Warm Reality Soup

Sometimes, I almost get it.

I can feel the intent, just like a name trapped behind my tongue.

Being open.  Feeling.  In touch.  This state is beautiful, approachable, desirable. 

I have moments when I must appear this way without realizing.  When I am lost in thought at the store, and someone asks me if I know where something is.  I used to take this that they mistake me for someone who knew things, or for someone in authority.  Now I think they are attracted to someone who they can reach out to, who is approachable, who will answer without judgement.  Often, people at odd moments or in odd situations will confide things in me.  Strangers.  Authorities. 

When I am soft.  When I am open.

I pushed him away.  I push people away when I am rigid or stiff or holding back fear.  We all do.  We say with our mouths we are ready, but with our bodies we say we are ready to run, or to fight, or to endure.  We have grown up on our parents saying they love us, while they wish we would go away and leave them alone with their own sorrows.  Or worse, that they are there for us, when we were really only born to be there for them.  Our idols are actors who feign interest and love when they cannot stand each other.  Although they may be good, somewhere, we know.  In body language, or the intangible sneer, or even in the ripples of the cosmic reality.  But we suspend our judgement for that moment, and let our minds and emotions flow and along and enjoy the farce as if it were reality.  Love masking hostility.  A river of disdain sluggishly overrunning the banks of congeniality.  Our heroes and idols and leaders, narcissists and sociopaths all. 

And we love them for their contempt, and we shower them with adulation and praise when they rebuff us.    Our hearts bathe in the pollution of their shadows, while our souls wallow ecstatically in the misery, determined that we are unworthy to carry their torch. 

Once, the theater of our lives was stylized, so over the top that we had no confusion between reality and the fraud of power.  It was easier to recognize the veil of glamour shimmering over our eyes.  now we routinely knock our idols off their perches to make us think we might have been them, that they don’t get to have what we don’t get to have.  Even though we all know how those selfsame rules are bent for the rich, and the famous. 

And we get to resent them even more for the knowing.

And we live our lives in hard shells.  We live our lives strong.  We live the legacy of the conquered and the conquerors, that you must be able to act and kill the enemy and show no mercy, and that the women left over are property to be claimed and broken and only defeated people will wail in mourning.  Male, female, yin, yang, I differ and argue here.  Conqueror and conquered.  Master and slave.  Abuser and abused.  These are the dichotomies as I see them, my truth.

But I am a greenwitch.  I walk a world where I crave balance.  Light dancing with dark.  Pain and sorrow raising joy up to greater heights.  One is not evil, nor the other inherently good.  They are life.  They are as they were made, for Kali dances that things may change, and all things change where chaos intersects and ripples into absolute order.  Divine love?  I think not.  Divine acceptance, divine dance, divine wisdom. 

I want to stay softer, more open, more beautiful.  For all the wrong reasons?  And the right ones, mixed together.  I am never one thing, one thought, one desire. 

I can almost understand, until I try to engage with him, and I lose all sense of proportion, and the personal pain of what he has done, and the anguish of what I chose to experience, and the acceptance that the lies behind the attempt really do matter.  Everyone lies.  Words say one thing, body another.  I wanted to tell the truth.  I tried to make it truth.  I tried to feel those things because that is how I wanted love that I offered to be.  I do not think that is wrong.  I just think I could have done better for myself.

I hope I can keep these thoughts strong.  I hope I can remain like butter, thickened and solid in a fluid, yielding, enriching form.  I hope I can keep the connection to the goddess strong, sit with her and keep her close, learn to be one when I need and many when I choose.

I can almost feel my truth complete.


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