The first time I am conscious of having met Gary was in an Open Mic-session in The Creative’s Workshop, when he read a piece (oh. what. a. piece!) that somehow gave me a permission slip to read a post I’d written a few years earlier, entitled Bliss. I’d never attended Open Mic before, and was a bit concerned that Bliss would be too much.
Being in conversation with Gary is, for me, like I’m given an ongoing permission slip. One where I, we, are just a thought away from to the intimacy and sensuality of everyday life. Like the sensuality in my garden, when the giant poppies start to bloom, and I cannot step foot there without being overwhelmed by the lusciousness and sensuality of them.
When the first bud opens, revealing its red, floppy, crêpe-like petals… there, in all its splendor! The next day, there’s ten. The next day, there’s twenty. A week later they’re all gone. All that remains are the seed-pods, as gorgeous as the actual flowers, with a totally different character to them.
Allowing myself to dive into the experience of them…. ah!
I share that.
In one of our meanders.
But we pass through a lot more, as we walk together, hand in hand, metaphorically, me and Gary.
One of the more meaningful ones, having both me and Gary go silent for a bit, feeling into it, centered on a place to land. How, sometimes, when you speak to someone, what you say, has a place to land in them. How that feels. The ease of it, within me, experiencing how my words lands in someone else. And the pain if/when they don’t. When what I am speaking cannot land, it’s as if they go homeless. Lost. Nowhere to perch, nowhere to rest.
Growing up, I oftentimes kept things within. I did not even give myself the opportunity to have it land in another person. But when my first marriage fell apart, for the wellbeing of myself as well as my unborn child, I made a conscious decision to shift. I would no longer keep everything within, because if I did, I knew we’d not survive, me and my child.
Not everything can –or even should– land in everyone.
You might have words you need to speak, that I am not capable of receiving. And vice versa.
But oh how vital it is to have enough people around you that your words, your needs, your wants, have at least one or two places to land!
Luckily, I did, when my life as I knew it fell apart. I’m hoping you do too. And if you don’t… Every journey starts with a single step, so what’s one step you can take today towards surrounding yourself with people where you can have a place to land when needed?
Now. There’s some tankespjärn for you, spoken with utmost gentleness and care.
The erotic mind by Jack Morin
Brida by Paolo Coehlo