Why?
DO you know that feeling when you ask someone for directions, even though you know where you’re going and get angry with yourself for not knowing?
DO you know that feeling when you apply for that job knowing you are marking down the day when you give that up and look for the next job?
DO you know that feeling when you capitulate to live a life that is scripted for you, that is on the roadmap that everyone clings to yet everyone despises?
DO you know that feeling when you question “Well how did I get here?” And there is a ream of paper loaded with the answer, just waiting for response time. Why?
The idea that there is someone inside of you enabling that conversation with yourself. Two of us , always at odds because he knows your every move, predicts it and then mocks you when you **** up.
Speak like she wants, dress up like he wants, dance like they want, **** like indecisive wants, work like they want, love like we all want and think like it wants. Why?
Two of us, living day to day, never coming to an agreement because somehow your bluster shines and you don’t need help. You swagger on the boulevard, trust the way to get what you want, seize the road to riches and you are the king.
And you are the one that is chafed, you are the one that flies into a rage while driving on a road and have no empathy for how other driver feels. You are the one that boils over from nothing, from such a surprising place that has no origin and seeks all home. Why?
There is huge rage and you’re not sure why it is so big. It comes from nowhere and it pours out like a molten flow of vitriolic lava, seeking to scorch and burn, eager to destroy whatever stands in your way and you are scared. You are terrified because you don’t comprehend what it means but why it is so intimate and why it is so appropriate and yet it is heinous.
You’re a good person, you are full of love, you care for other people, you really want to make everything OK. Where does the poison come from and what is it’s purpose. Why?
Every now and then you have an exchange with that other guy. You conform to interact thinking you compliancy and he is settled and will be acceptant. That conversation with yourself while you brush your teeth and wonder why YOU are not happy. And there is an answer that you find in your eyes that is deeper than the most distant empty space between the oldest stars in the universe.
He answers, “You know the answer *******, you have it all inside of you and yet you hide behind the fear.” The fear of not understanding why you can’t accept it, why you can’t accept the idea, why you can’t accept …me. Why?
It comes from the vault guy. He lives in a locked room with a huge steel door that can’t be opened from the inside. It’s dark and plain and blends together and offers no expanse. He has been there since you were old enough to form words and thoughts and fears. He can only come out when it is safe and non-judgmental and expected.
He is in this vault and HE is the one that is ******* ******. Why does he have to stay in there? Why does he live alone with great thoughts but is sequestered in a patented place. Why can’t he be out and the one that lives in each moment and somehow understands that that is all there is? Why?
See, he is the cool one, with all the allure and charm and warmth. He is the one that writes great poetry. He is the one that turns everyday illusion into a Rorschach full of meaning and depth and beauty.
He finds it from his guts, from his heart and from the stream that is ceaseless and pure and unaltered. From a place of unfiltered joy and gratitude. And yet HE lives in a vault. Why?
All he wants is to walk in the same place, to see the same magic, to hear the lilt of the world, to touch the sensual electric of fine curves and silken hair, to smell the scent of a warm ocean breeze under a cavernous full moon. To be treated with love and compassion and understanding.
To be accepted for who he really is. Do you understand?
Why not?