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My Reactions After My Cross Was Raised...

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thehangingtree said:
never saw the second picture, Admi
tree
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I think the third is new to me?

Eulalia said:
In Classical - and indeed Celtic and other Indo-European traditions -
sight is not just a passive function like that of a camera,
eyes send out rays that 'catch' what they're looking at, and can affect it for good or evil.
In an extreme situation, especially hanging naked on my Cross,
I'm sure I'd 'feel' the looks of the spectators,
whether hurting me all the more with their hatred and contempt,
easing me with love and sympathy,
maybe arousing ambiguous, conflicting feelings in me with their lust...​
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Even now we recognise that sight is active not passive, see "the male gaze" of feminist discourse.
I'm sure the spectators would be a significant factor in the experience. How the crucified one reacts depends on their character, their situation. Seeking support, seeking love from loved ones, very poignant and powerful situation. It comes back to the discussion we had recently about being watched by close family members.

There may also be in the crowd people who take real enjoyment and entertainment from the spectacle. They love to see you naked, tortured, helpless. Maybe they are people known to you. Maybe people who always lusted after you but found you unattainable. Now they take pleasure in your free display, your punishment, you stuck up bitch.

Or maybe there are those in the crowd who you always admired, who you dreamed of. You wanted to have a closer relationship with them, but now you are shamed and broken in front of them. Do you seek out their eyes? Do you plead with them, or are you too ashamed?

So many possibilities
 
danielle926 said:
I was just looking at my own avatar and wondering to myself what I might be doing, feeling, saying, etc once my cross was raised after I had been nailed to it. So I just decided to jot them down kind of randomly in a post.

Initially there would be screams of agony and the instant realization that I would be dying on this cross. I would want so badly to be free of my pain and anguish that my struggling would begin immediately. Squirming, writhing, hoping to somehow free myself from my cross even though the nails make it impossible.

I would be engaged in the ultimate struggle, the struggle for my life.

The cycle would be vicious. The struggle causing more agony but I would have the inner need to struggle anyway. And the more suffering that would occur, the more it would cause me to struggle.

Then, between my sobbing and my moans of agony, would come the pleas for help. I would force myself to look around and pick out people to make eye contact with. Then beg them for help. Hoping I could make them see and understand the suffering I am going through. I want them to look in my eyes to see the pain, anguish and desperation that I am in. I could imagine how I would beg and plead. "Please somebody help me, please I beg you, please please help me".

I would bow my head at times in desperation. Other times I would throw it back in desperation. I would shake my head from side to side letting everyone know this shouldn't be happening to me. But it is. And there is nothing I can do. The helplessness would begin to overwhelm me.

I think at times I would look over at my wrists and see them nailed. See the blood running and dripping from them. But then quickly look away, almost unable to believe that I am really nailed to this cross. That I am being crucified.

Being catholic, that would finally kick in. And people would hear me begin to pray. Not standard prayers at first, but prayers I am making up. Prayers of desperation, begging for help, mercy and comfort. "dear god please comfort me, please, I beg you. Please dear lord have mercy on me, please help me through this agony, please god please". Things like that. Praying through moans and sobs of pain.

I would need to feel loved so badly, that if I saw a friend or relative there I would look down at them and beg them, "please, please tell me you love me, oh god please tell me that please...".

Eventually I would be heard praying standard prayers, still hoping those prayers will bring mercy and comfort. I could imagine trying to struggle more when I was getting weaker, knowing the end was near, struggling again for my life.

I'm not sure what the last thing I would say would be but I imagine it might be something like this. While looking down at anyone there that was a friend or relative that cared about me, I would probably say something like "please remember me and what I went through, I love you and please pray for me...."
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WOW DANIELLE!
 
If someone that really cared about me was there, be it either a friend or relative or lover, I think I would want them to come over to my cross and reach up and touch me while telling me they love me. Even if they can only reach to my lower legs or knees. I would need that. To feel the touch of someone that I know cares about me and loves me. So I know I'm not just some piece of flesh suffering on my cross so that those watching can enjoy seeing me like that.

Feeling their hands on me cannot take away my pain and anguish, but perhaps I can take some emotional comfort from feeling their hands on me and hearing them tell me they love me and they will stay with me....that I won't be alone to struggle in agony in front of an uncaring throng of onlookers...
 
phlebas said:
I think the third is new to me?
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The third is from me, posted about two years before. Thanks for reposting. You can find it by searching "step by step" and will find others there. hope to post a newer one soon. The Picture shows a couple: She commits adultery by leading him into temptation. It comes up and instead of stoning, they were crucified both to make an example for others.....
 
Danielle, your depiction of such terrible physical and emotional suffering is heartrending, and has spawned a thread that challenges us to respond! As a stranger at the foot of your cross I would be transfixed - unable to turn away for to do so would be to abandon you in your last hours. How unfair! Young and innocent and beautiful; tender flesh torn by the cruel whips, wrists and feet nailed to the timber behind you; left to writhe in torment before a mocking crowd as life slowly wanes. My heart would be desperate to take you down, bind your wounds and return you to the tender care of those most dear. But helpless to overpower those who would put you to this horrible death, I would do anything I could to ease your pain and the anguish in those tearful, despairing eyes. I would not leave you. My eyes would be fixed upon yours so in the terrifying loneliness of crucifixion you might see that someone cared for you. I would pray with you for mercy and strength to bear the torment. I would remain at the foot of your cross until the last. I would always remember you and what you went through…and at the end you would know that you were loved, even if by a stranger.
 
serendipity said:
Danielle, your depiction of such terrible physical and emotional suffering is heartrending, and has spawned a thread that challenges us to respond! As a stranger at the foot of your cross I would be transfixed - unable to turn away for to do so would be to abandon you in your last hours. How unfair! Young and innocent and beautiful; tender flesh torn by the cruel whips, wrists and feet nailed to the timber behind you; left to writhe in torment before a mocking crowd as life slowly wanes. My heart would be desperate to take you down, bind your wounds and return you to the tender care of those most dear. But helpless to overpower those who would put you to this horrible death, I would do anything I could to ease your pain and the anguish in those tearful, despairing eyes. I would not leave you. My eyes would be fixed upon yours so in the terrifying loneliness of crucifixion you might see that someone cared for you. I would pray with you for mercy and strength to bear the torment. I would remain at the foot of your cross until the last. I would always remember you and what you went through…and at the end you would know that you were loved, even if by a stranger.
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That is incredible.....even if you are just a stranger to me, I would draw comfort from you doing this for me...
 
I think there would be a point when I would also beg for a priest.....knowing my life was ebbing away from me and being catholic, I would feel the need to confess my sins and be absolved of them....

There is irony here too.....as I hang in pain and anguish nailed to my cross, squirming and writhing in agony and desperation, wearing only the small silver cross I always wear around my neck.....thinking, oh if I could only clutch it for comfort...
 
Danielle,

I would want to be suffering the same. Hanging on a cross, as vulnerable and in pain as you. Even if I didn't derive pleasure of any sort from it, just seeing another being suffer such misery and rejection would break my heart.

I couldn't reach out and touch you, hug you, or lessen the hurt. I might not be able to speak, tell you I love you or any comforting words.

I would hope that you would hear my struggles, and groans, and see me strain to look on you, and know that you are not alone. That someone not only cares but is with you until the end, that as our eyes met as we hung there nobody else would matter and we could exchange a tender look, a smile.

If I could do that it would mean so much to me.

:') xx
 
Danielle I love your pic, so personal!
I love your words too, even more personal, you really make me think and feel what it would be like. Would I want comfort? Would I be too ashamed to have my loved ones there? The feelings fight inside me.
 
danielle926 said:
I was just looking at my own avatar and wondering to myself what I might be doing, feeling, saying, etc once my cross was raised after I had been nailed to it. So I just decided to jot them down kind of randomly in a post.

Initially there would be screams of agony and the instant realization that I would be dying on this cross. I would want so badly to be free of my pain and anguish that my struggling would begin immediately. Squirming, writhing, hoping to somehow free myself from my cross even though the nails make it impossible.

I would be engaged in the ultimate struggle, the struggle for my life.

The cycle would be vicious. The struggle causing more agony but I would have the inner need to struggle anyway. And the more suffering that would occur, the more it would cause me to struggle.

Then, between my sobbing and my moans of agony, would come the pleas for help. I would force myself to look around and pick out people to make eye contact with. Then beg them for help. Hoping I could make them see and understand the suffering I am going through. I want them to look in my eyes to see the pain, anguish and desperation that I am in. I could imagine how I would beg and plead. "Please somebody help me, please I beg you, please please help me".

I would bow my head at times in desperation. Other times I would throw it back in desperation. I would shake my head from side to side letting everyone know this shouldn't be happening to me. But it is. And there is nothing I can do. The helplessness would begin to overwhelm me.

I think at times I would look over at my wrists and see them nailed. See the blood running and dripping from them. But then quickly look away, almost unable to believe that I am really nailed to this cross. That I am being crucified.

Being catholic, that would finally kick in. And people would hear me begin to pray. Not standard prayers at first, but prayers I am making up. Prayers of desperation, begging for help, mercy and comfort. "dear god please comfort me, please, I beg you. Please dear lord have mercy on me, please help me through this agony, please god please". Things like that. Praying through moans and sobs of pain.

I would need to feel loved so badly, that if I saw a friend or relative there I would look down at them and beg them, "please, please tell me you love me, oh god please tell me that please...".

Eventually I would be heard praying standard prayers, still hoping those prayers will bring mercy and comfort. I could imagine trying to struggle more when I was getting weaker, knowing the end was near, struggling again for my life.

I'm not sure what the last thing I would say would be but I imagine it might be something like this. While looking down at anyone there that was a friend or relative that cared about me, I would probably say something like "please remember me and what I went through, I love you and please pray for me...."
Click to expand...

This is very intense Danielle. I was myself often wondering what it would be like, to be nailed or tied to the cross.
The perspective of the victim is one of so many different perspectives, when we are talking about a crucifiction.

It could have been possible, that after the flogging and the march with the crossbeam on the back, as a victim I'm not really able to see that much, while I'm marching in the crowd with the soldiers around me.
Even when the procession stops, and the cross is assembled on the ground, I'm having the crowd blocking a lot of my sight.

Then being stripped and forced to the wood, with the executers working around me, I can only see these people from the crucifiction team, or when I look straight up, the sky.
I smell the sweat and blood, while they are taking over my body.

I look to the left and can imagine, that they are placing the nail to my wrist, then scream out and try to bend, when they drive it through my bones, into the wood.

But many hands hold me in place, as they bend my knees and nail my feet to the footrest.
I don't really understand what they are doing, as they place a plug between my upper thighs.
Now they raise the cross and I'm just a little above eye level, it is now, that I can watch the scenery.
Others have been crucified with me, there are so many spectators, that you can hardly pick out the crucified in the cowd.
To my left, a woman has been nailed to her cross, bending forward, her long thin and straight hair hanging down, the breasts slowly dangling.
She turns her eyes towards me, insulting me, because of my decreased sex. I reply on the same emotional and intellectual level, with a comment about her breasts and her big nipples :). The pain though is unbearable,
I have to scream while I try to sit on the plug.
A few yards in front of us, amongst the crowd, another man and a woman have been tied to their crosses, with their arms behind the crossbar.
I can see the their heads moving up and down, and sometimes even get a glance at the glistening, maltreated and bloodstained bodies.
 
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I can not remember to have red Danielle926-poem, that is it, a non-rhymed poem in the direction of an epopee. She possesses a cornucopia of words and images, all sentences are sweet. I would have her pic beside my bed.

Perfect Christian, though intensely suffering, so does she think about a fellow creature.
 
cire said:
This is very intense Danielle. I was myself often wondering what it would be like, to be nailed or tied to the cross.
The perspective of the victim is one of so many different perspectives, when we are talking about a crucifiction.

It could have been possible, that after the flogging and the march with the crossbeam on the back, as a victim I'm not really able to see that much, while I'm marching in the crowd with the soldiers around me.
Even when the procession stops, and the cross is assembled on the ground, I'm having the crowd blocking a lot of my sight.

Then being stripped and forced to the wood, with the executers working around me, I can only see these people from the crucifiction team, or when I look straight up, the sky.
I smell the sweat and blood, while they are taking over my body.

I look to the left and can imagine, that they are placing the nail to my wrist, then scream out and try to bend, when they drive it through my bones, into the wood.

But many hands hold me in place, as they bend my knees and nail my feet to the footrest.
I don't really understand what they are doing, as they place a plug between my upper thighs.
Now they raise the cross and I'm just a little above eye level, it is now, that I can watch the scenery.
Others have been crucified with me, there are so many spectators, that you can hardly pick out the crucified in the cowd.
To my left, a woman has been nailed to her cross, bending forward, her long thin and straight hair hanging down, the breasts slowly dangling.
She turns her eyes towards me, insulting me, because of my decreased sex. I reply on the same emotional and intellectual level, with a comment about her breasts and her big nipples :). The pain though is unbearable,
I have to scream while I try to sit on the plug.
A few yards in front of us, amongst the crowd, another man and a woman have been tied to their crosses, with their arms behind the crossbar.
I can see the their heads moving up and down, and sometimes even get a glance at the glistening, maltreated and bloodstained bodies.
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When I was nailed to my cross the pain was very intence...I will never do it again.
 
cmeinsen said:
When I was nailed to my cross the pain was very intence...I will never do it again.
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and the nails they used for you were small, planished and disinfected
 
Eulalia said:
'planished' is a lovely word, but I don't think we've got it in English :D
it suggests 'polished', 'burnished', smooth, clean and shiny?
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gladmaken
polish (up)
met polijststaal ook burnish
met betrekking tot metaal ook planish
met schuurpapier ook sand(paper)
met polijstschijf ook buff (up)
 
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