As I stared out from the log/cave (bottom center of the page), S- asked what I saw. Squirrels. There were two squirrels eating nuts at the base of a tree. There was a black bear and a mountain lion, each peaceful. The air was hazy, debris floating free. I could see the bottom of the legs of two firefighters as they ran past me in slow motion. I couldn’t hear. It was that soundless-emerging that happens after an explosion or emergency, sometimes with loud high-pitched ringing. This though was a thick lack of sound that stopped communications, put itself between me and everything else. The sound becomes the glass that separates me…
And as I drew I remembered the reddish glow of the sky. I wasn’t sure what words would accompany. Since I drew the other half of the fire-people I thought they could use a hose. And out of the hose came PRESENCE, and it put out the PAIN.
We talked a lot about the concept of impermanence. The colors were bright and the idea scared me. I was present, some of the time, but answered, “Bubbles!” at a less than ideal moment. I went outside in a very dark space and started blowing bubbles I had in my purse. As I pondered, I watched the bubbles pop – like Cinderella does when she’s scrubbing the floor and singing. I watched the bubbles pop. And it dawned on me that they were proof I am capable of accepting an impermanent thing without freaking out.
Then I figured I should probably go someplace safe. At first nothing came to mind, but then I remembered I have a list of places on a crisis plan in my journal. I tried to recall them instead of looking and, as the places came to mind, I asked myself what they all had in common… The only thing these places had in common was me. So, the only safe space is me. It’s a lot to take in.
“S- is right. I have been losing weight… If I inhale just right, like in lyrical dancing or turns, that feeling comes back. Bone sticking out, ribs expanded, hollow underneath, organs hug my spine, shoulders down, hips squared, head high, sometimes on my toes with beautiful arms, or just the torso part with the rest dancing in my head. I haven’t had the privilege of that feeling in a very long time. And if I can do that again, then it’s okay to make shapes when I breathe. The crescent moon – belly soft and round on one side but when you spin it around the other side is concave. Just like my belly when I breathe or dance. I’ve been thinking about this symbol. I drew it on my hand so every time I look down I see it. It gives me permission to breathe. I AM the crescent moon… I even hate my body less today.”