life is surreal…or i am slightly dissociated, can’t tell. did i sorta leave my body because of too many emotions, or am i feeling the strangeness of life? probably a little of both. i will get fully back into my body this morning. yesterday i took a bus to bellevue, to have a visit with my teacher. out of our conversation emerged an old writing idea. hearing her bring it up as something to write, added more weight to it, and desire was sparked again for the project. this project would turn into a play. as we talked more about soul hunger, i was reminded of being little, at summer camp. twice in our conversation i thought about camp robinhood. once, remembering being in the musicals we put on each year. while everyone hung out in the dorms at night, those of us in the musical would race off to practice. i loved it so much. i can feel a hunger for being part of creating a play, living in my bones. the other memory was of riding my horse, blue…whom i had to earn his respect, by pulling tight on his reigns and giving him a stronger kick. was terribly afraid to do so, but when i followed the teacher’s advise, it worked. blue and i got close, and he became my favorite horse. horses and plays. mutual ideas emerged through present moment talking, and i wish we were sitting some place more beautiful and able to talk longer. i felt my eggshells wall up. not the walls put up due to feeling in danger of somebody’s anger…but the wall that’s put up when i am unsure, and don’t know somebody well enough yet. this is what is being brought up to me first and foremost in my experience with school, oddly. usually the focus of shadow is on more intense subjects, like my tendency to avoid, or steep in shame. but i am not avoiding or steeping in shame, so now my tendency is eggshell walking and hiding behind walls. actually, the eggshell walking wall is a version of avoiding and feeling shame. it must be. i walk on those shells cause i feel shame and i am trying to hide my shame from the other. it’s a pattern on autopilot, from my mother’s mother’s side. time to break it and transform into a walker on soil, fully present…or something like that. i love my school, teachers, cohort, in a way that is wordless and without reason, calm and without mania or glitter. it’s a feeling of being in the right place, around the right people. i stopped in pine box on my walk home, and due to not eating for many hours, and having a strong beer, slipped and fell into a certain old reactivity inside myself, as i doodled feelings onto paper. it’s my mother’s father’s line in me. i can’t talk about here, but i need to make my family tree…today. she said the autobiography we are writing is for us, and to be selfish. ok, will do.