Maybe I need to go live in a small village in Africa/India. I saw this video of Gabor Maté had been shared just after I wrote the poem below, trying to muddle through the highs and lows that seem to be concurrent with life.. Wasn’t going to post the poem because I don’t want to be judge or pitied by others (so I put it out to Facebook as a trial run, and got an appreciated response, and thus wanted to share it here too). I have a feeling it’s not just me and sometimes by sharing your daemons you can let others know you’re on the continuum together. No one is ‘normal’, it’s just our society likes boxes and unless you fit into a box then life can be pretty insane…
I listen, I read, I write
I process, I allow and yet still I fight..
The words of elders resonate about my being, talking of a lighter path which I think I’m seeing..
Is it this human disposition to continuously forget? Or my reason for being, I did not meet yet?
All these offerings of advice, even when wound up all succinct and concise;
in one moment they liberate my soul, in the next, I’m lost and again feel vexed..
Where do I turn when it feels like all I can do is run?
Run away or run to? I’m not sure but I’m oh so confused.
Yet again, the pearls of wisdom flood in from outside. They break the pain and make the clouds subside..
Until, the next thought comes in and crowds my mind again.
I meditate, I mediate, I relax and try not to try… But then I once again break down and cry.
Is it my condition? Or this world we live in?
To label my disposition; dyslexia, dyspraxia, hormonal or autism?..
But what do these tags really define? Am I so different? Or is it just the time?
I hear the wise words loud and clear. I pray that perhaps some ability to manage myself is near.