I feel there’s the (w)Hole universe encapsulated in gifts received from you and through you…
Sword-Weaver,
water Drops,
Flame-voice,
dancing lady (Sun)Death,
Journey in a little bottle…
Evening after, Sister asked me what the most transformative experience was? Well, dear Sister, it was our Union rituals of shadow&light: one by one, air by air, each poetic self witnessed by or “clashing” with other poetic selves.
*) (w)Hole‘s longing for ‘attraction being a deep river’ (thank you, ‘Here&Now’, I love that expression you coined). And (w)Hole’s fire rush to be seen in.
**) Flame seducing and scaring with power voice. Oh, how I wanted to turn to you. But if I had, would I have given myself an opportunity to experience your despair that was so precious in a non-attractive way. You cherish bravery in others…and you are brave.
***) burial of Sad Dancer. She looked soo changed and beautiful when she decided to come back!
****) bringing an embodied, collective Drop to the deep question of that love mechanism! : dance of giving and receiving in the point of contact. And tipping the balance to painful extremes
*****) entangling herself in a spider web. All eyes on her … ‘thread’-swords Woven in many more than only 2 directions, actually.
******) taking on a Journey of surrendering to others’ commands. I saw something in him: the most attractive, powerful weapon lied in enjoyment of and immersion in a role you’re playing in people’s lives.
And to all the observers:
your eyes and empathetic hearts on what you’ve witnessed, how you felt on your own skin those people immersed in centrum – this expanded the whole experience to multiple dimensions!
Beginnings are important.
a hole…in the wall
I’ll leave now. But I will come back.
Related Blogposts
The Missing Touch. At a time, a star high above all of the others were overwhelmed by the beauty all around it. It shed a tear, and the teardrop fell straight down and was clear as a crystal. The teardrop had no edges, no sharp points, sides or corners on…
the air swam a little different in the days following the fire as though held in a state of impassioned disbelief an imposed shock or awe – in breath not quite lost but caught – by oils, and the scene of now blackened embers, charred brick beams of the roof…