If I could, I’d give the world a weighted blanket; something like a quilt of leaves without the wetness. If I could, I’d give the world a weighted blanket to drape over our wanting skin; to comfort us through storming times. If I could, I’d wrap moments in this blanket, not to rid of struggle, but to inspire: there was a time we felt safe. I think of fast beating hearts, nervous systems seizing at the sound of thunder-clap, beings in post trauma danger loops. I think of pets who need thundervests just to survive a storm, people who need pets just to survive a storm. We all need something to remind us of our bones…something keeping our weight here and involved.
If I could, I’d give the world a weighted blanket; something to contain us.
I walked the streets of New York this past weekend wrapped up in my “New York Coat” – grey, scractchy unpenetrable to grime. A coat that contains me, like the NYPD contained the protest down Broadway. In a single moment thousands of us move one way, thousands of us move another. I’ve seen whole cultures of life, colonies of bacteria diverge under the introduction of a drop of something acidic. Groups organized on each side of the petri dish seperated by the stimulus shock. Trauma is like this: who goes back to the center for fear of the atomic drop?
If I could, I’d give the world a weighted blanket; something to assuage us.
Allison for the PGM