Ghosting - 2024 02 05

I heard a description of dysfunctional family relationships and how certain family members can turn into ghosts as a way to survive within this type of family system.

I was thinking about feelings of invisibility, of not feeling known, of being assumed and expected to perform without feeling an intrinsic sense of belonging, of worthiness, of safety. I was thinking about compulsions to over-perform, to do more than everyone else just to feel worthy of standing on the starting line. I was thinking about the obsession of ruminating on other people's behaviours, the indignities, injustices, unfairness; the crazy-making incongruities of mis- or un-aligned words and deeds.

There were two crows, sitting on a wire. They were sitting so close together. There were no other crows sitting nearby. They were clearly sitting together. They were in a relationship and responding to each other. Around them life unfolded as it does on a sunny afternoon in February. Sounds, movement, scents - caught their attention as they sat there, together, and they moved separately and together in response to these inputs. 

Their forms were silhouetted against the sky. I captured this reference, a series of photos as they moved in response to their environment.

As I drew their silhouettes, I was thinking about ghosts and ghosting. About our lives as objects in someone else's story, and the dark, unknown depths of those stories projected onto our chid-sized bodies. How we watch and react to make ourselves invisible to avoid those projections, but inside that protective cloak of invisibility, we also disappear from ourselves, from knowing who we are, what we stand for, what we aspire to accomplish with our lives.

This duet of crow silhouettes reminds me that I am not alone. That my experience is common, not unique. That we can find our playmates in moments of clarity, and play our duets of finding our place in life together. If only for a moment, a sunny afternoon in February, perched on a wire in East Vancouver.