finding meaning with a friend
I met with a friend I hadn’t seen in over ten years. We are both artists. That night, I was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by loose sketching paper, experimenting with oil pastels. The pastels dragged unpredictably across the page, but I liked the way the colors smudged, how imprecise everything looked. She was at her desk, dipping her paintbrush into a glass of murky water, her canvas propped on a stand easel. We barely spoke. We didn’t really need to.
For so long, I struggled to finds reasons to live for. This was the whole reason I started Bear. To archive these miscellaneous memories with friends, thoughts, and feelings, a place to collect all these intangible moments and see if they might add up to something meaningful.
That night, I was sure I grasped a silver of this meaning that was missing from my life - in the quiet act of watching my friend paint, the soft hum of R&B music she liked, the warmth of shared silence, the gentleness of simply being with her and myself. This stillness, this presence is what meaning looks like to me: not answers, not certainty, but the tender, delicate moments that remind me I am alive.