Friday, February 01, 2013

The Thing Behind the Thing

<data:blog.pageName/> - <data:blog.title/> <data:blog.pageTitle/> Swipe grime from the kitchen light and wrestle the fixture into ceiling-grip submission. Flavor the quinoa. Turn on the radio. No, not that jangly shit. Insert the dissonant strings and half diminished sevenths. I need to be met first.

Dreamt of having what is here now. Behind it, the ache for freedom. It snuck in, when? This bird-cat in an open-wire-door prison paralysis.

What is the thing behind the thing? 

The thing invented to avoid the gritty steeping stench sludge-mire thing. A toxic, exotic, hypnotic thing to cover the other thing. Thing layers. Surface tension. Implosion. 

Pain layers. Mask, cover, again. Didn’t I tell you to shut up and hide?

Where’s the mirror to see this from another angle? 

What is the thing behind the thing? Behind that it’s a man, that work with its ignored deadlines, that money not coming in. Behind feeling the only choice is to suck it up and do it the way they want and expect, Daddy Longlegs self-spread so wide there’s only energy and focus to hold upright and still while not touching or connecting anywhere it counts.
Behind the snarky Fox familial breakdown sexual orientation, the handpainted undulating feathery fallopian tube feminine-owning creation, the not-again face-searing allergic reaction beauty-age desperation, the juicy brand new tube of sensuous rouge self-identification, the dark-chocolate consumption equivalent to the percentage on the label comfort-sweetness deprivation.

Behind the I will not go.
Behind the Just a little more.
Behind the Not yet.
Behind the I forgot.

Dare you to have better? More?

Remember your heart.

The pain of avoidance is infinitely, deeply more longlasting than the
white-hot flash pain of breathtakingly clear truth, now. 

I choose a word out of my own folded-paper-filled bowl: Gratitude.

Heart, remembered.

Another imperfect post, accompanied by:
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Trista Hill is a professional harpist and fine artist, creativity coach, educator in the arts, and Board-Certified Music Therapist. What her formal degrees in music and art gave her pale in comparsion to the gifts she's experienced in working with creatives just like you. Visit her website — — for links to her blog, performances, and other fantastical creative offerings.