But I have seen Mallory while she doesn't think anyone is watching. I have seen her cry, laugh, create, philosophize, be lazy, ramble, curse, scream...
She wants to feel solid. She wants to know that she'll sink in water but not drown. She wants to know that she'll fly out when needed. She wants to know she's safe. That she can weight something down, and just as easily roll off. That she can be cleaned for the filth she picks up.
I have seen Mallory. She is restless. She needs more elements in her life. Of fire to not just keep her warm, but to burn away anything weighing her down like a stone. For water to wash it away. For air to lift her up, have her travel, and to find new earth upon her feet, below her feet, mixed between her toes. She wants to look up at new skies, to compare how her old ones felt, to realize and know the difference between a cage, a prison, and the chalk boundaries she put up herself.
I watch her as she loses herself in attempting the perfection when she really wants to take off her pants and call it a day. Pants are so binding for her, and that's what she wants--to fly free, plunging deep into life, pantless.
(quick writing from a retreat)