My Beautiful Mystery

i discovered, as an auditorily centered individual, that I am a receiver. That is what has made it possible to read Kid O the way I do. Of course, she is my heart, so why wouldn't I? It is not telepathy. But when you take care of someone, and they cannot speak and they came from you, concentration is everything.I have always had to work harder at figuring out what she needed. I was determined to figure it out. I remember looking deep into her eyes. Almost as if I were connecting soul to soul. You'd think that when a woman carries a being for close to nine months, it's be second nature. But it's not, especially early on. There is no common language. She was and remains my beautiful mystery.

There is sad violin music that accompanies us. A single refrain. Sad, lonely, imploring. Beseeching her to please speak. It is not so tragic, but it was at the beginning. I felt it deeply. I was felt such desperation. To bring a being into the world and never be given the chance to hear her voice... utterly heartbreaking. At least at first. I did wonder, in a self-centered fog, did I do something wrong? Not why her but why me. I still wonder that sometimes, but the feeling has diminished over time. There is communication. Just not in the conventional sense. I discovered, over time, I needed to listen with my eyes. I needed to look into her eyes, and, when I did, the spark of being was undeniable. They say that speech is God's alone to give, but the divine spark is within her if one but pay strict attention. I had to pay strict attention in order to discover what she needed. And, later on, to understand her as a person. How can anyone deny her humanity? And, yet, under the misconception thatspeech is what makes a person human, many overlook it. And that is what I battle against year in and year out. That outrageous ignorance. It is maddening.