Many of my parts do not speak mind-language. They speak in pulses, timelessness, waves of emotion that I cannot even name. They feel energetic vacillations in the field like the wind from butterfly wings. I am not listening to your words (I am, I am listening), but I am listening to what it is that you are not saying, what it is that your body is saying, what it is that your being is vibrating out. Sometimes, you say “I reached out to him” and a silence hangs afterwards and your being is radiating out “please be proud of me”. Sometimes you say “I don’t know what I am feeling” and your being is radiating cosmic rage. I am in a conversation with your being, through the gossamer haze of words that allow us to pretend that we are not consciousness talking to itself.
Sometimes you ask “What are you feeling?” and I cannot answer – come, sit beside me on this plane I am inhabiting, dangle your feet into the dark waters of the timeless ocean, look out with me at the expanding horizon, and you will know.
Sometimes you stare blankly at me as I desperately pulse in your direction. Can’t you hear me, I am shouting at you, but not on the material plane, deeper, on some other frequency. I didn’t realize I had given up on ever being heard until someone heard me.
We are blind, deaf, wandering with our arms outstretched, communicating through paper straws. Put down the straw, feel my vibrations.
You know how to speak this language, you may have just forgotten.
Sometimes, I stare in silence across the space to the other person, feeling their heart with mine. In this wordless space, my soul can uncurl, stretch out her arms, unfold her wings. Her face upturned to the cosmos.
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