Headlit Rabbit Headless Rooster
Are we not gifted with Human Spirit to overcome our Human Condition, to glue back together our broken dreams and restore hope?
This week Gina destroyed her dream. Fear strode through her life, each step crushing, dominating, binding her into the old established familiar comfortable pattern of terror and frustration, leaving her shapeshifting between headlit rabbit and headless rooster, from paralysis to panic chased by the demons and monsters of her mind’s own creation into the well known corners of immobility there to curl up in the inner darkness, weeping, wailing and grinding her teeth. In rigid silence.
Did she realise how she created each situation to satisfy her need for abandonment, escape and self-destruction?
Could hope rise again?
“Yes,” she cried, “I will find the right person, someone I can truly love, someone who loves me the way I want.”
And did she know how many of the right persons she had already met who, in the first flush of love, had seemed to fulfil those needs? Is there a right person? Kindred spirit, soul mate, cosmic consort, whatever? When you have it you know it, they say. And then, like every other situation, everything depends on what you do with it.
Love is so easily destroyed, promises so easily made so easily broken, words of hope so easily denied, passion so easily poisoned.
“I could not be with him,” she wept, “for I know I would let him down and disappoint him.”
“Where is the evidence for that assumption? How much of it is in your mind and how much real? How likely is this imagined disaster, really?”
The answer a sob of silence. She had dug her fortifications well.
“Would you even give it the chance?”
The question bounced off the wall of tears.
“Are you not, by stifling this relationship before it even finds its breath, are you not letting him down already? And disappointing him?”
Enough already! Tormenting her as she tormented him. Why could she simply not acknowledge Fear as her true Lover, who will be with her till death and possibly even beyond?
What to do when the dream dies? Maybe not spend too much time trying to mend a broken dream.
Take breath, take hope and look inside. What makes you tick? Could you change it? Try acknowledging it first.
Maybe dream a new dream, see if you can keep it, make it reality.
The wise ones say free yourself from dependence on others for only within yourself can you find true happiness.
Very wise. Very lonesome.
Everyone wants someone to love. There are those whose fear takes them into isolation, in caves, in monasteries, as recluses. We admire them, don’t we, the monks who have fled the human condition. We admire the face they present to the world for we are blind to what they conceal. Are there twelve just ones anywhere?
Find your own way. Be yourself.
I saw this once and it still inspires me, and even those lost to Fear can construct it into one of their well-planned defences:
Dance like you’re not being watched
Work like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ve never been hurt
Live like tomorrow you’ll die.
Be festive. I travel alone and back in the spring-time.
This week Gina destroyed her dream. Fear strode through her life, each step crushing, dominating, binding her into the old established familiar comfortable pattern of terror and frustration, leaving her shapeshifting between headlit rabbit and headless rooster, from paralysis to panic chased by the demons and monsters of her mind’s own creation into the well known corners of immobility there to curl up in the inner darkness, weeping, wailing and grinding her teeth. In rigid silence.
Did she realise how she created each situation to satisfy her need for abandonment, escape and self-destruction?
Could hope rise again?
“Yes,” she cried, “I will find the right person, someone I can truly love, someone who loves me the way I want.”
And did she know how many of the right persons she had already met who, in the first flush of love, had seemed to fulfil those needs? Is there a right person? Kindred spirit, soul mate, cosmic consort, whatever? When you have it you know it, they say. And then, like every other situation, everything depends on what you do with it.
Love is so easily destroyed, promises so easily made so easily broken, words of hope so easily denied, passion so easily poisoned.
“I could not be with him,” she wept, “for I know I would let him down and disappoint him.”
“Where is the evidence for that assumption? How much of it is in your mind and how much real? How likely is this imagined disaster, really?”
The answer a sob of silence. She had dug her fortifications well.
“Would you even give it the chance?”
The question bounced off the wall of tears.
“Are you not, by stifling this relationship before it even finds its breath, are you not letting him down already? And disappointing him?”
Enough already! Tormenting her as she tormented him. Why could she simply not acknowledge Fear as her true Lover, who will be with her till death and possibly even beyond?
What to do when the dream dies? Maybe not spend too much time trying to mend a broken dream.
Take breath, take hope and look inside. What makes you tick? Could you change it? Try acknowledging it first.
Maybe dream a new dream, see if you can keep it, make it reality.
The wise ones say free yourself from dependence on others for only within yourself can you find true happiness.
Very wise. Very lonesome.
Everyone wants someone to love. There are those whose fear takes them into isolation, in caves, in monasteries, as recluses. We admire them, don’t we, the monks who have fled the human condition. We admire the face they present to the world for we are blind to what they conceal. Are there twelve just ones anywhere?
Find your own way. Be yourself.
I saw this once and it still inspires me, and even those lost to Fear can construct it into one of their well-planned defences:
Dance like you’re not being watched
Work like you don’t need the money
Love like you’ve never been hurt
Live like tomorrow you’ll die.
Be festive. I travel alone and back in the spring-time.
posted by Kris Deva North at 8:29 AM
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