When rock climbing, the climber must use themselves as a tool for measure. The distance from their hand to their opposite shoulder gives the right amount of rope to tie a single figure 8 knot, and a fist away from the harness is where the knot is secured. The belayer controls the safety rope for a climber, securing their well-being while they climb through and repel from the course. Essentially, they support the climber. Before the climber proceeds, a safety check is conducted to ensure that both the climber and belayer are safely secured. As the climber begins their course, the belayer must pull out the slack to keep the rope taut.
If the action of caring is to take on a weight or burden for an other, then they need to trust that that weight will be held for them safely. There is a comfort that can only come with time (maybe you’re holding on for a while). That said, you need to be open to receiving care in order to be able to fall into trust.
10 February 2018: I’m sitting at my kitchen table beside a cup of lukewarm coffee and a wilted flower. This chair is not the most comfortable, but if I retreat back into bed, there is no chance of me ever leaving again. When I lay down, I feel so synchronized with the horizon line, as if we extend onto each other seamlessly. I’m captivated by its wingspan, as it gives space for my mind to wander farther than my fingertips could ever reach. The horizon is so naturally non-linear. But this chair helps me remain properly upright and vertical. (Maybe one day I will stay upright independently). I don’t know if this is a good thing or not, but my feet barely skim the ground and I can feel my head starting to reach the clouds again. I think that here, it’s about finding strength and comfort in new ways.
Forms of care, forms of repair: If the walls can stand, so can I.