No thanks
I’d rather pretend the shit didn’t exist thank you very much
I’d rather add a whole layer of other stuff on top of it
I’d rather pretend that the shit was actually roses without any thorns
I’d rather do avoid the shit, and run and hide away
I’d rather distract from the shit
Id rather bypass the shit and say it was just God’s plan for me to endure
I’d rather keep busy that sit with it.
I’d rather cover it up with comforting food
Or hope that entertainment soothes it
Or scroll on Facebook to take on even more, or get annoyed at something else
Or go to a football match or do some exercise to ‘get the anger out’
I can’t allow it to settle
That would mean accepting
Feeling it, smelling it
Sensing it in its fullest sense
Realising that it exists
And it has affected me
And I feel sad, I feel angry, I feel hurt,I feel..what ever this dose of shit makes me feel
Rage, hurt, tears, coming out, from amidst the shit
And then
The voice from within that says, you are not the shit
I am not the shit, I am bigger than it
I let it, but it isn’t devouring me, I can feel it, look at it, and realise that I am me, and the shit isn’t me
Even if I am in it or have been given it
It’s not a place to want to stay and now that I’ve felt it, I can move away
And not keep it buried, hidden or avoided to come back to..and deal with, another day. Piling more and more above it
Naming it, feeling it, sensing it, letting it settle, and be
And breathe, and know, that I am more, I am bigger, I can see
That there’s a way out, that I can take, and in the quiet of nothing
That voice , that me, is waiting to speak, and heal, repair and recover, rebuild and remake
And Ill look at the shit one day from a different place, and realise how far I am from it, and I needn’t look back, because I dealt with it once, twice or many
Clean air awaits, entices and breathes, it’s fresh and it’s pure, green grass in the fields awaiting our feet
It’ll only feel good when I haven’t cheated, and try to enjoy it with a bag full of shit, I’m still carrying around, or buried deep, hoping never to be found.
Letting it settle and letting it be
Is part of the way of making me free.
(thank you to Gabriella Russo on Facebook for the image)
James Ballantyne 