Little Mai Sunshine: Map of Fear
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Sunday, December 24, 2017

Map of Fear


Inherently, lost is the opposite of found. We associate found as the aspect of being full and comprehensive, therefore, lost is reflective of what is incomplete and fragmented--shards of the broken we meticulously sweep away. 

But it's in the moments of when I'm forcibly lost, coherently confused, that I find my truest need of lucidity. When I'm stripped of barren piles and burdened layers, I am left with nothing but basked clarity and compelled to face the nude reality. I can finally see what is innately before me and address the callings of my permanence. My growth. My goals. My community. My nature. All of these so frequently neglected when I would just blanket these certainties under the impulsivity of short instances chasing happinesses. I would cast them beneath shadows to make room for more light and tell myself that they will dispel on their own. But maybe then, lost is not so much an unfortunate thing as it is a necessary thing. Maybe it is the unapologetic pull at our cores to listen to the pits of our guts, however ugly and foreign it may be. Yet we humans are naturally afraid of the uncomfortable and the uncertainty, so lay down the truth before us and we quiver in the wake of deep insecurities and shrivel against the cold of triggered emotions. Tell us we're lost and we will panic in alien landscape, run to the nearest shelter, frantically search for alternate routes, and vow to never stray from the only path we can comprehend. Because it is our human condition to find comfort in the found and familiar. But what if we allowed ourselves to be consumed with the strangeness? What if we absorbed every unfamiliar moment and swallowed them willingly and lovingly? What if our fear of being lost is simply a manifestation of our darkest thoughts projected onto untouched territory because we'd rather blame the unknown than bruise our meticulous frameworks? Then it isn't feeling lost that we're afraid of--it's the fear of when it pulls the trigger and pokes at things we'd rather depress than address. It's the fear of being lost in our own minds and within ourselves where we can't escape from.

I've encountered a lot of recent events where I was left feeling delicately lost but actually felt comfort in the exotic surroundings. I learned that I found clearer truths that ensure a stronger personal foundation for my future growth. As uncomfortable and stressful as the process may have brought upon its presence, I actually preferred being brutally honest with myself. I wanted to be ruthlessly broken and aggressively crumbled because it meant I could piece myself back together in newer and better ways. And in order to do so, I'd have to fall into an ambiguous and risky vastness, but instead of fearing the inevitable crash, I'd imagine touching new ground, finding a different kind of cushion to catch my worries and envelope my anxieties, that may be worth the fall after all. A softer landing than I had anticipated. An exciting discovery I can personally claim. 


Photography by Peggy Chi

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Sunday, December 24, 2017

Map of Fear


Inherently, lost is the opposite of found. We associate found as the aspect of being full and comprehensive, therefore, lost is reflective of what is incomplete and fragmented--shards of the broken we meticulously sweep away. 

But it's in the moments of when I'm forcibly lost, coherently confused, that I find my truest need of lucidity. When I'm stripped of barren piles and burdened layers, I am left with nothing but basked clarity and compelled to face the nude reality. I can finally see what is innately before me and address the callings of my permanence. My growth. My goals. My community. My nature. All of these so frequently neglected when I would just blanket these certainties under the impulsivity of short instances chasing happinesses. I would cast them beneath shadows to make room for more light and tell myself that they will dispel on their own. But maybe then, lost is not so much an unfortunate thing as it is a necessary thing. Maybe it is the unapologetic pull at our cores to listen to the pits of our guts, however ugly and foreign it may be. Yet we humans are naturally afraid of the uncomfortable and the uncertainty, so lay down the truth before us and we quiver in the wake of deep insecurities and shrivel against the cold of triggered emotions. Tell us we're lost and we will panic in alien landscape, run to the nearest shelter, frantically search for alternate routes, and vow to never stray from the only path we can comprehend. Because it is our human condition to find comfort in the found and familiar. But what if we allowed ourselves to be consumed with the strangeness? What if we absorbed every unfamiliar moment and swallowed them willingly and lovingly? What if our fear of being lost is simply a manifestation of our darkest thoughts projected onto untouched territory because we'd rather blame the unknown than bruise our meticulous frameworks? Then it isn't feeling lost that we're afraid of--it's the fear of when it pulls the trigger and pokes at things we'd rather depress than address. It's the fear of being lost in our own minds and within ourselves where we can't escape from.

I've encountered a lot of recent events where I was left feeling delicately lost but actually felt comfort in the exotic surroundings. I learned that I found clearer truths that ensure a stronger personal foundation for my future growth. As uncomfortable and stressful as the process may have brought upon its presence, I actually preferred being brutally honest with myself. I wanted to be ruthlessly broken and aggressively crumbled because it meant I could piece myself back together in newer and better ways. And in order to do so, I'd have to fall into an ambiguous and risky vastness, but instead of fearing the inevitable crash, I'd imagine touching new ground, finding a different kind of cushion to catch my worries and envelope my anxieties, that may be worth the fall after all. A softer landing than I had anticipated. An exciting discovery I can personally claim. 


Photography by Peggy Chi

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