Words that hide
I love words. I love their taste, their texture, their extraordinary ability to protect me. When I say me, I refer to the ego concocted frequency I present to the world in order to lubricate my smoothness that shows you I'm Fine. That's what it's all about really, being fine. I'm so fine that I have wrapped in the Shroud of Turin my soul. Kept it locked away behind a veil of victimhood and deadened settling. So I build up an eloquence and a veracity that keeps you from seeing that, really when all is said and done, I WANT MY MOMMY!
And it appears that I will want my mommy till I'm dead. I keep that side of me pretty well hidden. Right behind the bitter bar at the corner. I get tremendous strength from holding onto that wound. I keep putting gauze on top of it while cutting it open again and again and saying I'm healed. See, I never had chocolate donuts as a kid and no matter how many you feed me I still will never have had enough. I mean enough then. Maybe if I did then I would be really following my dreams and not let fear and disgust stop me from forgiving myself and others. Don't let go of that old hope though Tony, otherwise you might just step into your dharma.
I want to heal, but do I really? It would probably be all the more powerful if I simply admitted that I don't want to heal and nah nah nah nah nah. Then some things may start to really move in my life. But it's the lie that I desire healing that really cuts through the mess. To see the lie is enormous progress. To accept slovenliness and littleness for what it is. Reductio ad absurdum. I have found that it is through the darkness not the light that I come to awareness. Playing small really doesn't serve anyone at all here. Except my non-donut eating bitter boy. And he still scrounging around in the corner looking for crumbs.
It's all biodegradable anywhoo.