Sunday, 12 August 2012

XI. Destruction

How do you remove someone, or even some belief that you have held in your mind for a long time, so it or they cease to commandeer your attentions?

Do you need to unravel each fleshy thread of thought that binds their image in your mind, carefully unpicking the most stubborn of knots, wearing your fingers bare from effort until all those threads are free, swishing in the winds of possibility waiting for you to put them to better use. A process that would consume considerable time and take concentrated effort.

Do you simply take out your metaphorical shining blade and slice the threads that tie you to their image. Unleash the deadly guillotine, cut them off and let them sail far away from you so you can no longer see them. Careful here, you might still sense their presence clouding the otherwise perfect horizon. And if you haven't done thus properly, if even the tiniest of threads remain, you'll spend great energy trying to sight them, and pull them back to the mothership, with otherworldly binocular vision and strength.

Do you create a door of the strongest substance and close it with all your might. Lock it, throw the key. Until you muster up another door and fly right through it in a tide of loneliness

Do you gather up all the thoughts you can like chasing a suitcase of money opened and scattered in the wind. Hold them down and throw a match in, watch them burn and bang the drum, beat the earth, dance around that fire until only the lightest ash remains. Your energy expired in the ceremony, you are forced to reach out and grab on to something new to fuel your mind.

Do you jump in the mud of your dreams and roll in it, stuff it in your pores, your mouth, breathe it in, until you can't stand the filth and you are ready to wash yourself clean with warm pure water and dry in white light.

Do you run, so fast, so far, build your endurance, burn your excess, strengthen your muscles, use your lungs, blister every inch of your feet until there is no chance of that ghostly spectre sinking into your imagination again.

Do you take aim with your bow and arrow, and shoot, and keep shooting until you find the perfect missile, with the right aerodynamics released along the correct flight path, in the right time, at the right speed to pierce your hated memories in the weak spot, the deadly strike, the fatal blow.


Perfect destruction.

Yesterday I was willing to try all of these. And then I meditated. For a number of hours. Something I have not done properly for a long time. And I realised some things.

I am not a destroyer, and I don't need to arm myself with countless weapons against past experiences. Already, they are over. Instead, I will trust my mind to heal itself of my supposed loss. It will repair and shape those memories so I can see their beauty and not have to hide from their blinding pain. I just need to breathe in. And out. Yes, I am alone without the vibrancy of my imagined romantic love. But I have life, and my children. And my lifelong friends. And I can walk alone with pride and passion and in beauty and leave my arms open for those who need me.

And if I am not needed, well, I will just soak up the sun, and the moonlight, and the stars, and shine.

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