24 mars 2020

i am not safe when my safety is designed by somebody else.

especially if that person designs my safety in a way that makes them feel safe.

that imposed safety is a form of violence.

because of COVID-19 and the fact that i might loose my housing on June 30, 2020,

i feel closer to death.

i know i have to surrender to my intuition.

i try to release old trauma.

i try to release old habits.

i get rid of old material stuff.

i think of repressed desires for resolve.

before i die, i would like that Nick Torok and i acknowledge that we were not ready.

is that exactly what i want?

i try to accept change.

i understand safety in a different way.

and then,

i panic.

 

wind and arrows fill the space between my bones.

my skeleton extends even more out of balance.

no housing is not an option.

no community is not an option.

 

i work all my energy to save our housing.

i worry about getting sick.

i worry about safety procedures.

i worry about my parents in Switzerland.

 

and then, i discipline myself towards allowing myself to love a wheel:

 

sound of a new 27 inch wheel before balancing the tension of the spokes and truing the weel

 

same wheel during the truing process

 

next time it will be louder.