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Sunday Harvest. October 9, 2022
Writing, and the exploration of it as a study and practice, has given me language that speaking never could. Writing is much like conversation, but instead of an exchange with someone else, it is an exchange with myselves. And, I say selves, plural, because something that I have come to understand is that at any given time there are multiple facets of me present. For example, as of late, the 20 something and 5 year old me have been very present. The 5 year old is present in extatic wonder, all joy and curiosity, openness, and the sort of naivete that works in her favor because she doesn't know what to fear and so, she is fearless.
The 20-something has fallen a few times and though she is still standing firm and steadily walking her path, she is fully aware of her fears and is often doubtful, hesitant and unsure, even as she is sure, because she fears falling, and failing, again.
And then, there is me, the meeting place of she, her, and me…
Often, it is in the car while driving, or even sitting, parked and still, that I will experience sensations that I don't have words for, and so I will go in search of them. Last Sunday, while driving home from some much needed quality time with a close friend, whom I hadn't seen in a while, I thought about all the pieces and parts of me. I, ẸniafẹBiafẹ am the daughter of Judy and Idowu, am also know as Isis and a plethora of other nicknames, am also known as Isis, the Account Director (job title), am also known as Eni the little sister, auntie, friend, and also writer, sometimes poet, and channel for All Her Words. Being all these many parts in this one piece, this one body, has often left me in states of confusion and endlessly trying to find, or create, synergy between who I am, what I do, and the roles I play. And still, who and what I am becoming. I shared said feelings with this close friend, and she said,
"So here's the thing, you can exist without some them (roles, titles) but they cannot exist without you."
And, it was this statement that led to me googling, while sitting in the car, parked outside of the house, "what is the place where bodies of water meet?"
After scrolling a bit, the word estuary found me. And now, I understand that I am the place where my bodies - the titles, the roles, the names - meet.
I am the estuary. — ẹniafẹ isis