nearly July (draft from June)

When I was a kid, I would run around my backyard chasing fireflies with an outstretched hand. I knew other kids that liked to keep them in jars, but I found that if I just gently lifted my hand upwards beneath a hovering firefly, it would land in my palm and often stay there. Sometimes, I would cover it with my other hand and create a temporary cocoon to trap the bug, peeking through the opening between my thumbs every few seconds to see that it hadn't crawled out between my fingers.

Pursuing true concentration feels a lot like running after it with a butterfly net. I'm swinging and missing a lot of the time. When I finally catch something and find myself in uninterrupted focus, I have to be careful about how I handle it. If I let go and look away, it's liable to fly away. Waving it around to show my friends will often use up all my momentum with none left to spend on the thing itself. And, I often feel compelled to trap it, isolate it, stick it in a jar and enjoy it. I'm scared that giving it some space means that it will fly away. But in a jar, it can't grow or be influenced. And why shouldn't I trust that it might want to stay on its own accord? Like those fireflies that rest in my hand for much longer than I ever expect them to?

I finished reading Song of Solomon a few days ago. I'm already plotting which of Morrison's books to read next (leaning towards Jazz), but finishing was monumental as an exercise in trusting my attention. I feel this internal energy building as I repair my relationship to reading and consuming media with the sole purpose of growing my inner curiosity.

Something that always draws me into desiring to know Morrison's characters is the way they are named. The central character is named Milkman after becoming known for his mother continuing to breastfeed him past an "appropriate" age. His real name, Macon Dead, shared with his father and grandfather, comes from a drunk census taker misunderstanding Milkman's grandfather as he gives his family history. Names swirl through the story, plucked from the bible, misheard and stuck, or given after an impressionable moment. I'm reminded of the many origins of name giving and of my own reasoning for changing my name. There's power in understanding the story of your name, it influences the trajectory of one's life.