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~quiet fire~
Jun. 14th, 2009 06:06 amOne of the most interesting phrases to hear in a conversation is, "... and I'm not sure why I'm telling you this. But..."
It's. I don't know. A verbal tag? that hangs on things that a person needs to vent or needs another person to hear, and for once instead of sitting on that need, they're letting it happen. And that's an awesome and humbling place to be.
Bear was with me last night. Through the talking to strangers, through the making new friends, through the beer-tastings and propane balloons. I felt her when I put my feet on the ground. I felt her when I walked. I felt her in the silences between stories. She sat in my skin and got comfortable.
And for once, I wasn't terrified, wondering how people were responding to the way I was presenting myself to them. I didn't have to worry about being "on."
I just... was.
And it was good.
)O(
They set things on fire, when they get together at Nate's. There's a brush pile that they douse with gasoline and shoot roman candles at. And it flares high and smokes, but it's gone in ten minutes, and barely any of the brush is consumed. Leaves some for next time, I guess. One of these days, though, I'm going to figure out how to lay the foundations for it properly, bring dryer lint or something to feed a little blaze until it grows. Because I'd like to sit with it for a while without worrying something's going to explode.
There are shortcuts in life, apparently, but the cost of them is a frantic burn small enough to ignore.
I'll spend the time, I'll take a longer road. It's worth it for a fire you have to kick apart and dance on to put out.
It's. I don't know. A verbal tag? that hangs on things that a person needs to vent or needs another person to hear, and for once instead of sitting on that need, they're letting it happen. And that's an awesome and humbling place to be.
Bear was with me last night. Through the talking to strangers, through the making new friends, through the beer-tastings and propane balloons. I felt her when I put my feet on the ground. I felt her when I walked. I felt her in the silences between stories. She sat in my skin and got comfortable.
And for once, I wasn't terrified, wondering how people were responding to the way I was presenting myself to them. I didn't have to worry about being "on."
I just... was.
And it was good.
)O(
They set things on fire, when they get together at Nate's. There's a brush pile that they douse with gasoline and shoot roman candles at. And it flares high and smokes, but it's gone in ten minutes, and barely any of the brush is consumed. Leaves some for next time, I guess. One of these days, though, I'm going to figure out how to lay the foundations for it properly, bring dryer lint or something to feed a little blaze until it grows. Because I'd like to sit with it for a while without worrying something's going to explode.
There are shortcuts in life, apparently, but the cost of them is a frantic burn small enough to ignore.
I'll spend the time, I'll take a longer road. It's worth it for a fire you have to kick apart and dance on to put out.
