The human mind is an incredible tool. It is a busy little elf.
And one of the most amazing quirks is the way it manages to keep secrets from itself.
When the tool is an invisible one, this should come as no surprise.
The words we tell ourselves can easily turn into lies.
And then, nothing about our experience is clear.
We might be feeling sad inside while grinning from ear to ear.
At half-past ten, I might feel a little bored.
But when asked how I’m doing, my self-image strikes a chord.
“I”m having the best day ever!” I might say.
Afraid to relax into the intimacy of not having my way.
Of being seen as less than ideal.
Afraid of being seen as someone who needs to change, grow and heal.
It’s so much easier to change the subject or claim ignorance.
My own skirting of the issues is a funny little dance.
Inside, I cry, I wail and moan.
Outside, my true expression is out on loan.
“There’s no bounce in your step anymore!” They might say
“How did your liveliness get up and walk away?”
“I’m just calm and serene” I could respond.
“So deep and internal with just a wave of my wand”
And yet I am hiding the fact that my represented experience is just made of wax.
A sculpture I have lovingly crafted.
So that my loved ones aren’t concerned, my peace seems to have lasted.
Out in the cold, the bitter resentments.
“Oh it’s no problem, I’ve got the patience”
But do I really, for real? Or am I just creating a bubble in which I can’t feel?
There’s only so much time in the day.
And knowing this habit, I see another way.
A lifestyle in which I am who I am
without “trying to be”, without being a ham.
Without reaching out to be seen in a light
And thus relieving myself of internal fight.
What if I was just allowed to feel broken? Stupid and cowardly and desperate for tokens?
What if my goals were shattered apart?
What if I no longer held in my farts?
What if all along while I was waiting for peace,
I was stepping on my heart, which is the key.
I had it all backward, I’m sorry to say.
I put the cart before the horse, and boy did I pay.
I paid and I paid, and I paid some more.
No wonder I felt a bit like a whore.
Giving all of my nectar away,
all for the hope that I’d be applauded someday.
And funny enough, when it finally came.
I was too tired to care, it was all just the same.
I was no longer in place to receive any love,
Just leave me alone, I’m way too tough.
Too rough around the edges, too lonely for fun.
I would offer you friendship, but it burnt up in the sun.
I was toiling and boiling and praying for change,
while all along I had my own legs.
There were no chains around me, only fictional bars.
The prison is made suppressing the heart.
The material seems impossibly strong.
And the prison sentence seems impossibly long.
But the trick and the secret is owning it all.
Even the warden is me, and the chain and the ball.
The bars are my memories, distorted as such.
In just the right way so I can’t move very much.
I’ve created a sweet little game,
in which there are no winners (and yet I’m still seeking fame).
It’s funny just how silly this is,
I am almost literally standing in piss.
It’s not fun and yet I’m deluded as such,
pretending the applause is the perfect crutch.
Love me and love me and love me some more,
But I can’t really receive the wholeness in store.
I had to learn over and over and over again,
love is not approval, it just represents it.
Love is the touch of your mouth on your tongue.
Love is the upper and lower as one.
Love is the only, the every, the whole.
The mind can’t stand a pervasive type school.
Lies and habits and silly delusions,
all want to mark love as “an intrusion”.
To make the truth into evil is so incredibly clever,
it is a way of distracting by triggering a lever.
So please, I ask you kindly this day.
Let us just let the love in, so we can be on our way!
