Cohesive me. What does that mean? A moment where I felt absolutely at ease in my body? Where I was 100% comfortable as me? This may not have been the year for many of these moments as I feel as though I spent most of the year doubting "me" and challenging the ideals and images I have of myself. Because of this it was difficult to not step outside of myself and judge from the outside in. Normally, I would say that this isn't a practice I would encourage, but I think I need to have been doing this for the past several months to discover important things about myself. This all being said, I've been wracking my brain for the past twenty-four hours to figure out an answer to this question. What I've come to realize is that there is no perfect answer to any question, just an amalgam of acceptable answers to choose from. So I have an answer. Back in June, in Rockport, Massachusetts, after a few drinks [maybe this "cohesive me" shouldn't be the result of a few drinks, but oh well!] I was sitting on the porch at the hotel, across from the ocean, and looking up at the stars. Now, looking at the stars never gets old; it sounds cheesy and storybook, but it's true, it's always interesting. This particular night was especially clear and I was met with a deep feeling of smallness. Over the course of the next half hour or so, through conversation and thought, I felt both uncomfortable in my own skin, and a part of something whole and enormous: the universe.
Rockport, during the day: