Let’s go for a walk.

How much of our experiences encapsulate reoccurring fits of madness and fantasy? How much of ourselves are we offering to others? When are we truly existing in absolute solace and serenity? What does it mean to accept defeat?

I was talking to a friend yesterday and we mediated on safety and the reoccurring ways that the internet has so violently degraded the importance of its value to a meme or a TikTok or a 30s definition from a social media therapist.

Often we compromise mental, emotional and physical safety in our relationships as an effort to “take risks”. What if we know our selves better than we give ourselves credit? I wonder if safety is something that we always consider in love and relationships. Why are we always pushing ourselves beyond defeat when we know our mind, body and spirit deserve so much more?

How often are we turning our face, parsing through, divulging way too much and experiencing maddening encounters as a way to seek the safety we aren’t experiencing? What if the plight to safety is the most unsafe of all? None of this is made to make sense; I don’t really know who subscribes to this thing anyway. Again I’ve been stuck in the same stream of conscious on safety, fantasy, desire and love for days now. Forgive me.

Does safety require boundless capacity? Does safety mean consideration and reciprocity? Is it an active exchange of care between self and self or you and somebody else? I wonder if a lot of us lacked safety in our childhood relationships and even if we don’t want to admit that, is that why it shows up in the ways we often retreat from providing safety to ourselves let alone others?

I know the word is thrown around a lot these days. In media, in conversations about with friends and partners. I guess all of this is to truly a question. What is safety and how do we preserve its importance as a collective?