The eyes tell all. I always look to a persons eyes to get a sense of who they are. In some cultures this is behaviour is not acceptable, yet I still steal glimpses. I cannot help myself. The thing I remember most about my two older brothers when we were growing up are their eyes, even when they were raging against the world, when they raged against our parents, each other, or God. I saw it all in their eyes. The little sister who they were supposed to protect but who intimidated, irritated and impositioned them, I saw their despair, their pain, their righteousness and their love. I was too small to protect them, they did, many times protect me and I found ways I could save them, ways they may never know about. All our collective childhood trauma aside something is happening to us all this year. Each of us is suffering from an accident that has physically grounded us, stilled us and forced us to face ourselves, face our inner selves. I am proud to find we are connecting, communicating and expressing love and support to one another despite the difference in each others experience, to heal what appears to me to be a deep seated family trauma. We shared the experiences and have attempted to heal but have found ourselves stuck over and over, unable to communicate through fear, apparent separation and now finally, through the language of pain and acceptance, we have found one another again. Life is oddly synchronous and utterly beautiful.
Ear parcels… “Everyone carries a room about inside them. This fact can be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one’s ears and listens, say at night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.”
Image 1 courtesy of TalesOfNightWing
Image 2 courtesy of Emmixxalot on deviantart