The room was smothered in subtitles published in papyrus font. Now we will practice the art of eye gazing he whispered. Does anyone here not know how to eye gaze? He opened one lid and slowed the strum on his a minor chord to glance my way. Of course i know how to eye gaze. From context clues and the fact that it's a self-explanatory title and that i'm an english-speaking conscious human being. But you could smell his desire to explain the deeper intention beyond the gaze to me. So i let my hand rise, giving him full reign to another long winded monologue. The eye gaze he cooed is the truest connection to the oneness of the source. The eyes, long pause, are the window to the soul. The collective soul, long pause, the source, elongated lingering ssssssss sound. Yellow light across the patterned carpets, the soft breathing of my fellow participants, and this powerful head cold helped lift the room up in a fuzzy floating haze. I turned to face my partner and felt my eyes water up with the inconvenient awareness of being used, like when you have to have a serious conversation with a superior and end up looking like you're on the abrupt edge of an emotional breakdown.
The first minute was spent tracing the impact points of a don'tblinkyougotthisdon'tfuckingblink mantra banging around inside my skull. But the repetition finally fell to background noise and i started to sink in. Michael's eyes were deeply set and skeletal. One lash dangled dangerously close to his eyeball the way that robbers cock the nose of their gun to the head of innocent bystanders when the police burst in - DON'T SHOOT OR THE CORNEA GETS IT. And then our facial expressions began to sync; i felt the left corner of my mouth droop with his, smiles crack in harmony, lids open wide and then narrow together, heads lift simultaneously.
Month's spent touring the lives of other people in other places should teach a woman a thing or two about connectivity. However the doing and the processing rarely hold hands and skip daintily down city streets. Doing strides nervously ahead and the processing saunters along, a safe stalker's distance, to watch the scene. Eventually the doing will take a seat to catch it's breath. Then the two can talk.
A patch of the paisley patterned carpet showed through my criss-crossing legs when we broke gaze. Goofily I smiled and hugged my partner, laughing at the rush of thoughts flooding back into the drained section of my mind. Month's spent moving hit me in one fell swoop. Month's trying on different personas and mentalities. Month's spent soothing the bruise of a reality-bitch-slap from learning from people i would (and probably will continue to) shamelessly generalize and mock. Month's spent climbing and jumping and swimming and running and walking and thumbing and handspringing.
Month's spent tossing at night on the rough stained cushions of someone's couch to the constant barrage of semi-schizophrenic narratives. Month's spent swooping from place to place to place, fanatically spouting praises of other human beings and only now, in the new-age-earth-and-sacred-heart-divine-gaia-loving-spirit center, among a group of new-age-earth-and-sacred-heart-divine-gaia-loving-spirit individuals, did i let it sink in. And for a brief moment, the noise stopped.
The first minute was spent tracing the impact points of a don'tblinkyougotthisdon'tfuckingblink mantra banging around inside my skull. But the repetition finally fell to background noise and i started to sink in. Michael's eyes were deeply set and skeletal. One lash dangled dangerously close to his eyeball the way that robbers cock the nose of their gun to the head of innocent bystanders when the police burst in - DON'T SHOOT OR THE CORNEA GETS IT. And then our facial expressions began to sync; i felt the left corner of my mouth droop with his, smiles crack in harmony, lids open wide and then narrow together, heads lift simultaneously.
Month's spent touring the lives of other people in other places should teach a woman a thing or two about connectivity. However the doing and the processing rarely hold hands and skip daintily down city streets. Doing strides nervously ahead and the processing saunters along, a safe stalker's distance, to watch the scene. Eventually the doing will take a seat to catch it's breath. Then the two can talk.
A patch of the paisley patterned carpet showed through my criss-crossing legs when we broke gaze. Goofily I smiled and hugged my partner, laughing at the rush of thoughts flooding back into the drained section of my mind. Month's spent moving hit me in one fell swoop. Month's trying on different personas and mentalities. Month's spent soothing the bruise of a reality-bitch-slap from learning from people i would (and probably will continue to) shamelessly generalize and mock. Month's spent climbing and jumping and swimming and running and walking and thumbing and handspringing.
Month's spent tossing at night on the rough stained cushions of someone's couch to the constant barrage of semi-schizophrenic narratives. Month's spent swooping from place to place to place, fanatically spouting praises of other human beings and only now, in the new-age-earth-and-sacred-heart-divine-gaia-loving-spirit center, among a group of new-age-earth-and-sacred-heart-divine-gaia-loving-spirit individuals, did i let it sink in. And for a brief moment, the noise stopped.
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