If intending to write poetry, i’d want to have a play, see what came out my fingers and consider what was to say.
Trying to think about this doesn’t really work and brings up more feeling of inadequate depictions, decidedly no-more going into silly descriptions.
Firstly coming from a base of open-ease, letting whats here be noted fully and clearly seen.
The question: “what do I want to share; something of meaning or a ditty of non-care?”
Well as I left work the thoughts that arose, loosing my job and nothing else but self-piteous prose.
They rolled and appeared like as if from a dream: ‘Was I to loose my job; just wanting to let out a frustrated scream.’ Almost scary as it all appears, if not so obviously an unknown, neither here-nor-there tears un-sewn.
The technique I know is to ‘let it be’, relax with the appearances of mirage like scenes. They come and they go as if traffic on the road, flying by in the dozen I can just let them go. Here comes another one: it looks like the last, first an emotion, then a sensation; a sigh as it passed and next a bizarre elation ‘ooh’ no just another squiggly sensation….
More than two hours the feelings at play, flowing-on-by, pouring out steam as if a freight train, writing text messages from yes, ‘this wonderful minder’, to my boss that it was all fine..err? He could not go into it verbally I’d prefer and would just go, ‘not to worry him’ I could sit without a job and write witty prose!
Finally receiving a call: “hello Sarah, it’s nice to hear your voice, thank you so much for the babies beautiful card, she does love you so, would you like to work for us some more this next week”….(we hope your well and have had a comfortable eek, no need to play out this little girl meek).
Oh, it was not as I thought, no need to go into data as one sought, nothing to look into, or after, all hopes gone, just ‘letting it all be as wisdom shines on.’
Generally the opposite to what one thinks, is the truth of the matter it sinks…
into disarray and paranoid frets, relaxing deeply held, a warm bath we could compare, bubbles popping just settling suds in hair.
Who am I at the end of the day? nothing but the joy of a heart burst in every moments play.
Arn’t we lucky to know we’re not our thoughts, only spacious wonderful minders of benefits easy, laid-back cool, kickback relaxin ‘non-learnings nothin’ super school!’