The secret moment: INFJ Style

The secret moment: INFJ Style

When blowing up a balloon,

excitement runs rampant.

“I can’t wait to hit it around the room,” she says.

“I’m giving mine to my mother when she picks me up,” another second grader decides and muttering.

Time goes by,

with breathlessness and dizziness defeated by perseverance.

Exerted blowing,

until their jaws ache,

until their eyes, similarly to the balloons to become pressurized.

Both balloons pop.

Their faces splashed with their own slobber.

Their surprise reflexes immediately all encompassing.

On the verge of tears from freight.

They recollect and acknowledge the other,

they succumb to laughter.

They look into each others eyes,

knowing this is their secret to keep.

 

 

*I would like to acknowledge that the beautiful photograph is not my own.

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The Divine War: INFJ Style

The Divine War: INFJ Style

And the angels fought, they fought for god.

They fought for the ideals and the pureness they saw within themselves.

They fought for the goodness they sought to water the world with.

Be the hero: INFJ Style

Be the hero: INFJ Style

The Oracle in The Matrix, hands Neo a cookie after insinuating that a decision will be forced upon him. A situation will be imposed on him in which he will need to take action, to make a decision. A decision that will impact upon the outcome of this hero, the outcome of this hero’s world. A decision that extends so much further past the extent of the hero’s insecurities, vulnerabilities and misfortune. A decision that transcends the hero himself.

I sit watching birds fly around me. Contemplating what I’d use wings for if I had them.

Simply put, the hero sacrifices, the hero uses wings to fly towards his demons. Facing the mirror that reflects himself to himself, his purest of adversities and self-doubt. A hero attempts to save Morpheus, regardless of whether he understands and has learned all he could have about the Matrix beforehand.

A hero learns that he is required to act regardless of whether he has the understanding to do so.

A hero learns that understanding the repricussons of any action they take is out of their grasp. A hero learns that attempting to understand these repricussions leaves an individual hopeless, flailing in a dark void that can only imprison, serving to offer only endless questions to unsolved answers.

In order to live in reality, action needs to be taken. To dissolve fear Neo needed to risk losing against Agent Smith. One needs to risk losing and exposing oneself to further fear. The type of fear that can make you nauseous at the ponder of it. The type if fear that doesn’t ring the doorbell before entering.

Inevitably, there is always a Morpheus that needs to be saved, there are always fears to overcome. Use your wings for heroic purposes.

100 word flash fiction. INFJ Style

100 word flash fiction. INFJ Style

My thighs and backside ached. Sitting in that chair helped with the lower back though. I had sat monitoring the cities pulse for hours. Sip of tea now, sip of tea then. My cocoon.

She walked in. She was tired but didn’t show it. Our four pupils met, communicating in ways that defied spoken tongue. Her cocoon and cup alongside mine.

Her hand in my hair and smell in my nose. Thigh and backside tingles replaced by ones received from my head. She turned with a simper, with whispering eyes that asked me to ‘steep another teapot and then fuck her gently.’

Love letter to you

Love letter to you

Your hands so soft,

your hands in mine,

I didn’t even begin to realize.

You held them close,

you held on dear,

in all the ways which I now know, but could not hear.

You lying there while I lay here,

our hands cupping nothing but blanket and thin air.

My head down, eyes now closed and you’re where?

Behind my eyelids,

a place your warm hands still warm up mine,

a place where I still smell your hair.

 

A poem addressed to myself

A poem addressed to myself

Time passes, moments that could have been spent with you are lost.

Building sandcastles on the beach, so high.

Laughing as sand blows into our lunchtime sandwiches, so gritty.

 

Dynamic dreams, opening the door onto a world that is closed.

Waiting for the signposts, so intuitive.

Reality dissolving inside a cup of watery subjectivity, so inviting.

 

Utterly isolated, waiting for what is meant to come to come.

Aching for newness, companionship, love, so eager.

Satisfied and comfortable without however, all too independent.

Living in other peoples insecurities: INFJ Style

Living in other peoples insecurities: INFJ Style

The boundary where someone finishes and the INFJ begins is often all too misconstrued, blurred. In the mind of the INFJ that is. From an INFJs perspective that is.

Ever wonder why INFJs are some of the best listeners? We absorb the stances that those we share our lives with take, both defensively and offensively. We hold these stances temporarily, putting our feet in the warm, hopefully not sweaty, shoes of those around us. I gravitate toward people that wear Converse for that reason. Walking around in soemone else’s functional, trendy and comfortable Chuck Taylors for quite some time isn’t too much to ask for, is it?

A problem, a conundrum of epic proportions starts here.

I wear Chuck Taylors. See they are often not only the choice of shoe that those closest to me sport but also the shoe I wear habitually. And I am guilty far too often, of wondering just who’s shoes are on my feet. ‘Are these mine or yours?’, my right brain asks my left.

In friendships, in family and in most occurrences with intimate relationships, the boundary between myself and those that matter has dissolved. The drawbridge is down, the crocodiles in their moat have been fed and the knights in the castle are on lunch break, swords in a pile, leaning against the wall on the far side of the mess hall. Whatever walks across that drawbridge becomes my problem, and not only a problem, a big problem.

I still have a ways to go. I still have a ways to go to understanding people, people’s natures, my own vulnerability.

My castle is strong, my fortress is sturdy. After all this time, I will say it feels cold, it feels hard, devoid of any softness. The battles that I have invited in have torn the place to ribbons overtime. The knights I have lost within my own hallways have dripped off the walls, ponding in places only dust should gather.

Its about time this INFJ cleans up. Buries the bodies, scrubs the floors, mans the towers with lookouts and readies the swords in sheath. Always, this castles drawbridge will remain down, for those who have the depth of personality and bravery to walk inches away from snapping crocodilian jaws. Those who value me. Those who are willing to put their value on the line to understand me and the sacrifice of mine.

A queen will come by one cold afternoon requiring respite, walking within, encapsulated. She will envision my hallways filled with her art, kitchen filled with her favorite ingredients, wardrobe filled with her clothing. She will sit down to share a cup of tea, transfixed with the view, transfixed with the land it overlooks. We will share.

Sharing starts with a cup of tea.