For years I’ve been fashioning the perfect invisibility cloak. As a child I constructed my cloak from a tenuous fabric lined with pinholes, perhaps because I was not fully comfortable with invisibility. From these holes I would shine my green eyes with catlike curiosity on my peers, who had no need for such disguises. I, however, was not comfortable in the wide open. I preferred to observe unnoticed, letting the energy of movement, play, conflict, breeze past without the danger of engagement. Occasionally I’d allow myself to be drawn in, but it was safer behind the cloak.
As I grew older, my cloak grew less transparent…light enough to sprinkle fairy dust should I choose, but thick enough that I could roam completely unnoticed. I stepped out less frequently, and normally only because someone found a pinhole to rip asunder. Occasionally I spotted a kindred spirit behind her invisibility cloak and came out only to encourage her to do the same.
These days my invisibility cloak is fashioned from skin, which is not so easy to remove. At times, I feel trapped behind the cloak and want to scream, “I’m in here! Someone notice me!” But that would require an interplay of energy I do not want to sustain. I’d rather move fairylike through the world, touching spirit a little bit at a time. Rarely does someone interest me enough to whip off the cloak and engage. Typically I am forced to do so out of obligation.
At times, I wish I had the bulk to stay grounded, rooted to others. But all 100 pounds of me would prefer to stay hidden atop a wooded tree or inside the pistil of a poppy flower. At times, I feel left out and would like to play…if only for a while. But the clutches always become too tight and it’s hard to get back to invisibility. When I return, the cloak feels itchy and uncomfortable. So here I will stay, wrapped safely in its silk, patching up pinholes as they come…staring with catlike curiosity at the humans who walk exposed and love rawly…no invisibility cloak to protect them.