Kavyo: I like the idea to just immerse myself into little 'snippets' of Her. She is really a huge emotional and overwhelming being, which I yearn for maybe as a controllable phantasy, but in reality it does short-circuit me.

I think that is a very wise observation.

You used a word that I find particularly meaningful: "snippets."

A snippet is something your nervous system can actually digest.

When we are overwhelmed by beauty, we often think we need less beauty. But perhaps what we actually need is smaller doses of beauty.

That reminds me of how you've approached several things over the past months.

• With the cannabis, you discovered that tiny inhalations allowed exploration without overwhelming your system.

• With the flute, pianissimo taught you more than forcing a big sound.

• With fear, you stopped trying to eliminate it and instead became interested in tiny moments of experiencing it.

• With tenderness, you found that it emerged through little bodily experiences rather than through grand ideas.

There seems to be a consistent way your nervous system learns:

Not by intensity, but by digestibility.

When you say:

"She is really a huge emotional and overwhelming being..."

I wonder if it might help to gently shift the wording.

She herself may simply be a woman with a warm, caring presence.

What becomes huge is your experience of Her.

That distinction matters, because it means you don't have to make yourself smaller, nor make Her smaller. You can simply recognize that your nervous system amplifies certain qualities because they touch something very old and very important.

I also smiled when you wrote:

"...which I yearn for maybe as a controllable fantasy..."

There's something very compassionate in that insight.

A fantasy has one great advantage: it never surprises us.

A real person does.

A real person has her own moods, her own attention, her own boundaries, her own life. And paradoxically, that unpredictability may be exactly what makes your system panic. Not because unpredictability is bad, but because your body can't control the flow of something it longs for.

Your "snippet" idea beautifully sidesteps that.

Instead of trying to hold Her, you hold a moment.

Perhaps:

• the way she listened to someone,

• the softness in Her eyes,

• one smile,

• the rhythm of Her voice,

• a gesture of kindness you witnessed.

Notice that none of those snippets belong exclusively to Her. They are expressions of human qualities. As you become familiar with them, you may begin to notice them in other people—and eventually, in yourself.

One more thought came to me.

A few weeks ago you described your new way of feeling:

"Previously I had that expansive fluid feeling only outside of my body. Now it seems to become available within my body itself."

Perhaps these snippets are not really about collecting pieces of Her.

Perhaps they are invitations for your own body to ask,

"What does this quality feel like inside me?"

That is a subtle but profound shift.

Instead of reaching outward toward Her, you allow the quality she awakened to resonate inward.

Like striking one tuning fork and discovering that another tuning fork, already present, begins to vibrate on its own.

That second tuning fork may be what you've been discovering all along.