I loved to wear dresses as a child. When I was eight or nine, I had a blue and white checked Dirndl that I imagined made me look like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. My yellow lab puppy terrified me as a younger kiddo because he would nip at my skirts. I was terrified that he would rip my hems. To be fair, I likely smothered my dresses in dirt and finger paint, so I’m not sure why I was so concerned about Sonny biting them, but I was, regardless. As an adult, I collected a hefty collection of simple dresses, mostly from thrift stores or gifts. My favorite daily dress was black with little blue and green flowers on it. The fabric was soft and it was comfortable to wear sitting in any position. It fit my body well, but wasn’t restrictive. That’s usually my favorite feature of a dress - comfort. But I also like to feel pretty wearing them. For special occasions, I may sacrifice some comfort if I feel particularly beautiful in a dress.

In early December last year, when my parents visited me in China, they bought a Chinese dress for me at the Pearl Market. My mom proudly bargained with the salesclerk until they made a satisfactory deal. It cost more than I would ever normally spend on a dress for myself, but I can’t deny that I looked quite nice in it. It was shimmery silver and light blue, bringing out my eyes and framing my body elegantly. I wore it once to a hotel opening party in Beijing and a few times alone in my room (because why not). It made me feel shiny.

Another favorite was a forest green dress with somewhat intentionally-raggedy seams. With a brown belt and golden jewelry, I felt like a wood elf when I wore that one. I also had a long blue wrap-around skirt that I wore whenever it rained. Quite a few of my skirts and dresses were beginning to get roughed up from the years of wear, so it was probably time for a reset anyways. Most of those dresses got left behind in Michigan or China and have now been thrown away or donated. Perhaps my friends in China are hanging onto a few of them for me. But it’s no big deal if not.

I found a few new thrift store dresses here in Texas which my sweetheart so kindly bought for me, and my sister-in-law gave me three dresses of her own before I left Michigan. I could also just buy some more if I wanted, but I have plenty now. Right now I’m wearing two dresses. The solid green one has a collar and buttons that go all the way down the front, so I’m wearing it like a long sweater with the black and gray striped dress on underneath. It’s not too cold here, but there is a chilly wind. Layers are good for keeping warm.

The only thing I dislike about this dress is that the buttons are made of metal. I’m not sure why, but lately I feel a bit repulsed by metal on my clothing. I’ve even been wearing my ring and watch less frequently. I very much dislike uncomfortable clothing or accessories. I feel more or less aware of my body when I wear certain clothes. Perhaps if I spend less time focused on being aware of my clothes and physical appearance, I can focus more on true awareness: Awareness of the people around me and the beauty around me.

It is necessary for awareness to be sharp, but also filled with compassion and love. Awareness without compassion nor love is purely mechanical and disconnected from the foundational levels of reality. It pushes others away from needed ideas. The same can be true of pure compassion and love without awareness. Compassionate love may intuitively give in to urges without acknowledging the bigger picture. As with all things, a careful balance is required.

When speaking, I sometimes repeat myself with minor modifications each time - rolling ideas around and testing how they sound aloud. Emphasizing the nuances in my meaning so as to prevent misunderstanding. But I know I don’t like to be told something that I already understand. It can be frustrating when a parent, colleague, or friend re-explains something they have told me before. But perhaps it isn’t for me that they are repeating the information. Perhaps they are still processing it and need to hear it one more time to ensure that they don’t forget or misunderstand. It is not necessarily a waste of time to help them in this way.

My students often repeat things to me over and over and over and over and over… This means they are still processing their new ideas or the new events they experienced. It is often a cry for help to understand a concept or situation. It is a begging for further explanation. When a child speaks, they are testing how the adults respond (or not). They quickly learn which types of words or behaviors cue adult attention. We remember those lessons from our own childhoods.

Perhaps I like dresses because of the attention I would get from adults when I wore them as a child.