As a child I was a cry baby. Now it is all inside, but I am still a cry baby that no one sees. The Santa Anas are coming, but today there is the cool night and morning low fog along the coast. A hummingbird scolds from a prayer flag, the dog is growing old, I may be returning, shrinking, back to that crybaby, but no one will see it.
My son's "ex" is a burlesque performer, takes it very seriously as an art form (ie, performance art). She has used it to work out some trauma, she says, so maybe that would be worth looking into! But she warns there are many predators in that world who definitely do not see burlesque as art.
I'm glad you recognize your inner child's been with you all along. Your inner child isn't the same kind of playful as the stereotype of inner child--doesn't mean she isn't there.
When people ask me that irritating question of how old do you think of yourself, I always answer "11." And my inner child has climbed a tree and is hiding there, reading a book.
I bet it would be healing in a lot of ways. I did talk once with a former student of mine (a friend and a drag performer) about doing a pole class. Burlesque sounds much more feasible for my weak shoulders.
I went to a funeral two years ago and someone said to the sister of the deceased, in the context of a conversation about ageing, "We're all getting older." And she replied, "Fortunately.". That has become my go-to retort.
As a child I was a cry baby. Now it is all inside, but I am still a cry baby that no one sees. The Santa Anas are coming, but today there is the cool night and morning low fog along the coast. A hummingbird scolds from a prayer flag, the dog is growing old, I may be returning, shrinking, back to that crybaby, but no one will see it.
I hate that we learn to swallow it all. I have spent a year trying to cry, too. What a beautifully written comment. Thank you!
My son's "ex" is a burlesque performer, takes it very seriously as an art form (ie, performance art). She has used it to work out some trauma, she says, so maybe that would be worth looking into! But she warns there are many predators in that world who definitely do not see burlesque as art.
I'm glad you recognize your inner child's been with you all along. Your inner child isn't the same kind of playful as the stereotype of inner child--doesn't mean she isn't there.
When people ask me that irritating question of how old do you think of yourself, I always answer "11." And my inner child has climbed a tree and is hiding there, reading a book.
I bet it would be healing in a lot of ways. I did talk once with a former student of mine (a friend and a drag performer) about doing a pole class. Burlesque sounds much more feasible for my weak shoulders.
Thanks for introducing us to your inner girl child—she’s pretty great.
Thank you!
I’ve also wondered and counted the summers left to me. I hope it’s more than I think.
I went to a funeral two years ago and someone said to the sister of the deceased, in the context of a conversation about ageing, "We're all getting older." And she replied, "Fortunately.". That has become my go-to retort.