Many many years ago I went on a few dates with someone named Phil and I remember remarking to him how great I thought it was that Phil was a prefix for so many great words: philharmonics, philosophy, philanthropic... you get the idea. (This is how writers flirt.) I told him he was lucky because unlike his name, my own was the prefix to nothing, but at least I could take some pleasure in the fact that my name sounded like berries, and most people at least enjoyed some varieties of those. He said, "Well, what about barrier?" And although I had not thought of it, the fact that he had, displayed he was clever, but I did not like the revelation that my name was a barrier minus the "r" at the end. I did not want to be a barrier as what came up in my mind were things like blockades, traffic cones and barbed wire fences,. And I had more than enough struggles with shyness, communication problems, anxiety around people, and feeling like a weird outsider, one who often makes regrettable social errors, wherein what I have intended to mean when I speak and how it is received are unfortunately quite far apart. It’s not the most fun when people think you are rude or mean and you had meant to be so much the opposite and can't quite figure out what is what with facial expressions and volume or where exactly to focus in space. I did not want my name itself to both advertise and remind me of my problems and so I pushed the Barrier/ Barrie association as far out of my mind as I could. In fact, I succeeded in not thinking of it at all until the other day while visiting the underwater enchantments of The Great Barrier Reef. The Great barrier is another kind of barrier entirely and is even more exquisitely diverse as the brains of human beings. It is an on an on bowl, it is and after swimming and kicking my feet in borrowed duck slippers while breathing through the hollow handle of an umbrella with a tiny window strapped onto my face.I am newly thrilled that my name lives inside it. In fact, I consider it a privilege.
Here is what I know: I will never know what it is like to be tall, good at math, or play a musical instrument well. I will never know what it is like to do a back flip, a cartwheel, be proficient at dancing, singing harmony, or any athletics. I will never know what it's like to be a man, the mother of seven or go to the moon. I will never know what it's like to be fully bilingual, fly a plane, a balloon, or a helicopter. I will never know what's like to own a store, own a gallery, perform a surgery, have 12 siblings, or grow up on a farm, in a castle, or on a military base. But now I know what it's like to swim in the Great Barrier Reef and so all I can do is tell you what it was like so maybe you can have some of it, if you ever want it. If not, that's okay too. Other people’s experiences are a lot like libraries, you can check out what you like and completely ignore whole sections and stacks. But why am I telling you how libraries work? You already know. I should be telling you about the clam on the bottom. She was as a big as an old, grey Samsonite suitcase in your grandfather's basement but with wavy, delightful, teal-colored lips. The reefs went from shallow to deep and then back to shallow, like swimming above a staircase that expanded and contracted in multiple dimensions with wiggly anemones the clown fish leapt out from as if emerging from neon-drenched grass. There were parrot fish hammering their beaks on the coral. (I’ve never before seen eating and drumming combined into one. ) And I have never been a cloud in the sky looking down, but I definitely felt something exactly like that. And I never liked school on land much at all but I would have gladly joined any school in that reef and I enrolled myself in every program they offered at once and audited class after class after class. It was more playground than sitting at desks to be honest and I made a mental note that coral reef school should probably be a real thing. My Aunt Amy and I held hands underwater and the quiet was quiet past quiet, past quiet again. It was like the trap door to the sea was opened, so lucky to enter through to an illuminated portal and the coral itself was a connected body, a necklace, a bracelet, a sculpture, a sea web. There was a nurse shark, hundreds of trout decorated with mirrors and an enormous wrasse as big as a toddler, butterfly fish, and more I will never know the names of, so I called them names I considered good in the moment: Lover, Red Beauty, Diamond, Frisbee, Buzz Wuzz. Feature Creature, Tiny, Mr. Plums, Javier. Sasparilla, Chekov, Fabulosa, Queen Central, Big Belly, Cutie Pie, Watermelon slice, Heaven, Puppy Head, Mango, Muppet, and Frank. I thought of my young friend Moey who has been gone for almost two years now. "Hey Moey," I said. This is all kinds of cool right? Feel free to borrow my body if that's at all a thing you can or might want to do.” And for the last little while I imagined her with me and we swam and we swam and we swam through the blue.
Here is what I know: I will never know what it is like to be tall, good at math, or play a musical instrument well. I will never know what it is like to do a back flip, a cartwheel, be proficient at dancing, singing harmony, or any athletics. I will never know what it's like to be a man, the mother of seven or go to the moon. I will never know what it's like to be fully bilingual, fly a plane, a balloon, or a helicopter. I will never know what's like to own a store, own a gallery, perform a surgery, have 12 siblings, or grow up on a farm, in a castle, or on a military base. But now I know what it's like to swim in the Great Barrier Reef and so all I can do is tell you what it was like so maybe you can have some of it, if you ever want it. If not, that's okay too. Other people’s experiences are a lot like libraries, you can check out what you like and completely ignore whole sections and stacks. But why am I telling you how libraries work? You already know. I should be telling you about the clam on the bottom. She was as a big as an old, grey Samsonite suitcase in your grandfather's basement but with wavy, delightful, teal-colored lips. The reefs went from shallow to deep and then back to shallow, like swimming above a staircase that expanded and contracted in multiple dimensions with wiggly anemones the clown fish leapt out from as if emerging from neon-drenched grass. There were parrot fish hammering their beaks on the coral. (I’ve never before seen eating and drumming combined into one. ) And I have never been a cloud in the sky looking down, but I definitely felt something exactly like that. And I never liked school on land much at all but I would have gladly joined any school in that reef and I enrolled myself in every program they offered at once and audited class after class after class. It was more playground than sitting at desks to be honest and I made a mental note that coral reef school should probably be a real thing. My Aunt Amy and I held hands underwater and the quiet was quiet past quiet, past quiet again. It was like the trap door to the sea was opened, so lucky to enter through to an illuminated portal and the coral itself was a connected body, a necklace, a bracelet, a sculpture, a sea web. There was a nurse shark, hundreds of trout decorated with mirrors and an enormous wrasse as big as a toddler, butterfly fish, and more I will never know the names of, so I called them names I considered good in the moment: Lover, Red Beauty, Diamond, Frisbee, Buzz Wuzz. Feature Creature, Tiny, Mr. Plums, Javier. Sasparilla, Chekov, Fabulosa, Queen Central, Big Belly, Cutie Pie, Watermelon slice, Heaven, Puppy Head, Mango, Muppet, and Frank. I thought of my young friend Moey who has been gone for almost two years now. "Hey Moey," I said. This is all kinds of cool right? Feel free to borrow my body if that's at all a thing you can or might want to do.” And for the last little while I imagined her with me and we swam and we swam and we swam through the blue.