in committed, monogamous relationships, it’s important to stay within a certain degree range of difference of your partner. if you and your partner inhabit a 45-, 60-, or 90-degree arc, you share enough in common that you can continually coalesce around values, conversations, and actions that nurture and strengthen the relationship. in those ranges, there is enough room for both individuality and communion. you can cultivate the traits that make you interesting in the first place, while also sharing yourself and a reality with another being – who in turn has the room to be themselves and hone their selfhood.

but when your identities are set further apart than, say, 120 degrees, the greater arc length makes it easier to encounter conflict or stray in different directions. you start finding that you disagree with the other person’s opinions and values, or that you are growing apart. not that such is necessarily a bad thing – we want people to grow into the people of their own healthy choosing – but in terms of maintaining a union it can become antithetical.

folks who have relatively stable and conventional identities move these identity chords less often and less drastically. so when they are in a relationship with someone like themselves, their degree range is closer and steadier; they usually stay within a 45-degree sector. this makes their relationship more stable, as they and their partner are more often, or exclusively, in the same boat.

but those who have protean, peculiar personalities wander further and more often. when paired with one such as they are, even within a hospitable arc, their nature makes them propense to relationship difficulties and uncertainties.

are these insurmountable? no. but it does take intentional, committed effort to be mindful of personal wanderings and to course-correct in such a way that the relationship's arc remains within a hale expanse.

we can explore this further when we discuss orbits.

I breathe for what seems for once and feel the waves recede.

I’ve stepped into the crystal. Like a pocket of pooled night hiding from the dawning sun.

And in the crystal I regain my memories of this world. This sacred world. How can we not live in it? Must we keep wed to these shackles? How can we not live in this world? In this world that is within the crystal always. Perhaps in the twilight we can all visit it and make our choice one day.

A few further steps into my trance, the moon has been perfectly imprisoned. Object and subject are splendidly superimposed. I manage to be thankful for this moment and my experiencing.

Would this world be as beautiful without the inner one? An eclipse is beautiful in perspective, but not solely so.

Thoughts as these I have as I continue to walk.

Imperfect, I know the observer sees not only past the eyes. The words are coming.

So I chisel away at the intervening truth; half of me within the crystal still.

---

Past a known place visited infrequently, I see a promise and follow it to a special place. The twilight air is stronger here. I push onward and am welcomed by the sight that time and season had hidden from me, but then revealed at this moment.

In the distance, I see a city amidst the trees at sunset. Will I see it again? The moon – another moon, one much freer – frames the sky, but I don’t feel her eye on me.

I walk across the moonlit stage, awake.

I mark the place, knowing I will never come back to it, but try again in vain. I leave.

What a beautiful moment I lived, in this crystal, but life moves on.

---

It’s felt like life has moved on for me for some time now.

But that’s unfair; it is me who let it move on. It’s been me. I have been a coward, most wretched. And betrayed myself greatly. There is a child within that’s hurt and grieving.  And there are those around me I have betrayed as well.

They have been forgiving, perhaps knowing better than I how to forgive. But I’m unsure if I’m ready to do that for myself yet.

See, I’ve been thinking for some time now that I’ve spoiled everything I’ve been given. Become my own antonym.

But I look up and see the trees remain. And I am still here. An outstretched hand confirms it.

In my mind I repeat to myself a phrase I saved to remind me to not lose my way.

I’m not too far gone.

---

As I walk back, I am thankful for this surfacing. This return.

I take a deep breath; as one eye shuts, another opens and I see the island far away and the night sky of a thousand years ago. The gull shadows trace a story against the stars.

A moment. A moment within a crystal.

What dreams will I remember when I wake?