Unlocking the Secret Levels of Love


(Why am I naming days?)

8/27/14, Day, 13,994 (Mercena Day 13): Unlocking the Secret Levels of Love

It may be one of the inescapable truths of my Mario and Zelda-struck generation that we can never quite shake the faith that existence really does have secret levels, other worlds to be unlocked through the right combination of luck, persistence and skilled key strokes (or just cheat codes).

Or so it seemed yesterday when Mercena, lying on my chest for one of her naps, nestled her head into a particular sweet spot over my heart that unlocked a secret level of love. I heard that Zelda secret door music, and something sprung open within me; a flood of warmth welled up and poured out, and it went on that way for what felt like hours.

Now, I know it’s just the oxytocin talking, but it really does feel that things have shifted since then.  It used to be when Mercena would get fussy or have a total meltdown, she wasn’t quite sure if the the capricious giants who carried her about were friends or foes. Now, it feels as though she understands we’re there to help, and she works with us rather than against us to soothe the rough edges.

Maybe it’s the ocarina she discovered after unlocking this secret level of love; or maybe it’s just a good couple of days and nights. Either way, we’ll take it.

In other news from yesterday, we had a fun visit from Heather O’Brien, and went for a walk to the bank and grocery store with a contented, Ergo-ed Mercena along for the ride.

I was also able to sneak in a fair amount of Flux work, though at the cost of getting any writing done. However, a poem in my Poetry magazine may have inspired a simpler new play I can work on while I continue the task of plotting this massive new space play I’m working on. This newer idea may also be my response to The Violent Bear It Away.

Little by little, I’m finding the wreckage of my old life on this new shore, and reassembling the parts that still matter; though of course, nothing is exactly as it was…everything has suffered a sea change, and become something rich and strange…

Technique never stands still: it only advances or retreats…

Writing: 128 out of 163 days
Spanish: 120 out of 163 days
Music: 32 out of 68 days

What small things did I do yesterday to help build the Honeycomb?
(And what does it mean to “Help build the honeycomb?”)

Published by CorinnaSchulenburg

Artist and Activist

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