When you asked the question. . .
I don’t know that it occurred to me at some particular point, or that I always knew the moment you asked the question you already knew the answer because the process by which intelligence grows is by the conclusions reached by the hard work of consecutive thoughts and common sense. Not by magic but by pursuit of the topic one cares mightily.
I did not want to keep making the same errors because I did not know errors were in my basic thought. When it was evident then I could halt the buggy and take stock. But evident it was that when I could frame the question, the wheels of the plight were already in gear and it was time to closet myself and do the footwork. And it is real work.
Never reached immediately, or even one lifetime, but perhaps centuries. My reason for working on this is the fact of still caring for my commitments. And as long as I still feel responsible, I will help as I can.
In the discussion where this came up, I told my listener of my infatuation and heart racing I sat over a coke with this handsome Greyhound driver bussing university students like me home. I was well into my enthusiasm for my learning addiction when he voiced longing that we had met ten years ago. It was in his years talking because I would have been eight in my years.
He was not mine to pursue for there were toddlers waiting for their daddy to come home. The question raised was what harm could it do? No words were required because there no question on my part because no invasion was permitted. Freedom in space is necessary for action. If brought to fruition, secrecy would be needful. Privacy has no question, but secrecy has a fistful. Unless one wished to live in a web of lies, one must be passionate about the matter. To me the justification would be intolerable without mentioning the emotional toll.
Since I just was 18 years old, it was an old head sitting on these shoulders. Hard going for this sister with 5 brothers older than she. When they questioned how short was my bataan twirling skirt with the high school band needed to be, one could imagine what arguments arise with familial invasion.
As the last sibling standing upright, close to the century mark by a slight handful, I have reached conclusions signifying a life hard as rocks. Never thinking I would be seeing rights taken away needing fight again. To me this has been the best classroom in the universe. The rewards and toys are profuse but the lessons are hard going. Consequences might be delayed but come they will and the confusion as to why me? Will not be voiced because we will know why me?
Because when we frame the question aloud, the pieces were falling into place. And we know the answer but just need to go into the closet of mind and do the work of the god or spirit that animates us.
When we ask the question, the answer is already ours. 
artwork by Lucinda Rybacki Cathcart
Heart painting. . .Claudia Hallissey