it's a tiny sliver, a wisp, a hope...
it started with a passing glance, a brush of the fingers, a few casually uttered words... slowly, slowly...
a tingle at the nape of the neck, a flutter in the breath, a frisson down the back...
a quickening of the heart, a dizzyness in thought... faster, faster...
meeting, meshing, melding
now a little sliver
very little, very very little
but strong.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
The Million Masks We Wear…
We start life in a mask, the mask that protects us in the womb, keeping the world, out, and keeping us safe in.
At birth, this mask is peeled away, and we enter the world, ready to put on the first of many masks.
The first masks of childhood are reactionary, a response to external impulses and stimuli. Early on we learn that there are certain reactions expected of us, and soon we are adept at simulating these likely motions, mask automatically in place.
As the world teaches her lessons, we learn that we can use masks not only to hide, but also to project a certain mood or message. We learn that we can hide disapproval behind our eyes, and carry it further with a false smile and fancy words. We learn to use these masks to please, to coax, to cajole, and to get what we want.
And so you see a darling child, eyes rounded, lip trembling, angelic cheeks flushing… for that new toy her heart is set on.
You see a young lad, brash, rowdy, foul-mouthed… whose teachers fail to see that it is dyslexia that prevents him from articulating his intelligence.
You see a pretty young thing, eyelashes a-flutter, head tilted to a side, bow-lips pouting… bringing a strapping young hunk to his knees.
You see a father, eyebrows lined up, vein in his cheek throbbing, teeth clenched under his smiling face… wondering if he will get that raise he needs so desperately to buy his family their dream home.
You see a wife, eyes flashing, brow furrowed, lips pursed in anger… wanting nothing more than to be held in her moment of need by the man she loves.
You see a man, eyes cold, head held high and imperious, mouth set… not able to let his hands follow his heart, to reach out, and draw the woman he loves close to him.
At birth, this mask is peeled away, and we enter the world, ready to put on the first of many masks.
The first masks of childhood are reactionary, a response to external impulses and stimuli. Early on we learn that there are certain reactions expected of us, and soon we are adept at simulating these likely motions, mask automatically in place.
As the world teaches her lessons, we learn that we can use masks not only to hide, but also to project a certain mood or message. We learn that we can hide disapproval behind our eyes, and carry it further with a false smile and fancy words. We learn to use these masks to please, to coax, to cajole, and to get what we want.
And so you see a darling child, eyes rounded, lip trembling, angelic cheeks flushing… for that new toy her heart is set on.
You see a young lad, brash, rowdy, foul-mouthed… whose teachers fail to see that it is dyslexia that prevents him from articulating his intelligence.
You see a pretty young thing, eyelashes a-flutter, head tilted to a side, bow-lips pouting… bringing a strapping young hunk to his knees.
You see a father, eyebrows lined up, vein in his cheek throbbing, teeth clenched under his smiling face… wondering if he will get that raise he needs so desperately to buy his family their dream home.
You see a wife, eyes flashing, brow furrowed, lips pursed in anger… wanting nothing more than to be held in her moment of need by the man she loves.
You see a man, eyes cold, head held high and imperious, mouth set… not able to let his hands follow his heart, to reach out, and draw the woman he loves close to him.
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