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  • I'm scared.
    It was an exercise we did in an acting class. He led, I followed.
    "I'm scared," I say.
    "I'm scared," he says. His eyes shift more each moment and then I start to believe him.
    "I'm scared," I say again, this time differently. I don't know I'm saying it differently because I don't intend to change.

    We kept breathing with each other, kept looking at another. I'm uncomfortable because he's a stranger and I'm not sure I even like him. Whatever arises is fresh, I tell myself. Let it pass. Don't try to feel anything. Don't force it.

    As a kid, I was curious and scared as I 'd scurry back into the corners of our attic. We called it the peak, because it was a small area that narrowed where the roof met. I'd crawl back there and sometimes notice a nail sticking up. I was always afraid that I'd end up seeing a ghost, but in the stale heat my curiosity was stronger.

    Today in Brooklyn I find an attic in an art museum. We duck inside, myself and others. There's a mirror waiting to be looked into. There's a chance opportunity to look and see.

    Mirrors are everywhere.

    In a dream journaling workshop, a women with a PhD tells me that every person, every event, in a dream is a reflection of yourself - it actually is you. The woman with purple hair at the dinner table isn't another woman, it's you. She illustrates your desire to be bolder. Then, it makes me wonder. Perhaps the waking life is this way too.

    I'm drawn to others that are similar, those that are flawed in similar ways. Maybe because I can relate to them, but also maybe because deep down I see myself in them and in telling them it will be okay, I'm really just trying to tell myself that.

    All relationships, everything we ever see, is perhaps only a mirror.
    Have you checked in with humanity today?
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