DATURA
9.24.20
You will be ambidextrous.
After taking one on the chin, your submissive hand will let her forehead be kissed by the dominant palm.
That type of Ying-Yang union, the unnameable subtleness in pressure change when Air plays Venae Cavae to Fire’s bloodlines. Phileas Fogg recognized the arterial trunk in these two secrete lovers; even went as far as ballooning his legacy on the skyways of their alliance.
Same way you fit in your body. Your bones, patient bones, hold your body content. Ever the reliable tranquility which (unless cremated) will lay still in their resting place long after your soul has left. This rock, soil, Earth, mineral, bone of you will syndicate with the Water of your skin. That Water that can never stay still. It plays butterfly to your muscles, always rushing somewhere else; restless, talkative and curious. It still wants to meet my own skin even when it begins to show scarred attempts to elope with gravity, or time. Sometimes gravity and time.
I need you like this. See, some frog diced my central nervous system like an onion some time ago. Rattlesnake tongues finished their tango on the floor of my eyes. To this day, my brain cries after failing to pilot its own ship. It’s still surprised when it finds itself docked at inappropriate ports. Call it the curse of the Water-Bearer to carry the blessing (or curse) of imagination, and to be exposed without preparation to a life outside its own containment.
So when I mistake a warning for friendly advice, when I picket fence non-conformity, when my left brain growls Cerberus at my right; sooth me tender, pst pst pst me back to the porch of your acceptance, leave the string-lights on at night for me. The ones with the “I see you,” and “you’re safe here,” light-bulbs. Lend me your eyes as mirrors, those eyes that recognize my prowl is more run away, than pounce. They know the bearing of teeth is really just a lost smile trying to find its way back home.
“All creatures must learn that there exist predators. Without this knowing, a woman will be unable to negotiate safely within her own forest without being devoured. To understand the predator is to become a mature animal who is not vulnerable out of naivete, inexperience, or foolishness.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype