When Lucie first said those words, I kept hearing 'split wrist ward.' Not because it's on my agenda, but because the two are related, no? In the same class of things, anyway.
I ordered two thesauruses. They're different, but both deal with synonyms. Maybe this will help me kick my long-staid habits.
I think my eyesight fails more and more. I know the optometrist's prescriptions shows no worse deterioration from last year and the year before that, but I notice the difference. In defiance of what science is telling me.
When I got out of the shower today, as I was toweling off, I thought I had the body of a centaur from the waist up (my bathroom mirror is wide, but only travels as far as my hips). It was strangely sensual and bizarre. When I get my thesauruses, I can give you an apt-one word for this experience.
I feel quietly miserable after the letting. I don't know how to collect myself back to the care of just 2 days ago. This hasn't changed. But I do feel different--it never ceases to astound me--how much I do change, even though to me, I always feel the same. Rather, I return the same.
Lucie is right in that I am still struggling to find my medium, my in between. I definitely know that I am struggling with what I have inside, and what is in the world of institutions around me (rules). She says for me to stop fearing limits and rules, to bound the boundless. To embrace restraint and that there will be a cosymbiotic relationship which will occur between the two previously conflicting impulses.
She said, like two people who annoy and cannot stand one another, who only end up having mad crushes (on one another). I want this to happen, I really do--maybe I'm not trying enough.
But I feel like there so many voices I am trying to combat. Things to contain.
My life with others is a lot about restraint. That I don't really say or reveal much (unless I feel some kind of kin with that person, which is not often.)--I feel like I am constantly standing to lose and want so much to keep what I can. It's all I have. Only what I made, and what I salvaged.
And it makes me very sad to feel like I should have restrained most of me with you--that I did wrong in the letting--that I hurt you at times, and myself, over and over.
My over-the-top melodramatic pain is disgusting, but true.
I will believe only in brief bright splashes of light. In the letting go of great things. The giving up, but having just that one moment. To feed no appetite with more hunger, to stay hungry and alive.
If only I could convince myself of anything. Ford the river.
