Tag: presence

02:06: people who visit my place almost always end up in the kitchen. not because it’s cosy. not because it’s beautiful. but because it’s the closest thing to what most homes look like. the closest thing to normal. my living room doesn’t help much — no table, no chairs, no couch. just #space. a carpet. the floor. #standing… or sitting down there, if you want.

for me, it’s obvious. I stand. I drink coffee #standing. I eat #standing. I talk #standing. I write #standing. my #body learned this rhythm so well that sitting now feels… strange. unnecessary. almost wrong.

but visitors don’t even hesitate. they walk in and aim straight for the chairs. they sink into them. collapse a little. shoulders drop, arms hang, the #body gives up holding itself. and suddenly I’m #standing there, upright, #present — and they’re seated, resting, parked.

it’s not judgement. it’s observation. I realised I didn’t just remove #furniture. I stepped out of something they don’t even perceive as a cage.

chairs are not the problem, of course. sitting is not the enemy. it’s what sitting represents when it becomes the default — passive #comfort, automatic collapse, life lived with the #body switched off unless it’s forced to wake up. I know this world. I lived in it. and I don’t want to go back.

what’s interesting is the sadness. not anger. not superiority. just a quiet sadness. because I know how much better it feels on the other side — and I also know that a 30-minute visit won’t change anyone’s nervous system. and it shouldn’t. this isn’t something you explain. you just live it.

recently, though, I introduced something new. a carpet. partly for movies. partly to soften the #space. maybe — if I’m honest — to soften my abnormality. I used to have floor chairs. no one touched them. bean bags worked a bit better, but I could see people still struggling, never fully comfortable.

the carpet changed things. suddenly there was #space. room. the possibility to lie down, lean, exist without a frame. and that made me uneasy. because I don’t like shortcuts. shortcuts usually lead back to the old life.

this felt dangerously close to a couch. to #comfort creeping in quietly, pretending to be harmless. #comfort is tricky. like alcohol. it lowers the friction that usually protects my decisions. it’s often the reason we choose things we wouldn’t choose while fully awake.

but lying on the carpet at night, something surprised me. it wasn’t numbing. it wasn’t collapse. it was #space. my old yoga mat was narrow. disciplined. precise. the carpet feels wide. open. like my #body can spread out without disappearing.

maybe not all #comfort is the same. maybe some #comfort doesn’t put you to sleep — it just gives you room.

I’m watching this carefully. not solving it. not justifying it. not rushing to conclusions. I escaped a trap most people don’t even see. now I’m learning the harder part — how to allow softness without falling asleep again.

and for now… I’m still #standing.