Day 39 Family past and silence
My great Aunt, after I had spent a week with her, one day blurted out that I was a Riotte. The Riottes were a family line from Costa Rica, half Mayan and half German, well they came from Germany and went to Central America. Their lineage may have been Portuguese jewish - tribe of rabbinical jews - as what my father found in research, I say this because when my aunt said I was a Riotte she also stated why she said this. She said I had the deep quiet of these people, the Riottes. I looked at her in surprise, most people didn’t notice. This was a family trait.
It is a place I go, and I have been there lately. I remember going there when my husband snapped at me just before he died. He had never done this. I went dumb. Silence. Quiet.
Lately, I haven’t wanted to read words, speak words, look at words, see words. I have been here before, words seem tedious, linear, slow, limited. They do not say anything, they don’t express, they are too “flat.”
One time my parents were arguing, and they asked what I thought. I just looked at them and said, you are both saying the same thing. They continued to argue. I was studying music at college at that time, perhaps this has something to do with this, all I did was play music, I had to listen all the time, so I listened to their words and they were the same song, and trying to take the thing apart and explain what was “same” about it seemed an over whelming task.
So, the words are beginning to seem to be saying the same thing again and again and again, and as knowledge and information, they hold no substance. Perhaps here is the problem.
Talking ‘at” people does not work, just playing notes does not work. Becoming the “sound” moves the sound. This in a way is trust, letting it all go and trusting becoming not an “at” but a “with.” Being an “at” is wanting something, being a “with” involves much more physical presence. Does this involve first becoming silent? As there is no other place to go?
A resistance to words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to resist words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to feel that I am ineffective in using words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to feel that words are limited.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to believe that words are useless.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to not realize that perhaps I am avoiding words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to separate my self from words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to feel that I do not know how to use words and that I always admired people who could use words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to believe I cannot know how to use words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to become overwhelmed by words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to believe that using words is difficult.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to fear words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to connect fear to words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to fear my own fear.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to feel that words move too slowly.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to separate my self from words.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to think of words as being a limitation.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting myself to judge words as separate from me, to the point where I go dumb.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to feel that words are pointless.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to believe that becoming silent has something to do with my genes, which means I am not taking responsibility for my self.
I forgive my self for allowing and accepting my self to within this not realize that knowledge and information without application is useless and that it is not the words in and as themselves, but my application with words that is the resistance.
I commit my self to keep going, reading and speaking words, even at this point where I am resisting words.
I commit my self to pushing through this resistance to words.
I commit my self to pushing my self to read another blog tonight after I write this post, to face words.
I commit my self to pushing through this resistance to words and realize that what I resist persists.
I commit my self to become more aware of the words I use, and to use words within the principle of oneness in equality.
I commit my self to realize that within debates with others and understanding of words used has to be established or communication becomes assumptions ill defined leading to two people talking at one another without an effort put into understanding goes no where.
I commit my self to realizing that sometimes the habitual no longer works and that what ensues is a process of deconstruction, and that this necessitates a silence as the existent patterns no longer serve a purpose and here, all one can do is jump.
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