ライアン・ダニエル・ドブソンさんのインスタグラム写真 - (ライアン・ダニエル・ドブソンInstagram)「“It’s just the right size for me!”  As a child I remember finding sandstone cubbyholes similar to this one when we lived in Moab, Utah. And I remember having the same reaction my son did to this one. Like, “This one is special, because I fit here.”  Now that I’m reflecting on it, I recognize it’s a desire I still have.   I remember it when moving to LA: Where are our people? I feel it walking into a room where I don’t know anyone: where will I fit here? And I recognize the inverse I have as I drive across the country: would they hate me here?  My cousin and I had a long conversation into the early morning about the rising tension in the country. It’s both fascinating and terrifying how people on opposing sides of the aisle - who see each other as enemies - self-identify with such similar ideals: speaking up for the voiceless, health for our country, resisting evil, and doing “the right thing.” The categories are so similar, but the content inside is so different. And so tensions rise and rise; tension to trembling tenor, trill timbre.   Screaming people don’t seem to be in a place I’d fit.   But then, maybe it’s less about “fitting” and more about “making space.” The delight my son feels when he finds the mini-cave is a sense that a space has been made for him; a place formed in something that resists being shaped; a carved-out space in solid rock.   “And on this Rock I will build a space for my people.” And this People will be composed of misfits, cast-outs, and the ones who were said to not-belong. They are the square pegs. They are the ones whom the institution rejected, but on this Rock, space will be carved out for them.   Here, they fit.」9月8日 21時58分 - ryanddobson

ライアン・ダニエル・ドブソンのインスタグラム(ryanddobson) - 9月8日 21時58分


“It’s just the right size for me!”

As a child I remember finding sandstone cubbyholes similar to this one when we lived in Moab, Utah. And I remember having the same reaction my son did to this one. Like, “This one is special, because I fit here.”

Now that I’m reflecting on it, I recognize it’s a desire I still have.

I remember it when moving to LA: Where are our people? I feel it walking into a room where I don’t know anyone: where will I fit here? And I recognize the inverse I have as I drive across the country: would they hate me here?

My cousin and I had a long conversation into the early morning about the rising tension in the country. It’s both fascinating and terrifying how people on opposing sides of the aisle - who see each other as enemies - self-identify with such similar ideals: speaking up for the voiceless, health for our country, resisting evil, and doing “the right thing.” The categories are so similar, but the content inside is so different. And so tensions rise and rise; tension to trembling tenor, trill timbre.

Screaming people don’t seem to be in a place I’d fit.

But then, maybe it’s less about “fitting” and more about “making space.” The delight my son feels when he finds the mini-cave is a sense that a space has been made for him; a place formed in something that resists being shaped; a carved-out space in solid rock.

“And on this Rock I will build a space for my people.” And this People will be composed of misfits, cast-outs, and the ones who were said to not-belong. They are the square pegs. They are the ones whom the institution rejected, but on this Rock, space will be carved out for them.

Here, they fit.


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