally when my mother asked me if I wanted to help my sister fold origami cranes for "some project the kids are working on." Sure. I can fold cranes. 

But then I saw my sisters post on fb - her heart and soul poured out publicly about the peace crane project that SHE was spearheading. She wrote with raw vulnerability, passion, and with such hope that it was infectious. Its not about folding paper, it's about the meditation and release of creation - of finding peace and healing in the act. I was moved. 

In my excitement, I shared my sisters words and vision with D.  He said nothing. Absolutely nothing. So I stopped sharing my thoughts. 

Last night I reached my boiling point. I went over to J's and vented everything I had been feeling. I ranged. I sobbed. I let everything out in a blubbery, snotty, blurry mess... and he just held my hand. He held me after and just let me cry. I felt so much better. I shared my sisters project with him and he listened. Asked a few questions. Found the concept interesting. 

Today I started folding cranes. I invited the kids to join me. I folded every piece of origami paper I had. The kids excitedly told their father that they had folded origami cranes today. "Oh." Was all he said. 

Oh.

I mentioned to J only that I had started folding cranes. Nothing of the other interaction. "You should bring some paper over. Show me how."

Show me how.

I already knew this man was "my people." My Abby Wambach. Someone who knows me, sees me, understands me. The simple act of expressing interest made me burst into tears. He understands that I have been moved by this project, and he wants me to share it with him. 

So now I fold paper. 

I fold paper and nurture healing and growth and vulnerability and learning with the people I love.