Flashes of Light

I saw my first meteor tonight, the first time I've been completely confident that the streak of light across the curved belly of the lady of the heavens was a piece of falling sky.

I blogged today about visibility and making a difference to the world, in part; poking a sharp stick at visibility, only the loud being heard, stereotypes, talking. A friend talked to me in response about writing to change the world in little subtle bits, and I was dubious; that depends on it being read, that depends on people noticing what's there. It's not a large noise.

I checked my bookmarks of who's linking to me just now, and found a post from today titled "Gratitude", thanking me among others for my writing, for talking about the kink, for building a space where one more person can feel normal.

The meteor flared across the sky in a flicker of brilliant whiteness, stirring the glittering adornments of Her body, and I wrapped myself in the heavens and was at home.

On Skeletal Structure and the Nature of Identity

I found myself thinking of that argument on rasfc a while back (was it really a few months ago? I'm not sure), the whole what is identity and not, and the claim that changes to the body don't change the sense of identity, unlike changes to the mental process.

I spent this weekend far more dependent on my cane than is normal for me even when I am using it. (Usually I need it for a day or two and then I'm more or less okay. This weekend I needed it to climb up the steep slopes of curb cuts.)

And one of the things that drove me completely bats about that dependency, about the limitation of the pain, was this steady persistent awareness that this is not me. And I don't have the identity I had as a child, when I could do nothing, be nothing, that did not run, but damnit, I can walk. That hurt, sometimes, more than the pain.

My mother tells me that my brother could never have riding lessons like I did as a child because his hip went weird on him too easily. And muses about her need for a hip replacement.

Who am I, in the bone?