The Other Day at the Park

today I was writing and painting by the lake which, for anyone but me, would be a serene experience, but since it was me I found myself in a shame spiral. Between brush strokes, I took moral inventory of my shortcoming. The waves lapping at the shore punctuating my thoughts. perhaps it was due to the jumping spider and her egg sac that I accidentally dislodged when I opened my mailbox earlier. how how how does one exist in a way that doesn't harm others? I sat, lamenting the ways I could do better, be better, close every gap between my ethos and practice, find my way closer to moral perfection, when all of a sudden I heard a voice behind me say "excuse me?"

I turned, broken from my work to see two young men behind me, bibles clutched to their chests. "could we share the word of Jesus Christ with you?"

I also have found myself trying to be more polite these days. In stores, at the gas station, sitting in the park with my rainbow swim trunks as I was then. Back on T for a few months now, I get "sir'd" and feel like I'm getting away with something. Sometimes I'll see a flicker of recognition, or perhaps nervousness, flash across someone's face when I turn to face them and they see my chest, my mask, who knows, and they wonder if perhaps they were impolite in their assessment of my gender, or if perhaps they are wondering if they should be more impolite to the leftist dyke in a mask now that they think what they're looking at is a leftist dyke in a mask. In general, I always try to be polite to missionaries because I know part of their indoctrination is the idea that the world outside of their Christian circles will be cruel towards them.

I said what I usually do to politely decline an offer - "I'm all good, but you have a great day!" before turning back to the work in front of me. They didn't reply. Just kept walking.

I had never actually sat with the words "I'm all good" - it's just something people say, like "what's up?" without question why up? What's in the sky? Or what's up as opposed to what's down? Is the implication that one should share something positive?

Similarly, I'm all good left an aftertaste of irony on my tongue. To go from "I'm a piece of shit and here are all the reasons why" to "I'm perfect, actually" within seconds, at a moment in which I might find myself susceptible to the desire to be handed a roadmap to being good.

maybe what I want is a shame free existence, which I think might be different from a shame filled existence

I tried the words out again, repeating them to myself in my head: I'm all good, I'm all good, I'm all good.

I want to believe in those words with the same conviction with which you believe in your god.