ninji

i had a brief chat with my cognitive therapist yesterday, thankfully. it was right before i went out clubbing and had what could have been a disastrous experience in rejection had it not been for this exercise i'm about to describe.

pre-club. my cog-therapist and i, we walked backwards. backwards in time. all about my feelings of not belonging. why i painted myself into a corner at times. "when is the last time you felt this way?" she asked me, "and the time before that?" and back. and back. "now, when is the first time you remember feeling this way-- like you didn't fit in? like you painted yourself into a corner."

we peeled back a couple of layers. finally of course tracing it to childhood. feeling criticized for things i did, or did not do. feeling criticized and punished for being. even, merely, for breathing. of course all of the night's events tied into this "passed." past. job dynamics. past relationships. ways and means of ninjiness. we walked backwards in time, my therapist healer and i, to an episode where my mother was disapproving. and i took new watercolors and painted her, loving and adoring me. different than she was, and than she is. i'm going to have to do this many, many times, but it's nice to be a painter in this way: self-soothing and healing this pattern so that i can go on to the next good thought in my life.

i've been listening to thomas moore this week. moore is a spiritualist who believes that we are creative beings. that art can save us. he had said that we are here on the planet to fill in the blanks for each other with lessons in life, and love. that our birth family only serves a small purpose for us. getting us out of the nest as it were. that friends and other acquaintances fill in the blanks for us about things we didn't learn as children, that we needed to. if we didn't have those models for self love, for healthy relationships. for natural, healthy sexuality, that we reach out to one another and compare notes. put the pieces together. fill in the holes with honey. miracles. treacle. glitter. party favors. i am paraphrasing, most certainly.

we are healing agents for one another. salves. whether we do it with sex, or sense, or words, or wills, it doesn't really matter. hugs or handshakes, lessons or laughter, we're all just gathered around this little hearth, doing our best to make ourselves and one another feel comfortable. even a compulsive, less than pleasant habit is an attempt to find a pleasure space.sometimes we are just misled and we just need to know it's going to be okay. and that we are not so frigging alone. know that we can reach out and ask for help / health / hearth.

we can reach out and ask for help, and health, and hearth.

and heart.

and healing.