20 Questions with Kirby

A few short days ago, I returned from a wonderful place called North Carolina Governor’s School West. The experiences I had there taught me so much about my academic area of interest (English), being independent, building relationships, and making lifelong memories. The mantra at Governor’s School is “question everything.” As someone who likes certainty, this idea has made me pretty uncomfortable for most of my life. Some questions lead us to answers that we do not want to find. Some don’t have answers. Nonetheless, the past five and one-half weeks have taught me that I’m not here to have all the answers. I’m here to ask questions and follow them wherever they may lead. So I’ve compiled a list of 20 questions that tend to occupy my thoughts and that I’d like to explore in the upcoming year. 20 questions is a pretty fun game, so feel free to play along!




1. Having withstood the test of time, the golden rule states that we should treat others the way we would like to be treated. If we do not believe that we personally deserve to be treated with empathy and respect, what implications does this have on the way we treat others?
2. Is it possible to truly know a person, or are we merely creating fictional characters in a narrative we write based on the traits we perceive?
3. The saying goes that a picture is worth a thousand words. Who's to say that a word can't be worth a thousand pictures?
4. Can we truly experience happiness in its greatest magnitude without the existence of pain and suffering?
5. In a society that places such great value on individualism, why do so many individuals feel as if they are of little to no value?
6. In the grand scheme of the infinite universe, our planet is merely a speck. Why then, do we use physical distance as a justification for crumbling relationships?
7. Most people agree that lying is morally wrong, and many assert that anything that is not entirely true is a lie. Is it morally wrong to say "I'm fine" when in reality you're the complete opposite?
8. I'm a Christian. Many people in my faith tend to condemn nonbelievers for "rejecting God's love." How can someone be expected to accept a love that is not evident in the lives of those who profess it?
9. By one definition, language is described as "an finite number of symbols arranged into an infinite number of possible combinations." Does this qualify things such as music and mathematics as languages?
10. Would we have more boldness in saying "hello" to strangers if we didn't live with the constant threat of "goodbye?"
11. 75% of American girls believe that their personal worth depends on how they look. For a long time, I was one of them. What are we doing (or not doing) as a society to stop the perpetuation of this destructive idea?
12. How am I supposed to respond when I feel inextricably connected to someone who doesn't even know my name?
13. Is "loving from a distance" an example of bravery or cowardice?
14. Why am I really good at some of the things I'm indifferent towards, but really mediocre at some of the things I'm most passionate about?
15. What are the consequences of labeling romantic love as the most consummate form of human attachment?
16. When is silence louder than noise?
17. When will I stop making the same wish at 11:11 every night: when it finally comes true, or when I accept the fact that it probably never will?
18. Which of these is the most defining component of my identity: the physical, the mental, or the spiritual?
19. Why does it often seem that fiction contains more truth than fact alone?
20. What happens when I run out of questions?

Do You Consider Yourself a Masterpiece?

Slightly interesting fact about me: I really like to write poetry. I don't get to do it as often as I'd like, and I'm no Robert Frost, but there's just something about making words come together that gets me really excited. I especially like it when I feel like I've written something that will brighten someone's day and remind them of how ridiculously loved they are. One poem that reminds me of this is Psalm 139, which famously states: "For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well" (Psalm 139:13-14). So, I figured I'd try to incorporate this truth into a poem of my own. It's intended to be more of a spoken word thing, but since no one wants to see a video of me yelling at them, the script itself is just going to have to work. I really hope it makes you smile!

Do you consider yourself a masterpiece?

Because you know,

We live in a world where it’s easy to feel like a stick figure scribbled on scrap paper

With stubby, broken crayons,

That not even a child will pick up because the colors just aren’t

“Pretty enough.”

 

Because somehow,

We’ve all fallen captive to the presupposition

That the “best art” has to be made out of the “best stuff,”

And that only an intricate physique painted delicately on a sterile white canvas

With paint so pungent, and so bright that its pigments have to be diluted with water

Is worthy of being plastered onto the walls that we build

To detain, to disdain, to disguise, and to deprive ourselves

Of the universe that lies beyond the interior

Because we’ve decided that no one out there in the vastness

Would stand up at an auction and scream over the hushed murmur of the other bidders

Just to hold us in their soft hands and whisper

“Mine.”

 

But then, I look at you,

And I realize,

We’re wrong.

 

Because you, my dear

Are the best art,

The kind of masterpiece that deserves to be on exhibition under the fluorescent lights of an uptown gallery,

To be admired by the glimmering gazes of passersby,

Who stand in awe of the way the colors run together in all the right places brushstroke by brilliant brushstroke,

And to finally be bought at a price of nothing less than a thousand gold coins

Of love and gentleness,

To be emblazoned above the crackling embers of a warm fireplace,

In a home with transparent walls

In a universe of your very own.

 

But yet somewhere in the blurred lines between

Beauty and brokenness,

I’ve lost sight of what the “best stuff”

Really is, and I’m honestly not sure that I know anymore,

But I do know that whatever you’re made of is pretty spectacular,

Like the shimmering dust of the earth that glistens on your bare feet,

And the splendid sunshine that brings out the streaks in your hair,

And the way your soft voice breaks the earsplitting silence,

And the music that exudes from your sympathetic soul.

 

And maybe you’re made of some things that you like to conceal,

To confine to the sketches crumpled up under your bed because you didn’t want to call them art,

Like the scar you got when you stepped on a rock while trying to dance in a thunderstorm,

And the icy rain that falls from your eyes and sometimes blurs your vision when you drive,

And the way you still wake up with cold sweat in the middle of the night because you could never quite kill the monsters in the closet, 

And the shards of glass, sitting in your soul, that the music couldn’t replace when the world handed you heartbreak.

 

But I don’t care if it isn’t always the “best stuff,” or the “brightest paint,”

Fight through the cobwebs festering under your bed, take out those sketches,

And tattoo those flaws on your sun-kissed skin,

Because you, my darling,

Are fearfully, and wonderfully made,

Knitted together with the silvery threads of

Beauty and brokenness,

Woven into the greatest mess of a masterpiece,

The kind that isn’t yet complete.

 

And so if you’re ever asked to draw a self-portrait

And you scribble a stick figure on scrap paper

With stubby, broken crayons

That come in colors you just don’t think are

"Pretty enough,”

Then I will proudly plaster it over the cracks in my crumbling walls,

But then I will sit down at my cluttered desk and write you a poem to say

“You are so much more.”

You are so much more than the person the world will make you out to be, and you better not forget it.