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Today I know two things:
You are an embodiment of the Elemental Goddess Force. Whether this means you are merely closer to the center than most, or a more perfect conduit than others, or if it means you have Fey blood, I can't say. But I can say that to be in your presence is to be bathed in the waters of Yin; enfolded by the arms of faeries; whirl to the music of the spheres; inhale the heady musk of the Goddess' Yoni; buffeted by the darkness of Mystery; burned by the fire of the Other, the Divine. To expect mortal man to long endure such exposure is unreasonable. Only the most open-minded and -hearted, the most emotionally and spiritually nimble, can hope to ride the whirlwind for long. And for those that try, and have varying amounts of success, they must contend with a near constant exposure to a flame that burns away trite illusions, emotional layers, and protective walls of all kinds. To be your lover is to be forced to grow, on a near daily basis. This is disturbing and painful in the long term. In the short term, who wouldn't want to have the hearth the goddess curls up on? To gaze into the eyes of Bast and see a measure of love and favor reflected there? Not to mention the carnal delights and earthy passions of coupling with one of the Faeriefolk... and so many men are willing. It would take a small legion of men, serially or in parallel, to bring to one such as you some measure of peace and understanding, of acceptance. In that way, when one falters, you have a place to turn, shelters set by to go and lick your wounds from the daily melee of fear, misunderstanding and apprehension which close proximity to you can cause. And so a legion is what you have acquired. Some current, some (most unfortunately) cut off to you in your past. Even the best of us cannot endure. Daniel, by far the most emotionally and spiritually agile among us, had to eventually construct an island to which the sea and storm of you did not have access. It was profoundly sad that he was trying to construct a tiny bit of shelter for him and Marina right at the time you poured forth the full storm of your love and protectiveness on him. I have the sincerest hope that you can see that he did not mean this hurt to you, even though I understand you were hurt deeply by what his actions. This is a very important distinction which I hope you do (or can, or will) see. Mark is the wisest and smartest of us, and he deals with you very well when he is able to act from the secure center of learning and defined and codified morality. I suspect that when anger, mistrust, and harsh words get between you, it happens when he meets emotion with emotion, or when the curious whiskers of your Mystery come prowling into his (relatively) unprotected Self.
Also I know that you have no masks. The neat, organized bits of persona that almost everyone, in every culture, can put on and take off according to the perceived necessities of the social context are completely missing from your character. This is in a way enormously refreshing; there is no lying, no misrepresentation, no having to dig through words or false smiles to find the hidden meaning. To those that know you and attempt to understand and love you, one can follow any remark -- however casual or portentous -- to its source within your heart. But conversely, this makes much of what you say completely unintelligible, if not threatening or embarrassing, to most muggles you come in contact with. This is the source of nearly every incident of "social ineptness" or "naivete" with which all us have browbeaten you, or giggled at you for, in your life, and I most specifically include your parents. A parent's job in large part is to help their children construct the masks which they will need for smooth entry into, and transition through, the society of adulthood. For your mother and father, as well as for a disturbingly high portion of our culture, the mask is more important than the persona underneath. The persona is subverted for the masks of Social Grace, Politeness, Pillar of the Community, Good Mother, etc. It is perhaps understandable to see how their puzzlement might turn to fear for or sometimes anger towards the daughter who not only refused to construct her own masks, but expressed a complete lack of belief for their need or use. But masks are also frequently a form of armor. They are the buttress between casual cutting remarks or the painful emotional outbursts of others, and our true hearts and feelings. They can be a shock absorber for the otherwise unendurable assault from the pain and injustice of the world. And yet you have endured anyway. This, I believe, is the source of that frequent "protective instinct" which you inspire from most men around you. We recognize that your emotional state is both fragile and precious because of its unencumberedness. Unbearable lightness of being indeed. For you, the only protection I see is from the fantasy of venues such as Dragon*Con, and from the role assumption available through acting and Furry. Don't let these be taken away. You are right to see them as precious.
Some men, myself included, would probably die to protect you, and feel that it was a noble and worthy act to preserve such a wonder as you in the world. But what you require, unintentionally, is a fairly regular transcendental death. Transcendental death leads to higher understanding, deep wisdom, and elevated spirituality, of course. But who can pay this price time after time, and not at the time of their own choosing?
*** end of what I know, beginning of speculation ***
At times it seems highly unlikely for you to have such a powerful relationship with the Unbeliever. This type of comment, "There were a few people that had been using her, and had pretty much abandoned her, so severing those relationships seemed mostly irrelevant." is the sort of small minded arrogance that I would never believe you could stand to be around. At my worst (in the beginning) I did at times feel threatened and somewhat overwhelmed by the legion, and angry at the ones that didn't honor you in what I felt was the proper way. But never, ever, would I have been so incomprehensibly idiotic as to label them "mostly irrelevant." This is such an abnegation of you that it borders on the profane. And ironically, Roon had already said that before the Unbeliever even posted.
And yet... you are the wild magic, and he the white gold wielder. I believe in a very real sense that he was there at your making, and in no small way was an anchor through the roughest days of your early adulthood. I understand very well the preserving power of this type of "back burner love", as I've taken to calling it. In my case, I took the lid off the pot and stirred the soup around after only five years. You had nearly fifteen. Thomas Covenant spent most of his time in the Land denying the wild magic, even though he carried the source of it with him constantly. And in his case, he had only the people of the Land to disappoint and betray. In our world, the wild magic itself has a heart and feelings, and no armor to protect its vulnerability. Will the Unbeliever's doubt cost him his wife and child, the wild magic itself, and the respect of all those who have hope of it's preserving? Leprosy might begin to seem a small cost next to loss on a scale that staggering...
You are an embodiment of the Elemental Goddess Force. Whether this means you are merely closer to the center than most, or a more perfect conduit than others, or if it means you have Fey blood, I can't say. But I can say that to be in your presence is to be bathed in the waters of Yin; enfolded by the arms of faeries; whirl to the music of the spheres; inhale the heady musk of the Goddess' Yoni; buffeted by the darkness of Mystery; burned by the fire of the Other, the Divine. To expect mortal man to long endure such exposure is unreasonable. Only the most open-minded and -hearted, the most emotionally and spiritually nimble, can hope to ride the whirlwind for long. And for those that try, and have varying amounts of success, they must contend with a near constant exposure to a flame that burns away trite illusions, emotional layers, and protective walls of all kinds. To be your lover is to be forced to grow, on a near daily basis. This is disturbing and painful in the long term. In the short term, who wouldn't want to have the hearth the goddess curls up on? To gaze into the eyes of Bast and see a measure of love and favor reflected there? Not to mention the carnal delights and earthy passions of coupling with one of the Faeriefolk... and so many men are willing. It would take a small legion of men, serially or in parallel, to bring to one such as you some measure of peace and understanding, of acceptance. In that way, when one falters, you have a place to turn, shelters set by to go and lick your wounds from the daily melee of fear, misunderstanding and apprehension which close proximity to you can cause. And so a legion is what you have acquired. Some current, some (most unfortunately) cut off to you in your past. Even the best of us cannot endure. Daniel, by far the most emotionally and spiritually agile among us, had to eventually construct an island to which the sea and storm of you did not have access. It was profoundly sad that he was trying to construct a tiny bit of shelter for him and Marina right at the time you poured forth the full storm of your love and protectiveness on him. I have the sincerest hope that you can see that he did not mean this hurt to you, even though I understand you were hurt deeply by what his actions. This is a very important distinction which I hope you do (or can, or will) see. Mark is the wisest and smartest of us, and he deals with you very well when he is able to act from the secure center of learning and defined and codified morality. I suspect that when anger, mistrust, and harsh words get between you, it happens when he meets emotion with emotion, or when the curious whiskers of your Mystery come prowling into his (relatively) unprotected Self.
Also I know that you have no masks. The neat, organized bits of persona that almost everyone, in every culture, can put on and take off according to the perceived necessities of the social context are completely missing from your character. This is in a way enormously refreshing; there is no lying, no misrepresentation, no having to dig through words or false smiles to find the hidden meaning. To those that know you and attempt to understand and love you, one can follow any remark -- however casual or portentous -- to its source within your heart. But conversely, this makes much of what you say completely unintelligible, if not threatening or embarrassing, to most muggles you come in contact with. This is the source of nearly every incident of "social ineptness" or "naivete" with which all us have browbeaten you, or giggled at you for, in your life, and I most specifically include your parents. A parent's job in large part is to help their children construct the masks which they will need for smooth entry into, and transition through, the society of adulthood. For your mother and father, as well as for a disturbingly high portion of our culture, the mask is more important than the persona underneath. The persona is subverted for the masks of Social Grace, Politeness, Pillar of the Community, Good Mother, etc. It is perhaps understandable to see how their puzzlement might turn to fear for or sometimes anger towards the daughter who not only refused to construct her own masks, but expressed a complete lack of belief for their need or use. But masks are also frequently a form of armor. They are the buttress between casual cutting remarks or the painful emotional outbursts of others, and our true hearts and feelings. They can be a shock absorber for the otherwise unendurable assault from the pain and injustice of the world. And yet you have endured anyway. This, I believe, is the source of that frequent "protective instinct" which you inspire from most men around you. We recognize that your emotional state is both fragile and precious because of its unencumberedness. Unbearable lightness of being indeed. For you, the only protection I see is from the fantasy of venues such as Dragon*Con, and from the role assumption available through acting and Furry. Don't let these be taken away. You are right to see them as precious.
Some men, myself included, would probably die to protect you, and feel that it was a noble and worthy act to preserve such a wonder as you in the world. But what you require, unintentionally, is a fairly regular transcendental death. Transcendental death leads to higher understanding, deep wisdom, and elevated spirituality, of course. But who can pay this price time after time, and not at the time of their own choosing?
*** end of what I know, beginning of speculation ***
At times it seems highly unlikely for you to have such a powerful relationship with the Unbeliever. This type of comment, "There were a few people that had been using her, and had pretty much abandoned her, so severing those relationships seemed mostly irrelevant." is the sort of small minded arrogance that I would never believe you could stand to be around. At my worst (in the beginning) I did at times feel threatened and somewhat overwhelmed by the legion, and angry at the ones that didn't honor you in what I felt was the proper way. But never, ever, would I have been so incomprehensibly idiotic as to label them "mostly irrelevant." This is such an abnegation of you that it borders on the profane. And ironically, Roon had already said that before the Unbeliever even posted.
And yet... you are the wild magic, and he the white gold wielder. I believe in a very real sense that he was there at your making, and in no small way was an anchor through the roughest days of your early adulthood. I understand very well the preserving power of this type of "back burner love", as I've taken to calling it. In my case, I took the lid off the pot and stirred the soup around after only five years. You had nearly fifteen. Thomas Covenant spent most of his time in the Land denying the wild magic, even though he carried the source of it with him constantly. And in his case, he had only the people of the Land to disappoint and betray. In our world, the wild magic itself has a heart and feelings, and no armor to protect its vulnerability. Will the Unbeliever's doubt cost him his wife and child, the wild magic itself, and the respect of all those who have hope of it's preserving? Leprosy might begin to seem a small cost next to loss on a scale that staggering...
