Full Moon
I made a wish on the moon for more of the Yes. For more of the silences. For more knowing that This is water. And I gave gratitude for all that is, knowing, and existence.
What shocked me in the outburst and emotion and defensiveness of D(f) surrounding keys and locking and self safety probably has to do with not being able to see N's and D(m)'s faces as they calmly opposed her. A sense of drowning her needs (as usual?) in a loudness that only comes with the depth of male voices. I didn't understand her claim and her frustration at the idea of even talking about it. Either it is or it isn't. Black or white. Flame is how she lives. Suffocated flame. Self-suffocated. It hurts to watch her do that. It hurts to watch her hurt, and it's bewildering because the trigger is so under surface that I don't see it. Like a landmine.
Talking through trying to understand each of our defenses makes me stretched and raw and needing quiet time. Held. Cooled. Space for breathing and incorporation of all that I learned by pushing tentacles into other people's perspectives. I want to know how they/you feel, even if there's no way my brain path would take ME through those waves in those instances. Must. Find. Comparable. Instances. Like the postcard thing. Handmade works so easily for me and is beautiful. Store bought doesn't so much work. Getting the opposite reminds me what it might be like to be the other way around.
This is water.
What shocked me in the outburst and emotion and defensiveness of D(f) surrounding keys and locking and self safety probably has to do with not being able to see N's and D(m)'s faces as they calmly opposed her. A sense of drowning her needs (as usual?) in a loudness that only comes with the depth of male voices. I didn't understand her claim and her frustration at the idea of even talking about it. Either it is or it isn't. Black or white. Flame is how she lives. Suffocated flame. Self-suffocated. It hurts to watch her do that. It hurts to watch her hurt, and it's bewildering because the trigger is so under surface that I don't see it. Like a landmine.
Talking through trying to understand each of our defenses makes me stretched and raw and needing quiet time. Held. Cooled. Space for breathing and incorporation of all that I learned by pushing tentacles into other people's perspectives. I want to know how they/you feel, even if there's no way my brain path would take ME through those waves in those instances. Must. Find. Comparable. Instances. Like the postcard thing. Handmade works so easily for me and is beautiful. Store bought doesn't so much work. Getting the opposite reminds me what it might be like to be the other way around.
This is water.