Upside down and backwards

Originally a meditation as a practiced focus like chewing, and now a skill to share, with people right now.

 

Place a mirror on your keyboard, print it out, flip it 180 degrees, turn it over, peer through it with a light behind it to reveal, a site of me. Hang by your feet, with a mirror in hand, and build the letters, into an idea. Upside down and backwards, the world is full of wonder.

Buttoned in “truth”, or an illustrious vision, of what could be, becomes the reality of your identity.

What and who am I? Why? When? How do you define the immaterial? Which angle should you project from? Where is the best place to start? A compartmentalized person, a categorized being, a mold to fit or else.

Will I fill your plan, doctrine, dogma, attachment, view, or design?

Build a little box, and watch as I shatter the walls. Expect the unexpected, try something new, paying attention to, I wish I was you, and what really matters events. Moments in time where envy, judgement and reason, cage a personality into pictures of poisonous perceptions. Expect the worst, and that’s what you’ll get. Insecurity is but a fear minimized, transcend it to find your soul.

Can I tell you a secret? I have what you wish you had. And then again, you would be thankful not to be me. I am as you are. I have the same hungers, the same reason for motivation, the same values. What is it but a moment in time? A feeling of sublime vanquished by doubt. And again, now, I throw it out.

Interesting to me the approach, the sliding into home, or striking out. The variable speed, emotional inflection, tonal quality speech, or little to none. I am avoiding feeling undone by your thoughts, feelings, and judgements, I am free to be. You are you, and I am me. We are safe, in a cocoon, a cave, or a sanctuary. You have yours, I have mine, and I’m willing to share mine. Are you? Can we? Why not?

I offer up gladly the pedestal of prayer, shrines of divine, keys to happiness, and hopes for the best. I have not failed your test, so now, I can attest to rest.

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2 comments

  1. This reminds me of the song, “Animal” by Mike Snow.

    In your eyes I see the eyes of somebody I knew before, long ago
    But I’m still trying to make my mind up.
    Am I free or am I tied up?
    I change shapes just to hide in this place
    But I’m still, I’m still an animal.
    Nobody knows it but me when I slip
    Yeah I slip, I’m still an animal.

    Like

    1. Thank you for that. Some places inside where the growl grows, are meant to be held close, shared in a poem, or hinted at in vague lines of abstraction…..for me. I love to be an artist, because it means to me, that I am free to associate thoughts, feelings, and writing, with free expression, and find a break in the cage of domestic standards of the institutional thought, I was taught. Grow wild, and wildly grow, in order to share, and care to be aware, of the challenge you dare. Ah hah! There is an animal in there. I swear. I drop. I fail. I wail. I pale. And yet, at the end of the day, I am wary, to share of what to you, may be scary. Edit. Delete. Cut. And if that was it, I would not build at all.

      Like

The pharmacy of your mind prescribing for my pleasure

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