Don't Be This

1). The Theft

That person with multiple talents told herself she was doing a favour by withdrawing. Kept  her music to herself, did not publish, share with the world. 

She retreated int o what she thought was humility, not realizing  pride was controlling her, stealing her potential destiny to the world.

Her journey to the end was of regret. But never sure what exactly what she was regretting.

At the end, she was washed with a feeling that she could have done better.

By then, the negativity had crept into her soul.

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2). The Worm

At the beginning when the negativity crept into her mouth. Then it crept into her emotions. Then the negativity began the creep into the soul.  

The negativity affected her relationships and activities. She became surrounded by people- surrounded herself by- people that served the false pride of negativity. People who told her who she was not whom she listened to, in order to sustain the lie.

Like a worm, the negativity dug deeper, a  corner of the soul grew  darker and more shaded. 

When flashes of light came and went, she associated the joy and expansiveness to pain, because the worm in her soul had already infested her being, convinced her listening, her thoughts, her speech-  and now her heart-  that she was not who she deep down knew she was. 

3). The Missed Opportunity

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An ill-fated, heart-wrenching love affair tore her apart.

She sat up in the middle of the night.

Her self image too broken to care, her whole being immersed in pain. The worm temporarily withered.

In those moments she was present with it all. The words flew out.

But as life moved on and she moved with it-  she healed, juiced up and the worm resumed its regular volume and once again dried up the authentic expression, as her brain regurgitated back into cycles of excuses for her existence itself.

Brain chatter that said- I must seek permission. I must be good enough. Whispers that hid presumptions of bing wrong as is. The chatter said- I must have a happy audience to my life to be okay. I must have an ill-defined but not currently attainable wildly successful professional future.

 She must she must, she must. 

It was like entering a tunnel with a cacophony of shoulds and woulds and conditionals.

She healed from the love lost (was it ever love? if it was, how can it be gone), but with scars. And lost herself once more. 

4). The Tragedy

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And so she carried on, shunted between conflicting motivations. 

Finding herself. Losing herself.

And then- sometimes at moments she could not predict- she was centered.

Glimpses of a profoundly peaceful murmur in the middle of the two extremes, as her being furiously vibrated with the Muse.

___

That confusing Muse. 

The most central part of her. 

That part of which her soul was completely embedded. That Holy Muse. And yet she was both fighting it and making love to it and losing her place in her practical life. 

___

So she buried her muse and died.

5).

And you will never know who she was.

She never found out, either.

Not what she had to give. 

She thought she was being humble. But the reality? 

She became by her own volition less than who she was. 

Because she honored not herself, but the imaginary audience to her existence.

Her spark was withered by projected conflicts with the world, with her own existence.

Do not be that person.