Forgive us if we seem to you like men. It is a shell, it’s only how we seem For so long our real selves were just a dream or shame and weakness, glimpsed then fled, again Girlish, girlishness was danger, then the mannish act was habit, or a scheme to fool the world, and hide, till our extreme desire overcame us, til the moment when we could deny no more. That was the start. I feared too much to claim my womanhood. Old habits stick. I cannot simply be If you expect a man, I play that part. The gentle, peaceful self, half-understood will flower in time. I know I will be free.
Sometimes, I hear you speak as the analyst and I analyse what you say. Sometimes, you speak from the heart and I hear. It is beautiful. Nothing to say, nothing to do, just to be with you in your words. I love this part of you that just is. No more, no less, just right.
Clare Flourish 
Sometimes, I hear you speak as the analyst and I analyse what you say. Sometimes, you speak from the heart and I hear. It is beautiful. Nothing to say, nothing to do, just to be with you in your words. I love this part of you that just is. No more, no less, just right.
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Thank you.
I have been wrestling with “the part that just is”.
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Claire
I would be interested to hear your thoughts on Rites of Passage within the context of your life?
Andrew
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I have had experiences which changed me, or freed me to be more me, but no formal rite of passage has had that effect on me.
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Reblogged this on My Blog and commented:
Why can’t we just let go our expectations of other people, and release the true selves that are weeping to be heard?
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Beautiful!
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