imbolc I

First year I celebrate it, my appropriative faux-syncretist Imbolc appropriately was exactly as not expected, which is to be expected. There was some drama which I am still unpacking, with issues colliding where I suppose everyone involved had hoped for synergy rather than malergy. I was nowhere near as graceful as I would like to have been, but think I did not do significant damage at least.

As for damage sustained, much more was gained than lost. At Imbolc is the Goddess in her Maiden state, naïvely receiving, adoring, fully open to being hurt and disappointed, and certainly not wise yet. So she makes mistakes and she hurts and she is hurt, and it is only through these experiences that she can come to understand her dynamics and learn to go beyond them when desired.

I’ll say that whether justified or not, at this point it would be counter-productive of me to not feel all I can feel. I must wallow in every cascade, every implication. Already I discovered new things, including facets of emotion I was not aware were there. It does not matter if they are desirable or not. I must stop censoring, and only after I have done that can I do other, more complex processing; how else will I be able to unlock emotion more generally? Two avatars of Chaos have both demonstrated this to me in words and action; both have hurt me in similar ways and I have love for them both.

All such aside, a dear friend suggested to me strategies for motion and increased body awareness. I took her up on some – for the first time today I was jogging (all right, briskly walking) to the Babylon Main Station, trying along the way to stay aware primarily of my body. It was exactly as hard as expected and I often lapsed, but I did sense the interconnectness much better while in motion (contra to body scanning lying down). Most interesting, and valuable going forward, was that there exists some extent of (controllable) hip sideways motion when moving. Not only can I sense this but also control it, and I could try to habitualize its increase.

Arriving at the station, this day I was all right out of bed without makeup, no shaving (but no stubble is visible since some time now), in old pre-transition bulky black exercise clothes. This too very much an emotional and social experiment which will be repeated. I was not really gendered either way, so I can’t assess it, but from mirrors, I think that if anyone reads me as male, it will be as a tall pre-teen effeminate boy. It probably confuses, and some fraction also probably saw a woman as they passed me. Since otherwise I never go out without makeup this may be a useful recurring experiment.

Did not take a sports bra on in the hope of feeling jiggling; I did not. But the body scanning approach while running seems like something I could slowly get better at, and I could also do it standing or walking.

We move.