The inner child

Birds were chirping outside her window on a sunny day in spring. Zenia was sitting on a wooden table that was somewhat loose from its base and had lost balance and much needed support. A small pressure of hand on the sides could easily topple everything on it.

She was playing with her fork and knife not having an urge to eat her lunch. It was a moment of solitude for her. As a writer she often felt that urge to cut herself off from everyone around, away from hustle and bustle, laughter and sighs of the real world. Seclusion gave her that freedom to be, to meet herself and to give way to her ideas; her creativity.

She always felt brave after managing to come up with a piece of writing. Yet for a very long time she felt guilty, for being lazy, for not throwing that stone of ideas in the still waters of her mind. She was missing the ripple effect, the rush of the surrounding waters, the expansion and multiplication of the circles in the disrupted mirrored surface of the waters.

Zenia was missing that enthusiasm that used to break free her still waters of habits, needs and preferences. She desperately needed that selfish, hard, irregular, abstract and somewhat unusual stone against predictable sequence. Writing for her was that emotional connection that made her feel tall, free and unmanageable.

She had built her entire life around serving others. She was not capable of coping with problems in life, she had no survival kit for life, nor an ability to make a decision. She often craved for appreciation yet felt overwhelmingly exhausted on a small word of praise. She had never fought for herself and always found herself amongst insecure people who often bullied her in their own convenience.

She was quiet, generous and forgiving with patience of a saint. Yet she was not always a saint and felt low time and again.

To choose to write on love and positivity was not less than a challenge for her. It was almost like she was reminding herself, taming herself to let go yet again, to remain calm and emerge with love, strength and enthusiasm.

There was a great unity amongst all the people who bullied her. It was such a surprise to see her abusers all on one side, to hide and protect themselves and also to support each other.

It was then when she stood up and went aside. With birds and cuckoo singing in a repetitive pattern she grabbed the pen with no ideas in her mind.

For a while the waters were still ….she felt old beyond her years, then softly she thrust herself like a blanket. It was a moment of fearful silence, with no fruitful product of imagination until….

She decided to refuse to bitterness and indignation. She decided to choose love and compassion.

The unidentified fear of infinite future, the cloud of distress and disappointment slowly dissolved. Gradually, she let go her domestic ’mind bird’ from the chicken coop.

Her mind bird wandered from deserts to grassland, mountains to thick forests.

She found her lost vision, her fragile wings, her bright colours and an ability to choose.

She could smell the crisp smell of snow, the fresh fragrance of rain, intense and gripping perfume of jasmine and feel that welcoming breeze of the sea again.

Tears of gratitude showed in her eyes. The first few words that her pen wrote was ’to love’. For she knew the modern time was full of clashes, divided attention, lack of clarity, cultural misunderstandings, insecurities and fears .., it was devoid of confidence and trust ….The times when the need of love was greater than ever.

With love she could see herself harmonious with everyone, the truth was not what she had seen in rebellious waters. She was able to understand all those rivers who treated her as ‘nothing unusual’.

The story didn’t end there… in a moment of transformation she was close to be a villain, to allow herself to be abused and become an abuser in her own time….. it was hard to break free of all conventional rules of justice…. yet choose to let love stay a bit longer….

For love was that unconventional weapon that could strike at the most unexpected time.

It was like a storm, with thunder, lightning with unexpected shower.

It had an element of surprise like a bail that could set free a disciplined and trained prisoner.

She decided to open her heart to also receive love this time.

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