My Poetic Self came to me at my first meeting with Sisters Hope in Home.

A Self is for some easily accessible.
They know who they are - no question about it.
For others the Self might be hidden on another planet or at the bottom of a sea.
The quest can take a lifetime.

My Self is hiding under the mask of fear.

In me there is a paralysing fear of not belonging, of not being loved, if I should become my Self fully.
It takes courage to be your Self
to manifest and express yourself.

My Poetic Self first came to me in a feminine shape,
Plasma: a fluid creature, soft, cautiously strange, and quite agreeable, liked by most.
A shape that was more leaning into the style and structure of Sisters Hope, as I understood it, than it was leaning into my own, because my own structure was still very vague to me.
I could hardly feel myself, my Self.

It seemed dangerous to try and feel it.
If I really feel myself, and act accordingly, will people still be there, or will I be left alone?

I believe in an evolving Poetic Self. A Self that expands, deepens, unfolds.
I am on this journey, unravelling my true Self in fear that my Self might be completely crazy, or a bigger fear, completely normal.

I have always been drawn to the nothingness of things, the nonbeing.
I have done the nonbeing before.
But Ram Dass says, "You have to become somebody before you can become nobody."

There is courage in being somebody
Courage in materializing for all to see and judge.

I have stayed in the curtains for a long time, remained not fully seen, but at a point
it is necessary to unveil, yell and scream, flutter the arms, show the crooked teeth in the undermouth and turn on the brightest lights.

I am afraid I will be so ugly and so alone.

So here we go