When it all seems too much, when the bond is rife with my emotions and I fear I will never regain control over them, I feel her. The empathic link sends as well as receives, and her message, her emotions match my own, the nostalgia, the yearning, the sorrow and grief. And then they offer a change, a bright dash of colour in amidst the dark abyss, a spotlight of hope, a break of sunshine in the overcast sky, a forecast of smoother weather, sunnier days.
I would never forget where I came from. I gave that advice to Kia myself, did I not? I would always remember where I came from, so that I could accurately measure where I was now, where I was going in the future. Only, the future was unwritten, unknown, and I was scared to cling to any hope when all the hope I did have was washed away by the current tsunami.
Her words reach out to me, my mind clinging to them, wanting to know how she survived this, not once, but multiple times. I had been fortunate in my life, loss and death very few and far between in my young life so far - this was it, this was the biggest change, the biggest adjustment that I have ever known - would it be the biggest forever, I can't help but wonder?
I feel her, and oh, I just want to hold her, to embrace her, to lock away my hurting emotions and to live back in the present, where I can just exist and be present - why did the attuned bond do this to me? Would it always be this way?
She circles me, and my senses prick up once more, the words and the emotion slowly getting through to me, lifting me up and out of my funk. I raise the ribboned paw once more, and I watch her as she comes again with the same attempt as her initial, but this time I see it coming, and I embrace the reflexes that allow me to duck mostly out of its reach. It still glances along my brow, but I move, with far more coordination than I started this session with, bowing mostly out of the way, using this to lean into a deep crouch.
Pushing myself into a leap once more, I hope to pin her down at her shoulder this time, and if successful in doing so, plant a bit kiss on her caracal face with my feline tongue. 'It does suck,' I confirm, agreeing with her, purring despite it all, as the admission is cathartic. I cling to the hope she offers, to the optimism, to the perspective of one who has been through sort of journey before. 'Thanks for helping me find a new path,' I offer with a wave of gratitude, as the emotional outburst settles, still present, but much less overwhelming.
I would never forget where I came from. I gave that advice to Kia myself, did I not? I would always remember where I came from, so that I could accurately measure where I was now, where I was going in the future. Only, the future was unwritten, unknown, and I was scared to cling to any hope when all the hope I did have was washed away by the current tsunami.
Her words reach out to me, my mind clinging to them, wanting to know how she survived this, not once, but multiple times. I had been fortunate in my life, loss and death very few and far between in my young life so far - this was it, this was the biggest change, the biggest adjustment that I have ever known - would it be the biggest forever, I can't help but wonder?
I feel her, and oh, I just want to hold her, to embrace her, to lock away my hurting emotions and to live back in the present, where I can just exist and be present - why did the attuned bond do this to me? Would it always be this way?
She circles me, and my senses prick up once more, the words and the emotion slowly getting through to me, lifting me up and out of my funk. I raise the ribboned paw once more, and I watch her as she comes again with the same attempt as her initial, but this time I see it coming, and I embrace the reflexes that allow me to duck mostly out of its reach. It still glances along my brow, but I move, with far more coordination than I started this session with, bowing mostly out of the way, using this to lean into a deep crouch.
Pushing myself into a leap once more, I hope to pin her down at her shoulder this time, and if successful in doing so, plant a bit kiss on her caracal face with my feline tongue. 'It does suck,' I confirm, agreeing with her, purring despite it all, as the admission is cathartic. I cling to the hope she offers, to the optimism, to the perspective of one who has been through sort of journey before. 'Thanks for helping me find a new path,' I offer with a wave of gratitude, as the emotional outburst settles, still present, but much less overwhelming.
Chulane
fridooh & whimzi @ deviantart
