The Beautiful Chaos of 2022
There’s something joyfully poetic about capturing life on film. For those who know me well, that shouldn’t come at all as a surprise. I tend to find joy and/or poetry in the most mundane of things. I can’t seem to help it. Have you seen the way the sun glistens off of an untouched canvas of snow? Have you felt the caress of a gentle breeze on a warm summer day? Have you seen the beautifully unraveled look in someone’s eyes as they fall in love? How could I not want to bear witness to the beauty of this fascinating thing we call living? And, each of these rectangles of film captures such a glorious moment of this year’s existence.
“You can mold a beautiful future for yourself. You need to stop intellectualizing and turning love into a puzzle. You need to stop accepting less than you deserve, artistically and emotionally. You can’t settle for the monastic loneliness you describe. You need to open your heart not just to your art but to the world and the people around you.”
As we rapidly approach the end of this calendar’s cycle, I, like most people, do the symbolic ritual of pausing to reflect on what the dying year has gifted me and what I hope to carry on into the next. It is not lost on me that just like nature, we go through this annual cycle of reincarnation. Each year, we move, we grow, we stretch ourselves and then the clock turns over and we hope that what we gained the year before helps moves us towards…something.
I titled this piece “The Beautiful Chaos of 2022” and it truly encapsulates this year for me. In March, I turned 32 and I wrote in an Instagram post, “I feel more of myself than I’ve ever felt before.” When I wrote that, I had no clue what was to come. Beneath my skin, I’ve felt my soul shifting and at each turn, the fit gets that much more comfortable. So much of this year’s growth has been beneath the surface.
This is the year that I’ve thrown myself into living, connecting, being. I’ve had the opportunity to celebrate life and appreciate the bitter taste of loss. I’ve found the beauty in the sorrow and the joy of it all. But, all of this may sound quite whimsical to most people. “Where is the concrete,” you may ask. On most days, my response might be “Why should it matter when the birds still call upon a new day?” But today, I will humor you.
Community has been the ties that have grounded me to this place. I’ve had the benefit of finding my people, the ones who accept and encourage me in all my weirdness. The Crew, Dinner Club, the Catz, and even the Ratz have all been such important connection points in my life. I’ve also had the pleasure of continuing to develop a couple of spaces around activities I enjoy. Both Black Women Explore (BWE) and the Coffee & Cocktails Book Club (CCBC) have thrived and were often recognized by others. I’ve presented about BWE to national thought leaders and practitioners. We (Kim and I) had an interview with Reimagining the Civic Commons and were recognized by the Loveland Group as one of their 2022 Honorees. CCBC continues to build upon my love of reading, uplifting writers of color, and building spaces where people can learn and grow together.
And yet, grief stuck to my ribs like my Granny’s dressing, as I lost another important matriarch in my family. The Universe must have known its impact on me because a few days later, I had to travel for my fellowship. The love, support, and kindness that my cohort provided me helped me breathe when I thought I had run out of air.
That trip changed my life and helped me see clearer. And as my 18-month experience with the Ashé Leaders Fellowship comes to an end, I can feel its lasting fingerprints. Being surrounded by such thoughtful, vulnerable, intelligent leaders of color from across the country has truly helped me develop my own voice and no longer apologize for taking up space.
Professionally, I’ve had the opportunity to lead in a couple of my passion areas, including equitable community development and arts education. The spotlight has never been where I naturally gravitate to, but I pushed myself to stand under its unwavering gaze. Because of that I’ve been able to facilitate workshops, moderate and sit on panels, and present my work nationally. It feels good to have built skills and find some semblance of comfort in a space that often leaves me slightly askew.
I also volunteered my time, traveled a decent amount, went on adventures, saw breathtaking views that left me in tears, read some really good (and bad) books, faced my fears, experienced a whole lot of art, created a bit of my own again (FINALLY), protested injustice, and loved so damn hard on people and they’ve loved on me back.
Therapy continues to be my lifesaver. Through all of life’s ups and downs, I’ve been lucky enough to have built a strong relationship with my therapist who gets me, or at least does her best to. Daily and weekly rituals have helped me continue to check in and be honest with myself, regulate my emotions, and show up as a full person. It isn’t perfect, but honestly, I’m not striving for perfection. I want to live and fail and get back up in this body I’ve been given.
That said, keeping her (my body) moving and active has been a major focus as I ease my way deeper into my 30’s. Cycling and hiking continue to be warm friends, but yoga and strength training have stepped up their game in the chat. Indoor bouldering is a new entrant and we’re still getting used to her, but I think we’re going to be buddies over time. I hit some milestones that I’m quite proud of. I crossed 1,000 miles in a year on my bike for the first time, was interviewed for a friend’s Gravel Badass series, and I fell in love with bikepacking. It’s been an active year and my body feels so much stronger for it. Did I mention that I threw myself down a hill skiiing? Hah!
But honestly, beautifully chaotic is the only way I can truly describe this year. And yet, I want more of this. I want more living, more loving, more views that take my breath away, more poetry (both written and experienced), more secret smiles, and big bursts of laughter. I want more moments that make me feel and connect me closer to our world, to our environment. This year hasn’t been all warm, sunny days, but the rain has been just as nourishing.
In the end, my goal for 2023 is pretty simple: Stay Weird & Be Kind.
I hope you all have a soft landing.
~ Bron
“Maybe we’re not filled
with water but with leaves, the
soft ones that make no
sound. If you listen closely,
you can almost hear
the leaves in your body fall.
Maybe nothing dies,
things just get lost. Memory
convalesces on our skin. ”
