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The intention is to live in this natural state of upwelling.
The quiet makes us conspicuous, as most manage the noise by joining it. Sometimes, as they pass, they’ll ask what we’re doing.
A paradox is revealed: Self-preservation in the truest sense is only realized in self-offering.
Victimhood has become a counterfeit form of identity because it offers immediate returns. It relieves a woman of the harder labor of becoming internally sourced. The cost, though, is staggering.
There is nothing you can do that will make me turn away. I will remain with you. I will meet you on your terms.
There is no reserve tank of life saved for better circumstances. This is it.
With no real example of power as a carrier signal to follow out of we continue to chase relief. Relief will only be found when woman recognizes that she is the destination.
Free of my phone, my email, my constant orientation toward bad news or hopeful news, I notice what’s left. It turns out what’s left is everything.
From psychedelics to sexual energies, from marginalized people to incarceration. I go into the mind-ghettos and get the jewels out of the dung heap.
What if it is precisely that waiting and holding back is the cause of our own exhaustion, neuroses, frustration, and irritation?
