There was a midsummer night’s party in a cathedral and I danced and drank until after Cinderella left, and found myself in the garden with a friend. I couldn’t quite see him in the backlight. He was smoking and I was cold. We spoke of lists of books and films and music that we would give our future lovers for them to understand us. The work I identified was children’s classics, high canon, popular sci-fi and millennial romance. All capture something I think of as life, have shaped me into who I am and explain me. In realising the list meant to understand me, I realised what they have in common, and understood something about myself.
They are all stories of someone governed by a sense of what is right. They are passionate dreamers and ambitious intellectuals, talented and chosen from a lineage into a time of modernity. In their tumultuous present they remain true to their dreams, beliefs and their selves. And for the first time in 31 years of life filled with therapists, blog posts, poems and sleepless nights, I felt how directed I also am in action and in thought of what is right.
I’m not a person of high morality. But defending the weak, standing up for the silent, and respecting what I don’t understand, together with fearless loyalty and open-hearted honesty is not something I choose; it’s just something I do, something I am. Because it’s right.
My writing, my relationships and my road are set out by the guiding light of Right. It governs my decisions and my reactions, what I’m striving for and what I’m coming from. When day dawned outside the cathedral and the birds sang, the light went up for me. I had just explained myself to myself through art.