I can do soma fine, I’m mildly able at emotional stuff, I’m good but terrifyingly finicky about identity, but as for matters of aliveness and vitality: weren’t never allowed to develop a clue, really. (Nor western culture, sad to say: that stratum of being is direly overlooked ’round these parts.) I feel like I’ve been dragged schlepped and yanked out of situations in which my vital body tried to show me what to do at that moment, by a lot of people who made it their business to save me from my dirty lazy dangerous self, way too many times. Oooh weren’t they being selfless for doing that, they thought, I suppose.

Weird that I touch at an image of a kind of fourfold organization of the human again after lo these many years. Well at least I’m not mistaking what identity is as fervently as ol’ Rudi. I hope.