She cried out in wonder, for she had never seen this before, and it struck me, Jeffers, how the human capacity for receptivity is a kind of birthright, an asset given to us in the moment of our creation by which we are intended to regulate the currency of our souls. Unless we give back to life as much as we take from it, this faculty will fail us sooner or later. My difficulty, I saw then, had always lain in finding a way to give back all the impressions I had received, to render an account to a god who had never come and never come, despite my desire to surrender everything that was stored inside me.
∆ Rachel Cusk, Second Place p.169
walking into the room, knocking three times, bringing food leftovers, stealing your milk, endless care without the pressure of sex, excitement without performances, a taste of profound love and rest.
The most anti-capitalist protest is to care for another and to care for yourself. To take on the historically feminized and therefore invisible practice of nursing, nurturing, caring. To take seriously each other’s vulnerability and fragility and precarity, and to support it, honor it, empower it. To protect each other, to enact and practice community. A radical kinship, an interdependent sociality, a politics of care.
"Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all barriers within yourself that you have built against it."