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Family of Origin
That "why." Do we ever really know? Why does it matter?
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<blockquote data-quote="New Leaf" data-source="post: 673324" data-attributes="member: 19522"><p>Thank you Cedar, I think you are correct about the benefit, I already have learned so much and continue to. It is a strange mix of emotions. Thank you. Thank you to all of my sisters here. </p><p>I will look forward to the forecasted resurrection of that thread, unlike the recent mysterious popping up thread. Ahem.</p><p></p><p> Cedar, I go through this, too. Frequently. Attilla was a<em> model</em>, Cedar, thin and lovely and tanned and beautiful. </p><p>( play the Ipanema song)</p><p>I could never be as thin as she. I have an athletes body, thick and sturdy, and muscled when I am active. When I am not intensely training, I am a bear in hibernation. I have to accept the naturalness of it. Embrace and love my winter fluffiness. </p><p>My body in rest phase, ready to reawaken in spring. Hahaha. </p><p>My husband is lucky, I think now. He has had so many different wives in me, as I tried to keep up with my sister. Huh. I could never be her. Nor do I want to, anymore.</p><p> I didn't even have a name, I was "Attillas sister". That is what she wanted all along. Not only with her friends, but in the family, too.</p><p>To annihilate me with her presence. To swallow me.</p><p></p><p>She needed to be the mountain, and I, the valley in her umbra.</p><p></p><p>I am the valley, but not to her description.</p><p>I am shaded and moist, luscious in growth, rivulets, streaming from the mountain side, feeding, enriching my flora and fauna.</p><p> The shadow has not enveloped me. I grow stronger, more confident and still, in the lengthened morning birdsong. Neath the mountains cloak, the new days beginnings stretch on for hours, cooled in the shade, as the sun burns on the plains. Her adumbrate does not define me anymore, I think and learn in the stillness. I will rest in the shade of it, turn the grayness of it into a curtain, filtering the harsh rays of the sun. Ferns grow everywhere and fragile, many hued fragrant blossoms reach their faces to the sky. I grow shadow plants, kale, collards and broccoli, rich in nutrients, flavored with pungent sweet bitterness. </p><p>I am the valley and the mountain shall not over shadow me.</p><p></p><p> We are too puzzling to them, Cedar. We have been fearful, but we mirrored their fear, their fear of us being who we are capable of being. They saw it as a threat, our rise into our becoming. As much as we celebrate one another's emergence from our cocoon, it was and is a threat to them. </p><p>We shall not let that stop us from breaking free, and sitting on the shady limb drying our fragile, moistened wings in the dappled sunlight. </p><p>We are getting there, I see it and feel it.</p><p>Hallelujah </p><p></p><p>Leafy</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="New Leaf, post: 673324, member: 19522"] Thank you Cedar, I think you are correct about the benefit, I already have learned so much and continue to. It is a strange mix of emotions. Thank you. Thank you to all of my sisters here. I will look forward to the forecasted resurrection of that thread, unlike the recent mysterious popping up thread. Ahem. Cedar, I go through this, too. Frequently. Attilla was a[I] model[/I], Cedar, thin and lovely and tanned and beautiful. ( play the Ipanema song) I could never be as thin as she. I have an athletes body, thick and sturdy, and muscled when I am active. When I am not intensely training, I am a bear in hibernation. I have to accept the naturalness of it. Embrace and love my winter fluffiness. My body in rest phase, ready to reawaken in spring. Hahaha. My husband is lucky, I think now. He has had so many different wives in me, as I tried to keep up with my sister. Huh. I could never be her. Nor do I want to, anymore. I didn't even have a name, I was "Attillas sister". That is what she wanted all along. Not only with her friends, but in the family, too. To annihilate me with her presence. To swallow me. She needed to be the mountain, and I, the valley in her umbra. I am the valley, but not to her description. I am shaded and moist, luscious in growth, rivulets, streaming from the mountain side, feeding, enriching my flora and fauna. The shadow has not enveloped me. I grow stronger, more confident and still, in the lengthened morning birdsong. Neath the mountains cloak, the new days beginnings stretch on for hours, cooled in the shade, as the sun burns on the plains. Her adumbrate does not define me anymore, I think and learn in the stillness. I will rest in the shade of it, turn the grayness of it into a curtain, filtering the harsh rays of the sun. Ferns grow everywhere and fragile, many hued fragrant blossoms reach their faces to the sky. I grow shadow plants, kale, collards and broccoli, rich in nutrients, flavored with pungent sweet bitterness. I am the valley and the mountain shall not over shadow me. We are too puzzling to them, Cedar. We have been fearful, but we mirrored their fear, their fear of us being who we are capable of being. They saw it as a threat, our rise into our becoming. As much as we celebrate one another's emergence from our cocoon, it was and is a threat to them. We shall not let that stop us from breaking free, and sitting on the shady limb drying our fragile, moistened wings in the dappled sunlight. We are getting there, I see it and feel it. Hallelujah Leafy [/QUOTE]
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That "why." Do we ever really know? Why does it matter?
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