Linguistical

Lately I've been having a number of gripes with terminology across both the daemonism and soulbonding spheres, and it's beginning to get rather frustrating. It is difficult to talk about concepts so founded in abstract if you aren't certain of the words, or the meaning they'll have to people.

Daemonism isn't so much of a problem for the most part. There is an accepted set of terms shared by the community, which is helped along by the fact that there is really only one main community. Some words are used far less than others, but the core terms remain a constant. Unfortunately, I have come to quibble with the specific definition of one of the most fundamental terms - 'settled'. At some point I once decided that there were two parts that made up settledness: a personality stable enough that it is likely to be much the same decades from now, and an animal form that accurately represents that personality. I have the latter...but am reluctant to claim the former. But at the same time, if I can apply a form, a form that has fit me for some time now and seems to only continue doing so, am I being overcautious? I am not settled form unknown, I do not wish to call myself settled, and yet I am not unsettled. It's come to the point where I've essentially dropped the term entirely when it comes to talking about myself, which can be difficult in certain conversations.

In contrast, soulbonding - and I use even that word uncertainly - provides a great deal more strife as it is a veritable minefield of words and phrases that are completely inconsistent. Unlike daemonism, there is no central community, and thus no set terminology. The word 'soulbonding' means different things depending on which group or, hell, which individual you talk to. The same goes for 'headmate', 'flickerbond', 'muse', and a dozen other terms. 'Fronting' has been referred to as 'channelling' and at least once 'roleplaying'. A 'headspace' could just as easily be a 'headscape' or a 'soulscape'. And this is without attempting to delve into the myriad of personal terms people develop, possibly as a result of others to turn to.

I (mostly) know what happens within my mind, but it becomes increasingly harder to know how to explain it to others. Naturally, I could work out my own set of terms - and, in some ways, have already begun to out of sheer necessity, considering how often I reference 'flickers' - but I can't help but think this only compounds the problem.

Unfortunately, it's not as though I can rally the soulbonding communities and demand set terms. There are too many different beliefs and experiences squashed under that one umbrella.

'Tis the Season

No, no I could not think of a more original title.

There are two main areas within my headspace that I access. One is set in the middle of a forest, surrounded by greenery and a small stream. This is the area in which the postbox is located, situated neatly as it is in what we generally refer to as Little Tree. The second area is a strip of beach, hemmed in by cliffs with a lighthouse visible in the distance.

As December approaches, I took a customary wander around the areas to see if anything was new. The postbox was empty - but as I backed away from it I could not help but do a double-take. "Was...was Little Tree always shaped like a Christmas tree?" Killy shrugged. "'Tis the season."

As if this weren't surreal enough, a visit to the beach reduced me to a disbelieving stare. Perched cheerfully atop the lighthouse was very distinctly an enormous, bright red Santa hat.

"Oh now that's just not possible!"
"It is your mind."
"But-"
"I dunno, I kind of like it."

King of the River

Killy has taken the common kingfisher as his primary form for the past three days now. Neither of us seem particularly certain as to why beyond his own thoughtful comment that he "liked the headfluff crest thing". It's interesting having a form capable of fitting in a majority of places, I will say that; on my desk, perching on the seat rest in front of me while on the bus, tucked against my shoulder in a crowd...I was able to visualise him consistently while at work for what may well be the first time ever, for he was able to perch within my line of 'sight'.

One Day Nearer to Dying

The headspace gave me a pillow for my birthday. Not a fancy pillow, merely a plain white one. I've stopped trying to make sense of anything it does, ever.

Fake Moustaches and Glasses

Within the daemian community, Indy suggested an activity wherein each day we organise to swap forms with another member. It's nice to note it has been a resounding success; even daemons who are normally reluctant and uncomfortable with changing forms, like my Killy, seem to be getting into the swing of things, as evidenced by the mongoose sitting on my desk.

For amusement's sake, I present you with my week's schedule. (Thursday is absent as I'd like to be myself on my birthday.)

Sat: Dingo
Sun: Slender mongoose
Mon: Axolotl
Tues: Blue Jay
Wed: Raccoon
Fri: Ibizian hound

Sign Here Please

I received another letter recently - well, package more than letter. I was surprised, because although Alex has gone on another of his little sojourns into the deeper recesses of my mind, I did not think this was from him. Who it was from remains uncertain, as inside the plain white box was an impossible amount of bubble-wrap, and a single folded piece of blue cardboard, about an inch and a half square, with the word "Hi" handwritten on the inside. Killy and I spent a while wondering if it meant something significant before hesitantly deciding not everything had to have a purpose, and that sometimes my brain is just weird.

That decision became a lot more concrete when the postbox started offloading an alarming amount of fruit, forcing me to duck a wayward orange.

Moral of the story: do not install a postbox in your mind. It is far more trouble than it's worth.

Surf and Sand

If I were to ever doubt my love of the beach, I would only have to look to Kilmaeyon for proof otherwise. My coyote, my sardonic, brusque, occasionally caustic daemon...goes completely goofy. The moment we hit the sand he is alert, ears pricked forward and a loping bounce to his step. A section is claimed, towel placed down with keys carefully wrapped inside, and then we turn to the surf. He bounds amongst the shallow waves, snapping at the froth and shaking free of the rolling breakers, pushing forward until it is so deep he is forced to paddle, fur fanning from his body in a golden fringe.

It is then he changes. The restrictions we so frequently battle against are eased by the simple fact coyotes are not built for the sea, and soon enough there is a pale-furred sea otter floating alongside me, cresting low waves on his back only to bolt under the surface and dart about me as something bigger comes crashing down. He laughs, a solid sound compared to his quiet chuckles, chasing imaginary fish.

This last holiday I was fortunate to have the opportunity to spend several hours riding a family friend's jet ski; it is a canine's delightful dream, streaking across the surface of light-speckled water with the wind drying the spray from your face almost before it has landed. Killy accepted the challenge with no hesitation, a grey splash of dolphin easily keeping up, flicking his tail to arch through the air in glee, circling about us in impatient acrobatics should we be forced to slow. If we fell he would roll in encouragement, perhaps offer his own incentive by stretching his form into that of the shark, grinning a sinister approval as I scramble to climb aboard again. And when tired of this racing, desiring closeness, a damp scrap of harvest mouse clings to my shoulder just below my ear, thin tail streaming out behind.

It was also a holiday that followed a period where I have communicated with Alex more frequently than ever before, and so for the first time I was able to hear his opinion on the happenings, however brief. For all that he was born on the coast, he has no recollection of spending any time at beaches, and so seemed to regard the sea and its tumbling surf with apprehensive awe. He was not, unfortunately, remotely interested in sharing many related experiences, and indeed countered my request to "see what jet skiing's like!" with an alarmed "Why?"