The tickling of my fingers when I type on the computer. The sensation of the hair as it brushes my cheeks and shoulders. An itch that moves through different parts of the body, seeming to escape the attempt of my hands to want to stop it.
Lifetime. All the while life. Breathing, life. My partner and ally since I came here. Who walks me and who feels me. The transport through which my most intimate essence interacts with the world in which I live. With the others. The equals. The bodies that also move, animated and select. Each his own. The one of one, the one of all.
I listen to him and look at him. And I contemplate the alphabet that he himself has created for himself. His language and his gift. He works, always, and speaks, whether I listen to him or not. He goes at his own pace. Rather to the rhythm of the heart. The heart and the body. An infinity of aspects that makes them equal, brings them closer. Sensitive and intuitive, perceptive and open. Transparent and delicate. Strong and brave. They fall in love with each other, they recognize each other fellow allies in this life that is presented and continues.
I let him do and be playful. That takes center stage and takes me. I don't want to send it, even if it's just for a little while, I'll give it this right that corresponds. Let it dance and float, let it rise and fall dense to the ground that supports it every day. I crawl and transport myself through the internal current that lives it and that unites it to mother earth.
How many times has he spoken to me and I have not listened to him. I have looked away, I have closed my ears and my senses. Because I was not interested. Because it bothered me. Because he told me truths that I did not want to hear and they were uncomfortable. It was easier for me to hold a reality that, even made of cardboard, was controlled, I thought. And he would come, like a whirlpool, and he would tell me that perhaps that was not what he was playing. Of meaning, of life, of destiny.
It drowned him and it drowned him. I was telling him to shut up. Weeks, months, years. I was moving away from him, marginalizing him, to enter a fictitious reality that seemed original to me at that time. Until after much and much talking, he got tired. I neither listened nor heard him. And then he started screaming. Strong, very strong. I got scared, of course. Suddenly, I heard a voice that I did not even recognize, although it had never stopped talking to me. But that voice deafened me ... I wanted to cover my ears, even louder. And then he screamed more, and more, and more. I wanted to beat the pulse that I was submitting to. Demanding that all that was unraveling before me be kept.
But not. He went away. Everything. All. Me. And then the body stopped screaming. Then he caressed me, with words, with sighs and whispers. He told me stories and gave me messages. Surrendered, ecstatic, destroyed, disassembled ... I could only look at him, out of the corner of her eye, and listen to him. For the first time, I would open up and let everything she said penetrate me. Because he no longer had what to fight for. He had nothing to protect, or to justify. It was all gone. The curtain of that work that he was seeing had been lowered and he was in a dressing room in the shape of an internal cave. And nothing happened there. Neither time nor space. I just noticed how bruised I was after so much resisting and fighting. But had I said enough, or had I been forced to do it.
Be that as it may, I appreciated it. I was already tired, exhausted, too. I had had enough of living for a few years blind to myself. To my feeling and breathing. To my most secret longings that came out glowing the moment I gave them space to do so. And then they would dance before me, in the middle of the darkness of that cave, and they would teach me dances that I had never seen before. They explained possibilities that I did not know and they went back inside me to follow the movement, more awake, to my gut. Hips, breasts, head, feet, hands ...
In Myself. An awakening. Accepting and becoming aware that all that was me, part of me total and indissoluble to my everything. Much more connected to heaven and earth than reason could be in many moments. Stop supporting something that was neither chosen nor dear to me. But imposed, it was accepted as a reality of its own. Building from that is destructive, sick.
So when I remember myself stretched out and beaten, exhausted and bruised, I smile and cry at the same time. And I give thanks, infinite thanks for having said enough to me. To have stopped, dear body. For telling me that it was not going well and I was hiding from myself. That I was following a current that was not my own and that this could lead me to the death of my essence and my purest self. I was lucky. Soon they told me, they warned me, that the path I was following was full of mines because it was far from my heart. Of my soul and my center.
I was lying there I don't know how long. I neither counted nor did I care. I let myself heal until one day, suddenly, I noticed how my body was animated. Sensitive and alive. That many things happened in him.
I took them all as my friends, the revealers of deep secrets. After having walked through those dungeons, I stood up convinced that all that had taken on a different meaning in me and in my conscience. That nothing would ever be the same again, because suddenly I had integrated myself in a new way. My sensations, emotions, intuitions and entrails were in tune with my body. And my body represented me as an intrinsic part of this human existence. The intangible, unquestionable protagonist, my roots and my support.
Then I let him do it. Tell me and guide me. To advise me when yes and when not. When something was good for him and when something was not pleasant. With people, with situations, with music and with songs. With food and with sports. With dances and sounds. I let him speak. And he never screamed again. Not in this desperate and exorbitant way, like she had. Now sometimes he raises his voice. A bit. But then I glance at him and he smiles at me. You know and I know that I will not leave you in vain. That I will listen to him. That everything you tell me will be valued as a truth to be felt.
He is my guide, my internal thermometer, my compass and my greatest ally.
I know that when I'm on my way, he rests in peace, flowing and swimming for the meaning of life.
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