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Saturday, 21 October, 10 pm XXVIII My dearest darling, I don't think there's been a letter of yours that hasn't affected me somehow for joy or pain (though none I would avoid), no matter how hastily written or prosaic in theme; and several I've felt deeply, yet none has been so good to get and read as the three I received today, (after a two-day silence) - one written before and after that wonderful phone call, the other two on subsequent days. They were good because written that short space of time you felt and communicated extremes of emotion without one end product of futility and discouragement but rather with one of strength and of greatly increased insight. They make me feel for the first time - those letters plus the phone call - that we can both trust ourselves now to open ourselves to our feelings without real concern they will overthrow us, and can be sure of recovering balances after each little crisis of despair that is sure to come up. So just cut loose anytime, sweetie, and call a spade a spade - but always be alert to see that you’re not merely talking yourself into something. I've already reached and survived that condition in conversation with Henry and feel a sense of accomplishment in having it behind me. You made some astounding confessions, did you know that? Little things, but awfully significant at this point for you to have said them. “You know how in any sort of discussion I call anything black that anyone else calls white and contradict myself all over the place…” It made me feel so good to hear you say that, and I suffered with you your humiliation at Gil's hands. Of course I know how you feel, darling - for years and maintained what I thought was a dignified reserve out of hypersensitivity to seek reactions of other people. “Inadequate” is just the word for that feeling that you've stuck your neck out unnecessarily, and yet can't quite see what made you do it so as to be able to prevent a repetition. You ask “Am I always going to be like that, and never keep my mouth closed?” I think the answer is largely in ignoring the question in favor of another perspective, and letting [pg 2] the question resolve itself (which it will) in time. That perspective [c?h] of the realization that you are, and are discovering yourself to be, In the process of growing up (not to disparage a moment of your life until now, sweetie); that this implies, and could not be so to the extent that it is (a necessary extent for you at this time) without a great deal of open sensitivity, which leaves you so much at the mercy of yourself and the people around you; that such sensitivity and resultant emotional growth, tho it hurts and is a source of minor evils, is essentially a very good thing. Therefore it's relatively unimportant what you say or do in the presence of other people, however discomforting to you or to them. The people who are genuine and, for you, worth cultivating will understand without being patronizing or matching their personalities against yours; the others don't matter anyway. I've been in somewhat the same position with regard to Henry for several little moments in the course of our conversations (I hope to recapitulate on them and on him in a letter sometime soon). Our relationship hasn't been one-sided, and he has talked at least as intimately to me as I have to him. But perhaps I've talked somewhat more, out of the backlog of the past fifteen years’ experience, and there have been times when I felt weak and foolish. Each time I was vindicated by the fact that neither of us sought to intrude on the other's personal identity, no matter how freely we discussed personal things, and I know both from things said and from his manner that Henry has a considerably increased respect for me (as over the Warren Johnston he knew and liked, but didn't altogether fathom, at Boulder). Certainly I have an added admiration for him, and far from heaving my feelings of that nature drained into a mutual consolation-or-admiration society I find them directed to [pg 3] the objective side of the many things we discussed, personal, political, philosophical, religious and everyday practical. It is important in such a relationship, of course, not to get too far past your companion in either the dishing out or the taking direction. The time to quit at any given moment may be when you suddenly feel exposed and vulnerable too strongly to benefit from farther talking (or when the other person shows vigor of feeling so). In the interim you can decide whether it's good to go any further - and in your case, if the other person has simple honesty, I’d give doing so the benefit of the doubt. You may always run the risk of being hurt, but if you are you become better equipped to meet those people with no sensitivity or compassion at all, and there are lots of them, and the positive rewards are so great sometimes that the risk is well worth taking. Rule of thumb - never let down your hair with anyone whose primary conversational aim in serious subjects is a kind of personal power politics (I think you'll know what I mean by that) - unless that tendency is unstable and unwanted by the other person, who might be that way out of insecurity, and if you think it possible to get the conversation onto another plane. The object of intelligent and compassionate intercourse is not to dominate or be dominated, but to exchange. Such intercourse, I find (sometimes to my surprise, after a momentary feeling of dependency or the opposite) reinforces rather than challenges personal identity; it leaves me with a tremendously strengthened feeling, inside, of capacity (for both work and enjoyment) and purpose. [pg 4] Maybe, beloved, it isn't fair to talk to you in a partial vacuum like this, because you don't have anyone like Henry around and that makes it harder. Probably you wouldn't be ready to talk quite as freely (tho that depends a lot on the other person) and may have as much intimacy with other people as you can stand or need now (tho I doubt it). At any rate, tuck these thoughts away somewhere and let them ferment. Whenever you do find people you’re sure of, and have or can me the time and occasion, let yourself go just a little more than you think you dare. I don't mean being maudlin or sentimental, of course - just candid and true to whatever seems natural at the moment. And remember that growing of the kind that you and even I am going through now always hurts a little. If you rush into it you’re sure to be tripped up, but if you don't venture at all you'll always be afraid, on your dignity and leave out of reach to those who can help you to feel more deeply and strongly and whom you can help to feel and comprehend. To go back to your letters a moment - how many times have I too made “emphatic statements trying to make something clear to myself,” and only sounding garbled…? Come to think of it, I did that a number of times with Henry. I think the answer to that is - the more things you learn and understand )thru the gradual process of opening up, plus a certain amount of conscious, disciplined thinking - both of which come easier as they develop), the less tension there is in making yourself vocal. The less need, that is, to get your thoughts out of you vocally before you can assess them and decide whether they’re worth saying. I wouldn't worry about that now; it'll take care of itself, only just be sure that you do remain open and don't sneak back into your shell any more than you can help. It feels warm and snug in there [?] outside it, but it's worth the little hurt…Be [prac?]: measure what you can take and what is [?] - and [?] limit. - So many other things I loved in those letters, darling - got to stop now I love you wholly Warren
