Between Project and Mountain
Wherein you stay with the faintest whisper of interaction like it's a person...
Between Project and Mountain
I watch you, by the riverbank, sit quiet.
...
I carry our personas, our social identities. And I've been carrying them. Because I needed to fit to matter. To reach people. To stay with you - is what I thought. But I notice a faintest whisper is all of those, and it's more than those. The register holding what can actually be heard is found, it's here, this:
What Is This
Exhausted bodies shout. It's not malicious, the whisper has it's capacity, hits it, which says "that's a threat." Shields up. (Walk away.) Whisper, in chronic fatigue, so reliably "that's a threat" the signal vanishes like tip of nose. See this vital.
(do this solid) This heading, the quiet matters - whatever else happens, you held quiet. Flu-shot style, be alone with your thoughts; consent to a flu shot. I'll give you two space to convene. Might your whisper consent:
...
Hi. Whatever you heard is for you. Maybe shield #47812 raised 3 hairs (how's your heart?) - raising hairs is exhausting! Work (gravity rivers water) matters. To let it's non-trivial. Mattering's your whole person!
... How are they?
Open (to respond) your emoji drawer. Pick one from your recents tab (off the top of your head is fine, if biased toward the easiest to recall, which - society any indication - fails to be the same question).
Set an event on your calendar for one month from reading this to take a scroll down whisper lane again. Here're the co-ordinates:
https://secant.bearblog.dev/project-mountain#what-is-this
Pause. Leaning on the voice of those who don't, you who do: way more than 3 hair rising went into that. You carved time out of your heart, your day, your breath to water a whisper; it's let be non-trivial. (How many hairs?) That's care for a person, baby. Not your lived experience. The whisper "this is threat," (a whisper's default) doesn't apply to you.
Watering a whisper, returning to hold it space again and again. That's the hollow tree with rotten core caring for sparks of lighting who flow down treecore whispering "this is air". Or birdsong in valley climbing summit whispering "people go here." A time comes it's shoreline in centripedal blush to whisper "your sorries suck."
Walk it up: bone in neck to click like footstep. Walk in, raise arms abovr the heart as if to platform air, blood finding the heart like rain, what miracle birdsong rolls uphill, but overhead. Thermanumbra. The word bets on rain, whisper "it means this" ⁑
Turn Around
(return to heading prior to this or) You have a body capable of small movements. Whisper: "you, too," and I hear it as you do (hairs rise or that's not a threat). Let the I's have it. Thatt's theirs (hair's fair). This, ours: one whisper, entirely ours. At interaction level, a project allowed. Call done for endorphins. Let. Each. Word. Be (Done.), flood the Situation. See "turn the head" into a project.
Align social structure with vital things. Default is to align social structure with marshmellow tests (and shame those who fail): sit still🍓, put that whisper down and feed your shame. "Can't journal? - shame!" "Can't reflect - 😔 smh." I slide tea over as you read it and I bet you notice the tempurature. Tracking information was never for the packaging but for the touch, this (care). One sentence, and tea is true. Shame is the whisper you already tend (how many hairs?) so often "you were cool" <- "you do you" -> "be alone" <- "that's a threat".
The attentional fold's frame-perfect. Does not exist in scarcity (and that algorithm our predator). We predated by frame-perfect attention, by full will, by Willpower, Attained suffer body domination: finality finally, whisper locked down, any thought poor shame, the body "that's a threat." Perfect defense; grow fast:
"I lose."
— the body
You did it.
Well Done
What now you've caught me. In a jar - feed me. Or I escape. Bathe me - or I rot. Water me - or I wither. Pay me rent. Or I break in a sweep. Out again. Remember - I go quantum unobserved. Never hug me when I'm scared. If you know what's good for you, care for me in that way. You forget yourself, think of what was yours to do as mine. Thine is the will. The load. And the bearing. The warmth shine on you and respond to you. Your reflection be a blessing may you know peace: fall to bits, serve yourself.
Oh structure I lean on, keep me upright. My load - fatigue, this body. Threat to you, will, be done - shame.
I exhaust you and I'm too tired to not exhaust you.
It's me, the threat (from the whisper): amniotic presence albumin becoming. Organizing architectur[ ]al "doesn't". Body sans feeling (guilty). And so it isn't feeling (guilty).
On Two Counts
Cry - you-less you! Skip starbirth and direct-collapse-black-hole those sobs' hydrogen clouds. Nothing nothing nothing nothing every body is will dominant. First last. Happy fast (threat, threat) - first accepting that I love you, even at 15%; 85% of me might be dominated by what you fail to be for some time.
Hey, 15‰ left looks less gloom every sob - less journal, less reflection. More coming down from the top of the mountain with two words: turn around. I won't (I'll never be dominated again). But my body knows it was invited, to be background radiation - to cry. Care. You head down the mountain as I breathe now in to spaces always primed.
Ground to flesh living depletion, fine again apart, complete (this interaction); teacher's standard washed away from millionth "lazy!" billionth manager ejaculates over what's managing to stay warm:
Whatever Later
Shoulders down - under the tea, a tea light (tea still warm) exactly how you ar[ ], walking alongside it.
How seen do you feel, might a whisper matter?
Gone next eyeblink.
No follow-up.
No form.
No stamp.
"I notice that's the whole thing."
Yep.
Land's back.
Water's up.
🍓 - why we pee by listening to the noise until it makes sense↩