Recently, my son offered to share the lone paint brush we could locate in our messy kitchen/craft space. In fact, I'm pretty sure, for him, it was the more ideal option. He was not opposed to hand over hand painting. To be subsumed is closeness for him. Let's do this together, as close as humanly possible. My daughter wants to do most things separately--apart. She wants to be admired, adored from a slight distance. Both of them want to be close but the terms of measuring distance are different. One measures the distance in molecules, the other in dimensions.
We talk to ourselves everyday, all day (and night) for the whole of our lives. We started talking to ourselves before we knew we were a self, we forget what we said because we forget everything from before...when we were too young and busy developing our brain to remember those early years. There is still lingering residue of long forgotten conversations I have had with myself as a toddler sitting around in the crevices...sloughing off occasionally into words I tell myself still. We talk non-stop, and not just with dialogue. Our goosebumps communicate to us, our tingly feelings, our neurons, our peripheal vision. They are all submitting data into our self and expecting us to react, respond or all to often, expecting what they are sending us will be ignored. After all that talking, you'd think we'd know what we think about most things, but occasionally we are stumped. Unless we stop what we are doing and really concentrate sometimes that voice(s) ...
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