Quote from: HappyMoni on September 10, 2016, 09:40:49 PM
Dear Alycya,
It is nice to see how you seem more optimistic or confident as this post has progressed. I thought I would let you know I liked your swirling leaves story. In my younger years, I had dreams of walking through the woods and finding a pond or stream that had the magical power to change me into a girl. It was a happy yet frustrating thought.
Moni
Dearest Moni,
i think that when we were children we were much more free from social conditionings, and what we already were inside us could express itself very much easily.
I remember that before to go to primary school, i used to paint portraits of girls, i remember i had those big sheets of paper and colors, and i painted the face of a girl, with long hair braids - just the face, like there was a mirror in front of me instead of a piece of paper.
My parents were a bit puzzled because i did it very often. I remember their comments, they said that the drawings were nice, but they wondered why i painted the face of a girl so often.
When i started to go to school my drawings changed, i started to draw a "mechanical" male face, like the one of a robot, it was very "spiky", no more rounded, and divided in sections kept together by screws.
I think that the change is very significant because i started to do that kind of drawing just when i had to start to keep a certain social behavior as a "boy".
The face of the girl was graceful and natural, the "male" version was the representation of an artificial "forcing".
I'm not sure why I'm sharing this episode lol, but i think it's quiet significant.
Maybe I'm writing about that because when we were children we perceive the world as a "magical" place full of possibilities ... with no boundaries ...
The frustration comes when we start to believe at what "they" tried to "taught" us about how the so called "reality" has to be perceived: divided in "possible" and "impossible", and divided in so many other ways ...
In that division all dreams (alternate possibilities) crumbles and we start to feel like robots with a program to perform: all poetry has gone.
This is sad, and it's sad because it's a lie. Truth is never sad, truth is always joyful.
We are not born to be robot-like, we are living mysteries, and with the birthright to fully live the mystery we are without boundaries and pre-cooked definitions.
I believe that that magical pound is still there

Hugs,
Aly