“Fuck off” she says, “fuck off with your words”. As she says it the shock of it flashes a smile across my face, I’m thrown. She means it. I would like to fuck off.
I’ve walked up to her all open faced, arms spread in offering. Why is that? To build a path to trust. I wonder about treading that path. Do I have the right to go prying and poking and asking “how do you feel?” When the walls around her are there for good reason? Plus I am going to just fuck off at the end of the day. I can’t continue this relationship. I’m opening something up. I’m going to loose her too. I’ve felt connected and I will also have to say goodbye.
Her “Fuck off” mirrors my own doubts. The tentative steps I’m taking on ground that is still so unfamiliar to me.
What was it for? Who is this for? Are we trying to make sense? Does it comfort us to do that? To create patterns around people, put their words into neat stories, reflect emotions that make sense to us? What is this? Why are we doing that? Are we celebrating and validating where they really are enough? Shouldn’t the poems be a true reflection of that?
Am I projecting my own experience onto that person in an oppressive way? The poems will inevitably be a reflection of both of us. Although I’ll try to stay as close to what that person ‘meant’ or ‘felt’ as possible it is after all only my own perception of that and still follows a logic that may not be accessible to that person. Am I seeing what I want to see? Is the idea that I might not be able to relate in a way I understand just too terrifying? What am I trying to find? Am I searching for the part of that person which is still like me? I feel as though I am acting as translator but I can’t speak the language. I would like to reflect their experience.
I wonder if the answer is that I am there to observe. To be a witness in the truest sense for that person. Without judgement. I have to trust my instincts. I have to trust that the sensations that arise, the feelings I experience as she talks are a true reflection of her. I guess I just have to be human. I feel foolish. I feel vulnerable. You could just lead me anywhere because I don’t know where I’m going either. You could just tell me to fuck off.
That’s beautiful. Maybe I have a taste of what you feel- the vulnerability- the attempt to relate- not knowing quite how- how to find the words- not being able to find you all the time- but sometimes… sometimes I feel connected to you and it’s just simple. It’s a look and a touch. I’m there with you. Really there in all it’s delicacy. Maybe I won’t get it right, maybe I’ll fuck it up but all that means is I’m really attempting to make myself available for you.
I know it may not sound like it but I am loving having all these questions! I trust in this process completely. The answers will come and beneath the nagging thoughts I have a deep sense of the impact the work has. The support around me is great- the fact that I can ask these questions so openly is a testament to that. This work is like nothing else on earth- I love it and I’m learning fast!
You can tell me to fuck off but I’m coming back if you’ll have me.
Pippa Wildwood