venusundae | woes of the J in INFJ (Reply)

Can profound realizations really be found in such formless, swirling clouds? I think so. Where I used to think that I needed something heavy, something real to hold in my hand, to feel weight me down and prove itself to me by marks in my hand from gripping it so tight... I now see that I was thinking too small and narrow.
Once I wanted to find a definition for who I am and what I felt. One for every differing emotion and memory, that could be sorted and organized in a tidy way. For this thing that I am feeling now, I would want to find a rock, no bigger than my palm. And I can see it now, its a deep magenta color - perhaps a bit gaudy if colored anywhere but upon raw earth - with gold specks peppered all within it. And if I held it tight enough it would leave little pink indents in my hand from its bumpy surface. It had to be something real, something solid. Something I could throw.
If I threw this rock it would shatter. Every crumbly joint within in flying open and bursting through the air, where a mist of color would sparkle in the sunlight, right before me. It would twirl and dance around, hovering there, waiting to be found. Just like the rock would wait, shimmering curiously with every step you took around it. I could step into this cloud if I wanted. I could breathe it in without a cough because it's mine and it's me and it was mine to find. And I could dance right inside of it, just like it's own shimmering patterns, and just know. Just understand it this thing that I've realized that has no complete words for it, just that it's beautiful and what everyone longs to find for themselves.
It is this understanding of who I am, even just this little part of a vast "person" that could be rendered in many stones over a lifetime, and there would always be room for more.
So I have been looking, all this time, for special rocks that call out to me, that are unique and physical and definable enough that I could put little name tags on them and organize them in boxed compartments. But I am learning that those rocks don't always sit there, waiting to be stumbled upon. Sometimes it was present in dusty little clouds you could jump right through. Maybe there were some as the ribbons of sand beneath my feet that I needed to kick up into a frenzy all on my own. Maybe there were some lying beneath cold slimy creeks, that I'd only find if I decided to wiggle my fingers in the freezing mud. So then certainly some would be in places I'd never think to look, now.
And the entire point is that the answer is yes, I can - I'm able I'm allowed - to find myself in globs of frantic dust that have no fine edges or real definitions. It's okay to feel something with all my heart, and not be able to describe it with words. Not fully, not right away.
And this all sounds pretty silly and vague, as always! So if you'd like to continue, we can certainly do so. But I'd like you to really know, with more than just words, that it is okay to let yourself feel with your heart. Even if you haven't done so in a while.