Present Me

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‘I’m sad’, I said.

‘Feel into it now,’ said Present Me.

I let the sadness swish around,

Lapping at the edges of my heart

In gentle melancholic waves,

And then it ebbed away.

 

‘I’m lonely’, I said.

‘Be present to the sounds of the trees whistling in the wind’

Said Present Me.

I listened.

I became the trees and the wind.

And the loneliness ebbed away.

 

‘I’m scared’ I said,

‘Be present to your feet on the ground’

Said Present Me.

I felt the specks of dust tickle my toes

And the earth take my heels.

The fear ebbed away.

 

‘I’m without’ I said,

‘Be present to the fullness of the moment’

Said Present Me.

I let the in breath caress my lungs

And the out breath rinse my cares

Then the lack ebbed away.

 

‘I need love’ I said

‘Look inside’

Said Present Me

I rested my gaze deep within

And the need to be loved ebbed away.

 

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2019 

The Thought Constrictor

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The Thought Constrictor proudly conquers the brain of the Prey, depositing layers of delusions into what becomes a tapestry of constricting thoughtforms. With a finely-specked endoscope, ready at any moment to shine light on the lies, fantasies and destructive projections I burrow into the depths of the central nervous system and sit there as a Patient Companion. Sometimes I can hear the snake spitting out venomous messages with no apparent trigger: ‘you’ll never do it’, ‘it will never happen’, ‘you will just stagnate’or ‘there is a problem’. The words reverberate round the walls of the skull like pneumatic reminders of the futility of the Prey’s existence. Sometimes the noise is so relentless that I surrender almost entirely to it as if I’ve succumbed to the narcotic hypnotism of a cultist ritual.

Cushioned by the grey squidgy tissue I nod off for a bit but then slowly open one eye. As I do so the noise dies down. I open the other and the noise now reaches a dull plateau. Like the syncopated repetition of a pumping house track in a crowded bar it is enough to keep my attention from waning. Urged on by the fact that I now have the attention of the Prey’s brain, the snake causes more thoughts to tumble out: ‘they don’t like you’, ‘you’re not good enough’ or ‘you can’t say that’. This time, my awareness deepens and the thought forms become like an annoying brother or sister.

In order to get away from the low-level irritation I choose to jump into the eyes of the Prey’s brain and focus on the world outside of me. I focus on the passing cars; the flowy arcs weaved by the teenage skateboarder on the pavement and the jobsworthy traffic warden who triumphantly slaps a ticket on an illegally-parked Vauxhall Astra. The thoughts stop. The outside world in the moment has my attention and the snake has given the Prey the liberty of being back in his life again.

I am walked down the street until the Prey gets on a bus. He pays the driver and sits down warily at the front at a sufficient distance away from the vodka-swilling dreadlocked girls. The bus pulls away and the Prey drifts back into the maleficent stronghold of the Thought Constrictor. This time the thoughtforms are sharp and pointed:  ‘you won’t score with the ladies’, ‘you’re a loser’,it says and the thoughts pinch the Prey sharply. I am tired so I let the thoughts roll. They roll around the Prey’s head as the bus sways around every corner. The backwards and forwards motion lulls me somewhat and the thoughts come out as words in a trance ‘yooou caaan’t get a giiiirllllfriend’or ‘you are too old’ and so on. I sit there. The Passive Patient Companion.

The bus stops and causes the Prey to jolt back and forth. I look through his eyes and see that the bus has reached the last stop. The Prey gets out of his seat and walks dolefully down the stairs. He steps off the bus and wanders into Poundland. ‘What a shame’ sighs the snake, ‘you’re such a failure you have to shop at a budget shop ha ha ha!’ I am more awake now and wink at the thoughtform and it sidles off. The Thought Constictor launches another thought. I watch it and it disappears.

Ah f**k it.It’s all b****cks anyway’ says the Prey under his breath. I feel something tense up in the front of his face. I reach out towards the inside of the jaws and can feel two pockets of creases on either side of the Prey’s face where the skin has bunched up. A smile, I think. He is smiling. I do a small cartwheel on the squidgy grey matting and then go back to sleep. The snake thinks he has won now that I am snoozing but the thoughts know not to return if they are going to be met with such robust challenge.

My job is done.

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2019 

 

Packages

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We go around

in neatly folded packages.

Work-shaped, mall-shaped, party-shaped.

Sufficiently malleable to fit into each slot.

Still wrapped when we get home.

(Often tightly).

 

Tightly taped and parent-shaped for the kids.

Ribbon-tied and bug eyed for the spouse.

Always gifted

But never unwrapped.

 

What if one string were slowly pulled from the top

To reveal what was inside?

‘No!’ we protest,

‘For that would destroy the package:

the multi-version of me that is my

identity’.

 

(The ‘i’ in identity

is with a little ‘i’

for the little eye

does not want to have

the inner view).

 

Pull the string.

Because what you really are

is both inside and outside

of the parcel anyway.

 

Copyright Fizzy Wisdom 2018