Conditioned in hiding, not to be seen, not to be heard, not to be discovered… even though there is nothing wrong in her actions, feelings, or thoughts… and it has been like that for a long time. She feels like a groundhog, peeking out her head to check the surroundings, to find out the sign of danger, disturbance, conflict, ready to disappear under the surface.
Groundhogs hide first, under the earth, to the burrows they have made… but… when their territory is invaded, they fight fiercely… they are strong animal, just don’t want any conflict in life unless it is necessary… they are herbivores, they sleep all winter, they clean their faces after eating. Let them be them… she wishes that they don’t have to hide, wishes that they walk around the field like a lazy cat under the summer days, munching the plants they like, picking up some wildflowers and tasting them, and napping on the grass with their belly up stretching out the four limbs wide. But, they’ll hide with little hint of the observer around, into the underworld. That makes her very sad. Because she knows the feeling, the hiding… without doing anything wrong… just not to be caught, not to be eaten, not to get into trouble.
Her burrows are not in underground, but they were dug deep in her being… invisible to the others. It has been like that for a long time. The first thing she has learned when she had lost the innocence of child’s mind, she hid her thoughts and feelings not to disturb her family. And she thought that she could somehow contribute in lessening the pain and the sorrow of them, but she was wrong. As she hid under the holes more, her pain and sorrow have grown bigger and the earth over her head got heavier, and heavier, until she felt that no light came into her safe space where she buried her true feelings and thoughts. Then, she knew that she would die soon without a single ray around her. She had to learn to peek out, look around, and find a way out somehow, not to die under the weight of the dirt she has been putting over her body to hide.
Cautiously, she put her head out to see, and sometimes, to be seen. In and out of her burrow to smell the flowers and pick up the odd stones on her way around. The breeze, the sun, the sound of leaves under her feet… the clouds gathered and scattered… the scent of wet grass after a summer rain… the tiny black beetles and a ladybug.. something inside and something outside… open wide and held close… the things under the sunlight or the beam of the bright moon… sometimes she walks far from her burrows and looks back the holes that she has dug for a long time… and she thinks… maybe she is not even a groundhog after all. Then, what is she? She doesn’t know. She has hidden so long that she couldn’t recognize herself under the new light. She would find out as time passes by when her habitual hiding wears out and finds the way out to show herself to people, the people who’ll appreciate and cherish her presence under any light that would illuminate her being, as she is and as she should be.
<October 2nd, 2019>