Monday, April 13, 2015

To Kill a Chicken

Sometimes it feels like my brains are tangled up and wrapped around some dark unknown thing that needs to come out. Last night was like that, and today it has faded but continues to linger somewhere in the back of my head. I don't need to be afraid of the thing, but I don't know what to do with it either. Maybe it can be teased out through creative work in the next few days (or weeks). Or maybe it will go away on its own.

In the meantime, I sit down to type, hoping to keep my creative momentum going. My attention has begun to shift toward old friendships, people I haven't seen in a long time, but who I would like to see. Fear arrives, of course, but I don't want to listen to it. The what if questions surface almost imperceptibly, but I have become better at snagging those rascally impostors and chucking them out, even if I can only be rid of them for a few moments.

The worst I can do is let my fear control me. Sometimes it helps to say out loud to my fear, "Thou art not real," or I can imagine myself stomping on it until it's gone. Or I can just... you know... breathe and let love motivate me. The kind of fear that seems to trip me up the most is the fear of what other people think. For instance, if I want to see an old friend who happens to be a man, I might be scared that other people will think I'm up to something adulterous when I'm actually not. But I consider the bumper sticker quote: "What other people think of me is none of my business."

And now, or at least very soon, I shall attempt to kill my inner chicken. Wish me luck.

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