Solitude matters, and for some people it’s the air that they breathe (Susan Cain)
Thank you Susan Cain for your talk on Ted that was brought to my attention by an equally introverted fb friend, Rue Hass. It came very timely after I wrote this last night, in my head, and on paper this morning.
Waiting for the body to grow up and clarity of mind to dawn
to know where to go
when what you like is not good enough
& you’re good at everything except what counts……
If I am the only one
who can see –
– is it really so?
If there is no
confirmation
to be found in the
outside world
Am I just too early
or is it all a delusion?
A ruse of what is a possibility
destined to never actually be
there being noone who knows
how to nurture it
least of all me.
Over and over the drumming was heard
and the choir of 99% chimed in.
The last percent was busy doing
what I should have been doing
playing for fun.
Now I look around the bar
in a place where if you don’t work behind one
people want to be in one
drinking and enjoying
your self?
In the crush of other people
the noise almost deafening
I don’t want to shout and shout and lip-read.
Snatches of sentences
words without meanings
whatever I want to convey
shortened almost beyond recognition and
crammed into something of fewest words possible
what can be yelled at an other
conversation in tatters
I don’t want to wince every time the speakers hit another tinny high
every time the once boy now supposedly grown up who spent weeks and weeks learning to
make that piercing awful sound
more suited for a footie match.
It adds an other discordant note to the ones already
ringing in my ears.
I keep doing this to myself.
This is what people enjoy,
this is what they do for fun,
a voice whispers in my head.
I feel so odd
so alien to this side of the human race
coz I can’t help longing to be somewhere else.
I keep doing this
going out to join the others
trying to be part of
rather than removed from
trying to be a human and in some small part fit in.
Thinking
hoping
sometimes in the past even praying
that at some point
the switch in me will flip &
it will become fun, enjoyable.
I’m still waiting.
Back when I was still expected to be a sheep
all at once
nothing and everything.
All lived under the life draining law of Jante
that would attempt to grind any and all aspirations
out of us
‘for our own good’
and ‘to prevent disappointment’.
So the flock still runs
like flocks everywhere do
multiplying
baaaaahahahaha.
And the one who supposedly broke free
still feels wing clipped and
the chains dragging behind
wondering if it is too late to
learn to fly!
gain overall views
soaring high above the ground
the wind on my face and beneath my
stubby wings.
I get lost
trying to find myself
I get lost
trying to find my way back to myself
i get myself lost in
what could I have been?
my wind reduced to a restless rodent.
I tell myself
Let it go
let it all go
digging around in yesterdays
isn’t going to move me
upwards and onwards,
just act like quicksand
for my spirit.
Invisible tethers
for the eagle I long to be.
Being a shaman is a bit like being a unicorn in a herd of horses, one get’s judged as a defective horse. (Bear Heart)
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