What does it mean?
What are buttons? What is their function on a garment, a radio, a telephone, a motor? How does it relate to this blog?
On a garment, a button keeps it closed, keeps what is underneath protected, and hidden. A button is the first line of defense against anything that hurts, intrusions, and unwelcome attentions.
It does not shield but it makes it possible to cover.
It does not lie but keeps the truth from showing itself.
A button allows nakedness and therefore vulnerability—to remain veiled.
The radio button pours
information or misinformation
and a jumble of disinformation.
It changes my mind, molding and training it.
It turns on music and cuts it off.
Dance or not?
All a matter of decision, choice,
Buttons are often constricting
they interfere with
breathing, moving, bending, dancing, living
and often, loving.
The main button on a machine gets it started.
You push, it works
and does the job the apparatus was made to do;
it functions, it fulfills the expected, nothing more.
Buttons on a telephone reach out for a connection to
a voice, a heart, a soul, a mind.
There is someone at the other end…
What happens when we reach a robot?
We want to hang up or shove the 0 button for some homo sapiens.
The point of touching 7 buttons is
to reach someone we know.
We want to, no, we need to, talk.
We need, no, we crave understanding;
there is a sharing that must be done through words both spoken and heard .
We reach out to an other by pushing buttons.
When you push my buttons I disconnect from what we share,
I retreat; I get angry;
I am hurt; I don’t listen;
I am afraid.
Buttons allow me to survive the unbearable disconnect
from what is other,
when all I hunger for is to be part of that other,
Buttons enable dissimulation and camouflage to survive the pain
that leaves us hollow, bleeding, spilling out, gasping for breath.
One button to each scar.
This is a place to unbutton, undo, let go
of the shield so carefully hammered,
the corset so carefully laced while…
living, coping and denying.
We forget little, we just store stuff away and get used to it
The unshed baggage that we carry around
changes posture, attitude, walk, mindset,
and shapes us into creatures so different from
what we dreamt of becoming, of doing, of being.
Our buttoned up selves are safe but undone.
When do we unbutton?
When we feel safe
When we want to be comfortable
When we are vulnerable but don’t care
What if we could unbutton and speak freely
That is, without fear
And be heard?
What if I could
Unbutton my shirtsleeve
And wear my heart on it?
What if I/you could say
I love you
I want you
I am hurt
And you/I accepted it?
Would I/you hear it?
Would you/I want to?
Unbuttoned or undone
It’s all us in fury
anger, pain, passion,
joy, jubilation, love…
so much love it hurts