its easy for a practiced mom to make a statement like "people are selfish until they have kids"! what I don't understand is why those unarmed (with kids) are always so easy to take censure and smile at it. ever heard of a mom being open to criticism, of any kind? the immediate retort will be "don't judge until you understand!"
my view is: parenthood expands a person's definition of 'self', to include those born from oneself. but the concentration on the new 'self' is far stronger and more selfish than anything before. ever heard of a parent having time for you, if you're not the offspring? so parents, stop judging others.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Friday, November 1, 2013
its not a coincidence. I do tend to blog only when I'm alone. it doesn't even occur to me when I'm not.
by myself I hear and sense better. I realize more. I feel different, like I'm more myself. all definitions blur and the days are open for experiments. I don't have to sleep at night if I can't. even if my body aches as if I've been wrestling a strong enemy. morning doesn't happen at a specific time. nor do meals, and schedules don't survive. I don't have to celebrate crossing a hurdle if I don't feel the need for celebration. I allow myself wider error gap. its all ok. I needn't conform to what you agree. or those you like. I become white noise. I can err, hugely, widely, and know I'll return to self acceptance. I know I'll be fine, and yes I don't need anyone telling me that.
I speak with people differently. and I talk to different people. I realize how little I know about some. people are the same everywhere. its easy to reach them, to touch them, only if you care to. everyone has a history. something they are not sure they don't regret. but it makes them. everyone hurts within. sometimes I'm amazed, and afraid how easy it is to hurt people, with a look or a glance or an offhanded word or two. you leave marks and bruises on them if you handle them carelessly. the realization feels like a tender sweet cloud, filling in the space between me and them. like an airbag, a pinprick could destroy. and I feel myself becoming weightless so that destruction becomes inconceivable. even in self defense. cos I do hurt them the most who hurt me. be careful what you do to them. your fingerprints could last on their skin forever. they could continue to shiver even after you warm them in your arms. you could see the pain in their eyes even though they're pretending its nothing, and you're helping them pretend. always treasure those who you can hurt, they love you the most. and don't test it.
I had a different day. it was golden and windy. such that my bare shoulders were warm, my feet hot insider my favorite leather shoes, but my armpits dry with the cool breeze. my hair danced around my face, free, impossible to catch and settle down. and my smile felt to me like friendship and conversation and affection.
and now I think back. to a story I heard today. a 16 yr old girl marrying, visiting his family, wearing a burqa. doing things, conforming, for what? foreign, yet familiar. cos she's grown up on the other side of the world in a culture where women could be killed for honor. there, where they were property too, but exhibits. and here, where exhibition is a sin. people are the same everywhere. deep down.
by myself I hear and sense better. I realize more. I feel different, like I'm more myself. all definitions blur and the days are open for experiments. I don't have to sleep at night if I can't. even if my body aches as if I've been wrestling a strong enemy. morning doesn't happen at a specific time. nor do meals, and schedules don't survive. I don't have to celebrate crossing a hurdle if I don't feel the need for celebration. I allow myself wider error gap. its all ok. I needn't conform to what you agree. or those you like. I become white noise. I can err, hugely, widely, and know I'll return to self acceptance. I know I'll be fine, and yes I don't need anyone telling me that.
I speak with people differently. and I talk to different people. I realize how little I know about some. people are the same everywhere. its easy to reach them, to touch them, only if you care to. everyone has a history. something they are not sure they don't regret. but it makes them. everyone hurts within. sometimes I'm amazed, and afraid how easy it is to hurt people, with a look or a glance or an offhanded word or two. you leave marks and bruises on them if you handle them carelessly. the realization feels like a tender sweet cloud, filling in the space between me and them. like an airbag, a pinprick could destroy. and I feel myself becoming weightless so that destruction becomes inconceivable. even in self defense. cos I do hurt them the most who hurt me. be careful what you do to them. your fingerprints could last on their skin forever. they could continue to shiver even after you warm them in your arms. you could see the pain in their eyes even though they're pretending its nothing, and you're helping them pretend. always treasure those who you can hurt, they love you the most. and don't test it.
I had a different day. it was golden and windy. such that my bare shoulders were warm, my feet hot insider my favorite leather shoes, but my armpits dry with the cool breeze. my hair danced around my face, free, impossible to catch and settle down. and my smile felt to me like friendship and conversation and affection.
and now I think back. to a story I heard today. a 16 yr old girl marrying, visiting his family, wearing a burqa. doing things, conforming, for what? foreign, yet familiar. cos she's grown up on the other side of the world in a culture where women could be killed for honor. there, where they were property too, but exhibits. and here, where exhibition is a sin. people are the same everywhere. deep down.
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