I am not sure why, but I am writing this out. Part of being here is following silent urges. Here I go again....
The other day I wrote in my journal after writing about a dream. It brought up unexpected tears and I didn't even try to hold them back, even though I was sitting at an outdoor cafe. I didn't care, I wasn't even aware anyone was around. I was in that timeless realm.
The dream was me watching a very obese woman drag herself along the roof of a building that I am on too. She is so obese that all she has on is a large piece of material draped over her naked body haphazardly. I know she is going to commit suicide, I hesitate to say anything, but after waiting, I finally speak up but she is in the midst of allowing gravity to pull her massive weight over the edge. I do not look, I did not hear anything, it was a silent death but I know she is now dead, she is all over the street and sidewalk. It is a mess.
From my journal:
It takes courage to go out into the world and let people see your shape. I want to cry because that obese woman gave up, she killed what she hated, herself.
She knew there was more to her but she had no faith in anybody's ability to see it, to see her.
I both detested the obese woman and yet loved her for the courage to show up. Do people know what courage that takes? Would they walk into a social situation naked? Let people see their scars, their weakness,their strange toes or hairy moles, birth defects?
But I want to be seen, known, and I wish to know someone deeply...to be let into their small rooms with even smaller doors.
I have inner rooms, inner doors with tiny doorknobs and I fear no one cares to enter.
Do I care to enter? Yes, but alone?
These tiny spaces yearn to be shared. I suppose we have to tour our own garden before we can give a tour.
The yearning for self, to enter those spaces.
Perhaps I think wrongly that these are only for sharing. Perhaps a tour of one's garden and tiny rooms is our birthright -- is our tasks of tasks.
I let the obese woman (sloth) kill herself. Or perhaps, she was tired and wanted to go?
(end of journal entry)
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