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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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But I can't remember now what happens then
I had a massage this morning--just a half hour--with Lee. I lay there, trying to relax in the hands of this woman who has been touching me more or less regularly for over a year now. I lay there, letting images flow into and out of my head. a set of wooden vertebrae-looking pieces forming a kind of spine that resolved itself first into the center pole of a spiral staircase and then into the bars of a crib that I was sure I had occupied as a very small child inside corners and fragments of inside corners of boxes--?-- nearly a leaf The only way I can relax is to think about Lee. If I try to concentrate on my own response, I tense up. I can feel myself resist and can feel my stomach starting to clench up with fear. Sometimes I want to cry, but mostly I lay there and try to pretend that it isn't happening to me. What else? What else have I lain awake trying to pretend wasn't happening to me?
More lies:
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