evet
“When I meet a woman who attracts me, I prefer women,’ she said. ‘And when I meet a man who attracts me, I prefer men.”
June has passed me quietly, like the leaves that brush the rooftop. I cannot hear the motion though I feel it lightly as if each leaf were touching my skin.
I am sensitive to each pinecone that falls. I can taste the air that allows the swallows to sweep the air for bugs. It is me with my mouth open. There is no other way for me to exit, and I am learning to carefully draw the energy back into myself so I do not burst.
A self-induced rupture serves no one. I am useless after such events.
Everyone walks around with their phones pointed at the sky, and I don't understand what they are trying to save. Perhaps themselves. Looking back at everything I've done brings me no pleasure. It is not like having someone hold my hand or brush my hair from my face. My bangs fall in front of my eyes when I am reading, and it is utterly delightful when a friend sees this and pushes the hair back without my having to.
I love being seen as much as anyone else, though I do not need to see myself on a screen to know who I am.
Do you?
What is the point of painting a portrait if the object of your desire is outside of yourself? Do you need to see the thing if you feel the thing?
I am so full of sensation the thought of creating a container for it is painful. If I were to hold all of this in a frame, I wouldn't know what to do with my hands. Or my arms. My feet and elbows. Smile, they always say. And I do. I laugh and show my teeth even though I've read that it is a menacing act to some cultures.
Clara says that some things are not arrogant. It is merely a difference in civilization. To some people, one thing is rude; to others, it is just the way to be in the world.
If you are moving from the heart, no action is wrong. The heart will not lie. The heart is Pure. It moves from Ahimsa to radical self-love and non-harming. If you listen to your heart, it will not allow you to impose yourself upon others in a degrading or demanding way. Your heart is connected to all the hearts that beat, including animals. Including the beasts and the brutes. You will not want to harm or impose a threat on others because you understand the connection between yourself and someone else who is technically outside of you but who also lives inside of you.
Do you understand how fragile this thread of connection is? Between yourself and the other hearts humming their songs into the world?
I have been unaware of the power I hold inside of my body. I did not know how far within I could reach, and now I understand I do not want to be anywhere else. I will go to that depth in the desert this summer, away from the call of civilization and without a means to communicate.
I am and have realized being on the road is that none of the stuff you think matters is relevant to anyone but you. I care so deeply for specific things that others seem not to notice. There are others like me, secreted away in their little caves. Seen and not seen. The metaphor makes us human.
I know how to hide in plain view. I am very good at it. I have spent a lifetime shapeshifting. This is one of the things I appreciate in my character. I am very malleable. Would it have been this way had I been a man? I do not think so. One letter away from being mad.
How many lives have been ruined and abused out of anger and lust? Damn, the people who do not learn to adapt! Rage is simply the need to ruin- the inability to accept what is and move with what is happening. Release control and surrender.
Women must do this in the birthing process. I feel it is why we are more flexible and able to adapt. This is a rarity, or becoming so, amongst our species.
Technology has provided this illusionary experience of control. The dopamine rush - someone likes me, and now I have value! This is what we are feeding ourselves with every app and double tap! I am so clear sitting at a tapas bar, and the tiny dishes are meant to be shared between two to six parties. I am alone, per usual.
It is all dialogue, the ongoing, around, and within. I am comfortable with my thoughts and some bread and espresso. The sun flickers through the clouds and trees, and it feels like the day could be sweet though not still. It is very windy on the hillside overlooking the sea! A wonderful treat as I’ve come from the desert. Where I was deserted.
Too many moments I’ve wasted, like the toss of pennies to a fountain. Not so many people carry change in their purses and pockets. It is an era of plastic and particles that kill. I’ve died many metaphorical deaths, and every time I rise, I am bolder and better for it.
To surrender is a skill. The ego must feed and flourish and also dissolve and decease.
How much will you give up as you move through the world? I cling so dearly to certain things. Memories of people I no longer have contact with, I have had to close my eyes and watch the release from within. There are a few spots that I cannot clear, and when I am ready, I will. The penetration is too deep, and to pull would be to draw out a piece of glass from a foot without knowing how to stitch the wound.
I pulled a few pages from my journals and recycled the notebooks. I cannot carry my words with me any longer. It is too heavy. My bags are stuffed full. I donated clothes, shoes, and accessories. None of these objects matter; they are outside of me, and what is inside needs to be rinsed.
My point for the next chapter, however long that lasts because I never know, will be to focus on only the felt sensation of what is in front of me. I cannot trust what people say. I do not trust what people say. I must focus on what I feel when people speak - the sensations from my guts, heart, and nervous system. This is where my strength is.
It is easier in these places where I do not understand the language. I do not get so caught up in the spoken word and instead can focus on the body and eyes. It is how I know he loved me - in the eyes. And it is how I know when he decided to stop loving me. It was in his body; he would not look at me and held his arms over his chest to protect his heart.
Ah, to be broken in so many ways!
Photo source.
