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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 680099" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>You are healing, I think. I am so pleased for you, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>It has to do with how we see ourselves. Everything has to do with our own interpretations of ourselves. That is why we have to know first what they taught us was true, and whether that was true or whether our own people sold us out for some win we will never understand. But then, we learn we never did have to understand them. Understanding them is impossible, anyway. </p><p></p><p>We only need to see ourselves with compassion.</p><p></p><p>And become who we were all along.</p><p></p><p>Which is what they hurt us for.</p><p></p><p>Because we were who we are, all along.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Shiny.</p><p></p><p>Like miracles.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Sometimes, we can come to see ourselves so much as others see us that we come into a place of battle between encouraging ourselves to skate on thin ice and saving our own lives. Where we are going, here on FOO Chronicles, is to a place where we can see those battles happening and recognize whose soldiers are whose.</p><p></p><p>They are all ours.</p><p></p><p>That is when, like Dorothy or Dolly, we require compassionate witness.</p><p></p><p>Someone who knows what is true bout us, though we have forgotten.</p><p></p><p>We will know we are healed when there is laughter from the Observer at the foolishness of those interpretations we believed were us. When the truth is we are like, miracles walking around.</p><p></p><p>All of us. Every one and everything. Just imagine, from time immemorial, each creature at some point, gazing up at the stars. Navigating by the stars. </p><p></p><p>Listening for the music in the spaces between them.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes.</p><p></p><p>And into the field where the most amazing things grow. Strong and healthy and delicious food, for us.</p><p></p><p>Compost juiciness is called liquid gold, did you know?</p><p></p><p>And the compost itself provides the rich structure of good, deep soil, and aerates the Earth.</p><p></p><p>Here is a story I love.</p><p></p><p>So, the Mexican mystic whose name I cannot remember now is seeing a shaman as part of his training. And the shaman turns the mystic into an earthworm. After two nights and a day, the mystic return to human form and the shaman says: "What did you learn." (The shaman asked that question because it is the only question that matters.) </p><p></p><p>"I learned I was among the most powerful of the beings who live in the Earth." replied the mystic. "I moved through solid earth and heard the Earth tremble and came out into the Wind and learned the stars and went deep, to survive the Sun."</p><p></p><p>Or something to that effect.</p><p></p><p>The moral is, none of us knows anything. We are who we know ourselves to be.</p><p></p><p>So, that being the case, our abusers had absolutely no right to change who we were born knowing we were into reflectors of themselves.</p><p></p><p>We were born to be ourselves.</p><p></p><p>They tried to steal us from ourselves.</p><p></p><p>So, we know what that makes them.</p><p></p><p>I don't know how they live with themselves.</p><p></p><p>No wonder the game means so much to them. If we should ever understand who we are, we will never believe them about who they are, again.</p><p></p><p>And then where will they be.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I see her in the far distance, moving where the sunlight is a living thing. She sees what you cannot see, yet. You are exactly as you were meant to be, Leafy. She trusts you to know that in just a little while longer. She is scoping out where you will go next, not where you are.</p><p></p><p>She knows you are perfectly able to climb the mountain, or to see whatever you like without climbing anything at all.</p><p></p><p>She is free of those old beliefs, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>They cannot harm her.</p><p></p><p>To me, she seems happy, and unconcerned, and filled with wonder.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>There is something so beautiful about the human voice, and about our capacity to sing. I wonder whether any other creature sings. Or do they hear the music in everything.</p><p></p><p>Remember when we used to sing to our children?</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I did not. What was there to say? It isn't as though a freshening, beautiful young girl (and we must understand how huge a part the corruption of our innocence played in the actions of these wicked men) knew what to do about any of that.</p><p></p><p>Ish, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>That person did not get his mouth anywhere near me. He did what he did and just kept watching my eyes with his sickness all visible around his mouth.</p><p></p><p>Yuck.</p><p></p><p>Like something rotten.</p><p></p><p>Fuel for the compost pile.</p><p></p><p>We use everything, here in the Universe.</p><p></p><p>I am sorry that happened to you, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>Ish.</p><p></p><p>A man put his tongue in my mouth once on New Year's Eve after I was all grown up and married and had children. Who knows how long he had been planning that maneuver. He did it quick as quick could be. It was a disgusting thing.</p><p></p><p>How fortunate for him that I did not bite it off.</p><p></p><p>I wonder whether that would be illegal.</p><p></p><p>I was much nicer, then. I still did not know who I was.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 680099, member: 17461"] You are healing, I think. I am so pleased for you, Leafy. It has to do with how we see ourselves. Everything has to do with our own interpretations of ourselves. That is why we have to know first what they taught us was true, and whether that was true or whether our own people sold us out for some win we will never understand. But then, we learn we never did have to understand them. Understanding them is impossible, anyway. We only need to see ourselves with compassion. And become who we were all along. Which is what they hurt us for. Because we were who we are, all along. Shiny. Like miracles. Sometimes, we can come to see ourselves so much as others see us that we come into a place of battle between encouraging ourselves to skate on thin ice and saving our own lives. Where we are going, here on FOO Chronicles, is to a place where we can see those battles happening and recognize whose soldiers are whose. They are all ours. That is when, like Dorothy or Dolly, we require compassionate witness. Someone who knows what is true bout us, though we have forgotten. We will know we are healed when there is laughter from the Observer at the foolishness of those interpretations we believed were us. When the truth is we are like, miracles walking around. All of us. Every one and everything. Just imagine, from time immemorial, each creature at some point, gazing up at the stars. Navigating by the stars. Listening for the music in the spaces between them. Yes. And into the field where the most amazing things grow. Strong and healthy and delicious food, for us. Compost juiciness is called liquid gold, did you know? And the compost itself provides the rich structure of good, deep soil, and aerates the Earth. Here is a story I love. So, the Mexican mystic whose name I cannot remember now is seeing a shaman as part of his training. And the shaman turns the mystic into an earthworm. After two nights and a day, the mystic return to human form and the shaman says: "What did you learn." (The shaman asked that question because it is the only question that matters.) "I learned I was among the most powerful of the beings who live in the Earth." replied the mystic. "I moved through solid earth and heard the Earth tremble and came out into the Wind and learned the stars and went deep, to survive the Sun." Or something to that effect. The moral is, none of us knows anything. We are who we know ourselves to be. So, that being the case, our abusers had absolutely no right to change who we were born knowing we were into reflectors of themselves. We were born to be ourselves. They tried to steal us from ourselves. So, we know what that makes them. I don't know how they live with themselves. No wonder the game means so much to them. If we should ever understand who we are, we will never believe them about who they are, again. And then where will they be. I see her in the far distance, moving where the sunlight is a living thing. She sees what you cannot see, yet. You are exactly as you were meant to be, Leafy. She trusts you to know that in just a little while longer. She is scoping out where you will go next, not where you are. She knows you are perfectly able to climb the mountain, or to see whatever you like without climbing anything at all. She is free of those old beliefs, Leafy. They cannot harm her. To me, she seems happy, and unconcerned, and filled with wonder. There is something so beautiful about the human voice, and about our capacity to sing. I wonder whether any other creature sings. Or do they hear the music in everything. Remember when we used to sing to our children? :O) I did not. What was there to say? It isn't as though a freshening, beautiful young girl (and we must understand how huge a part the corruption of our innocence played in the actions of these wicked men) knew what to do about any of that. Ish, Leafy. That person did not get his mouth anywhere near me. He did what he did and just kept watching my eyes with his sickness all visible around his mouth. Yuck. Like something rotten. Fuel for the compost pile. We use everything, here in the Universe. I am sorry that happened to you, Leafy. Ish. A man put his tongue in my mouth once on New Year's Eve after I was all grown up and married and had children. Who knows how long he had been planning that maneuver. He did it quick as quick could be. It was a disgusting thing. How fortunate for him that I did not bite it off. I wonder whether that would be illegal. I was much nicer, then. I still did not know who I was. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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