'And seeing the snail, which everywhere doth roam,John Donne
Carrying his own house still, still is at home, Follow (for he is easy paced) this snail,
Be thine own palace, or the world's thy gaol.'*
Barbarian that I am, poetry doesnt usually speak to my soul, but this snippet of a larger whole grabbed me and won't let go.
Trying to mingle two separate genders into a living breathing whole is more akin to a juggling act than a mixing bowl. Indiscriminate mixing of my genders won't give me a crystal clear self, only a muddled jumble self, not what I'm after at all.
What I'm seeking is a partnership rather than a hostile takeover. I want a love match. I want to love the totality of me, not just the parts and bits that I'm comfortable with.
I want my inner life to be as rich as a palace, hung with draperies, piled with cushions, carpeted with soft soft grass, lavished with gardens of tree and flower. Quiet places softened with the tinkling sound of fountains and birdsong.
To be content.
At peace with this body, that's what I'm seeking.
*For the full version of the poem