When we take a moment to look within, and see the flux and changeability inherently swirling around inside us, a bubble is popped for a brief exchange of wakefulness and remembrance, once again. The whole story is laid out in front of us, in all its glory and gutter. Sometimes I cringe and cower at what I behold, in the horror and terror of my own theatre, center stage in the show of my life. How do I reconcile these demons backstage, in the driver’s seat of my life? In the driver’s seat of my life… Wake up, wake up, open your eyes vanilla sky. Then the unfolding is seen as the illusive it truly is, changeable, malleable, liquid ice and high stakes dice. We can alter the story at any moment, just by allowing it to be seen, observed, witnessed. We can watch the theatre unfolding right before our eyes, and step back for a time, and not identify, Behold the fluidity of impermanence in wonder and detached emptiness.
Who are these demons within anyway? Where do they come from, and how do I approach them? It is so basic really, but the mind wants to complicate and explicate everything. So much twisted psychological wanderings all leading down the path to self flajulation. Bad girl, bad girl. Where is the good inside? Always hanging over me like a ball and chain, this reminder of the lowest of the low that is perceived and believed as me deep down. Hiding, running, denying. Armor, walls, shields and daggers. Do not let the cat out of the bag, run like hell. Hunker in and hold down the hatch, squeeze and don’t breathe in… clench and tighten till the culprit is forgotten.