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Sunday, October 25, 2015. I haven’t felt calm enough to muse since I wrote this post that sits here on my computer – waiting. Erase or post? Well, I might as well put it online and be done with this. Until next time….
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Friday, October 22, 2015.
Muse. Musing.
ntransitive verb
1
: to become absorbed in thought; especially : to turn something over in the mind meditatively and often inconclusively
2
transitive verb
: to think or say reflectively
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I am reminded that the core of “cognition, to cognate” is female. Of “the mother.” Muses? Female? Contemplate. Contemplative.
I would say as “of the moon.” Reflective of light within. Inner light reflecting inner light.
Always with a tinge of The Great Mystery.” Things unseen. Things unknown. Not a Mountain Goat surety of step and climb. More of a slippery thing. More about things that are wet rather than hot and dry.
Not a far flung reaching for the sun. More of a depths-plumbing experience. Perhaps more gentle. Perhaps a kind of inner whispering.
Not grapping or gripping. Not even grappling. A kind of holding things loosely. A kind of active watching. Wandering without demands. But, yes, with questioning! With curiosity. A kind of puzzling things out.
A process of defining. Defining shapes of processes that don’t even need to be delineated with concretized boundaries. Process. Construction in process.
Kind of sounds like life.
Kind of like “mothering.”
A kind of safe and protective ALLOWING of “things” to evolve, to show themselves without critique or control. Gentle. With pride and encouragement and joy.
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No confusions. No predictions. And yet the nurturing-ground is CHAOS in its purest forms. No fear.
Very much like pure play. The same required conditions present for both processes. Signaling an “OK enough” condition in “the world” during such moments of time.
This is about having a home. Being at home in one’s self in the world. Blossoming. Or, on the other end of seasons, about preparing the ground for the resting time of winter.
No pushing thoughts around. Letting them appear in images, in sensations, through the senses. As memories – past and future moving through the now.
I think it’s important, helpful, significant to NOTICE these times of wandering wondering – to recognize them – and even to cherish them. They happen in the absence of immediate toxic stress pressure. We are feeling degrees of peacefulness, of calmness, of safety and security when these moments appear.
They might not stay very long. That’s OK. That’s the wonder-full thing about daydreams. No pressure!
These moments will return again like the small gifts of life that they are. Our inner selfie time. Our a’musing time. These are times we are not lost to our self. In fact, I think we are MOST present WITH our self.
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By my own definition I do NOT include stress-filled-thoughts/feelings in this category of thinking-without-THINKING (passive-instead-of-active)! Yet inspirations can certainly appear during these times that seem to magically help us resolve difficulties we face.
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Story Without Words: How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?
It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.
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Tags: adult attachment disorders, adult reactive attachment disorder, anxiety disorders,borderline mother, borderline personality disorder, brain development, child abuse,depression,derealization, disorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorder, empathy, infant abuse, Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factors, PTSD, resiliency, resiliency factors, risk factors, shame
Stop the Storm 