Metasomatism

n: chemical change occurring in a body of ore or in a rock-mass at a considerable depth in the earth's crust

Metasomatism is a story about the inception of longing shifting into change. I spent years of my life feeling adrift, like something was on the tip of my tongue but I couldn’t quite remember it. All the while an urge was building within me. I wanted to step into life instead of being an observer. Change begins as a smoldering desire that persists and persists until it reaches a point of ignition. Over thousands of years heat and pressure turn tiny organisms into petroleum and coal into diamonds. I feel the same process happened to me internally. The visceral, rock-filled landscape was a perfect metaphor for my new beginning.


Inquietude

I’m of a generation taught to follow my dreams, which is a beautiful and seemingly liberating concept. For me, life without constraints causes anxiety. I want to be and do everything. Within this infinity of choice, I freeze. Instead of taking action, hours are spent in an internal struggle. I visualize multiple versions of an idealized life. Expectations form, melt and reform. I hold up what I want for my life and weigh it against what others want, to what they have. I question everything and look for perfect answers that never come. There are moments of respite and clarity and moments of darkness. I search for meaning and identity. I want to stay in the magical world where anything is possible but I know I must face the reality of choice.


Night Wandering

It's in the still of night when I am most awake, in those stretches of silence when the world is at rest and I feel untethered from the pull of slumber. The weight of my exhausted limbs chafe against my unyielding mind, pulling me down into a spiral of night visions that flash across the screen of time passing and memory, leaving me paralyze with eyes wide open. Even with the closeness of the body next to me, the warm and deep slow breaths of contented slumber, I am alone in my night crawling.  Wrapped within this state of insomnia, I experience the battlefields of remote and isolated landscapes, negative spaces that feel at once perilous and beautiful. I mark my nighttime expeditions with lightly tread footsteps that lead me toward the glow of darkness. I move forward without respite, untamed and unknowing in my direction.