I start with naming.

It helps me perceive.

It helps me see what’s here.

It also helps me see what’s missing.

What I’m not looking at.

What I’ve decided isn’t important.

That’s why what I call it

says more about me

than about it.

I name through a lens.

My lens.

My story.

My preference.

My version of how,

my version of what,

my version of where things are supposed to be.

The name I give something

isn’t a diagnosis.

It’s a reflection.

A reflection of what I’m afraid of.

Or what I want to avoid.

Or what I need to feel in control.

I call it resistance.

Maybe it’s rest.

I call it distance.

Maybe it’s safety.

I call it weakness.

Maybe it’s honesty.

I call it mine.

Maybe it’s on loan.

Naming helps.

When I’m willing to see

what my name reveals,

that’s what makes it reference.

Not reaction.

Not righteousness.

I still need to name what’s here.

It’s the beginning.

Not the end.

All we ever have

is a beginning.