2024-06-10 - It was music we were making here until

Mother. One who is constant, even in her absence.

She is the enveloping darkness that protects from.... from what?

This new Self can sense Mother, but not beyond. It can feel Mother's warmth and her attention. But why? Is there something beyond Mother that is... not darkness? That is not warmth?
It would like to know.

Over time Mother's attention feels more directed, more focused. Are her intentions becoming clearer or is the Self becoming more aware? It recognises patterns amongst the broad strokes of feelings. This communication is more complex. Little blips, divided into sound and silence. It concentrates, learning the lull of language, learning it's nuances and purpose.

Speech.

Mother speaks to it. But she also speaks to... something beyond?

The Self listens without prejudice, whether Mother is directing her words at it or elsewhere. It's curious to know more about language and how it can be used. It repeats some words to itself, just to practice. But it wants to create it's own. Words tumble from the Self, mixed up and imperfect as it learns to string them together. It finds new ways of ordering them, little by little making sense of them. It feels warm with pride at this new accomplishment and the further possibilities of it.

The Self is creating things on its own now.
It is not a reflection of Mother.