7 February 2021
Thoughts haunt her. Thinking is like moving in a haunted house, not knowing which creature of light or darkness will stun her in the next corner. But moving she shall do. Sometimes the gifts from her father’s return home trip were the thoughts. Sometimes the ugly touch from an elderly relative. Friends’ giggles turning into mocking screams. Shame. Fear. Mother’s concerns about boyfriends. What not? Cockroaches? Lizards? Yes, those things. Spider webs hanging from the roof with the debris of dead flies. All sorts of thoughts. Songs she liked. And hated because she was listening to them and the call came rejecting her. Thoughts. thoughts, tHougHts. All sorts of thoughts. Tearing her down.
Yet in a moment drowning in silence, she could hear the little bird chirp. She even felt the sweetness of the chirp spread throughout her being. What a reward for awareness, not marred by thoughts -the ghosts from the past, or nightmares of the unknown future.
The bird returned many times. Chirped. She heard. But things changed. The little bird brooding the white egg chirped. She did not hear. Like the egg, she did not feel the warmth of the bird’s underbelly. She was lost in a space, that haunted house of thoughts. A new beginning was waiting to hatch. How easily that is lost unnoticed.
Your awareness is the tiny price you pay for a new beginning or your action.
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