Errant Elephants
Distortion
Acrobatics
Aiming to maintain
Equilibrium
Errant elephants
Deviance
dealings
Discomfort
You can transcend
All the contortions we go through just not to be ourselves for a few hours. ~Keith Richards
Synthetic feelings are the worst. This sort of chagrined stance that causes you to experience cornering. Sensing we’re boxed in cavities of our own creation. Such hindrances to our happiness ought to be handled with care. What to do when too many elephants have entered your metaphorical rooms? Often, where we bump up against our deformities is how we become informed. Those regions of our relationships where we get wiggly. Abbreviating our authenticity for the sake of kowtowing to another’s volatility or covertness. You probably know them. Individuals who prefer to be surrounded by submissives. Any others who are like sport to them. Bumbling beside our egoistical avoidance can leave us lost in a tumbling shuffle of emotions. Usually, I find that it’s merely a sign to move into a new space. Figuratively heady or literally in the physical sphere, both may construct the needed distance to miss further stampedes.
Herding what is problematic is about as easy and irresistible as shrinking monster piles of animal dung. I am the queen of a hypocritically discordant peacemaking tango. My profoundly personal design always poses me hanging from these fakery lurches. I persistently allow the trampling of my truth. Since someone else’s fury or haughty silence leaps from their body before I’m able to share my reality. Although, I keep trying varied plateaus of outsmarting the commerce of my poop. I seek to respect the behemoth divide between me and anyone that overtakes the air we’re mutually breathing. While I don’t appreciate wholly unfiltered people, it would be deceptive if I didn’t note that at times I do envy their brazen behavior. Then, I attempt to internally reintroduce myself as an adversary of theirs. Even hoping to induce them into some form of productive play. Bring on the flexurbation.
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery ~Redemption Song by Bob Marley and the Wailers
Yes, it’s dangerous to game your elephantine arenas. Yet, it’s for taming the tantrums that may lacerate you into scattered pieces. It isn’t that abysmal alliances are how I look to pass my days. I’m going around doing things by and for myself mostly the last seven(teen: if you’re counting the sheer bohemian) years. Choosing who I’ll spend each week or month with, in which state or country, and how long I’ll stay. But my traipsings are composed of thick-skinned trappings. Mastodonian characterizations that exploit my integration. Goading goliath clusters where I end up manipulating the mustering of my serenity symmetry. Members of my village who can’t control their conniptions nor trot sapient communication. Leaving little latitude for self-fidelity. Mastering a roundup of our crowded perturbations involves an intoxicant of besting your balance. Humans regularly require a hooch of fragility stirred with compromise.
Better understanding the parades of superficiality, ours and externally, might trumpet the gentle giants of transformation. Psychological purgatory is a cerebral place where it’s colossally loony that we aren’t set up mildly. Instead, lumbering short-tempering could cajole a mellow measure of zen or at least a restful amnesty. Discriminate intellect wraps itself in approachable appraisal. A titration of poaching the thought that you can be everything for everybody you cope with and giving it a chance to mend or march on. When you remember that it isn’t mandatory that you remain chained to the truncatingly unskilled. Nobody wants to be locked to the infirmed. There’s simply no way you shall ever change that which is unwilling. It’s their trunk to unpack. However, I think that by connecting with our evasive craptasticness we’re actually intertwining with our capacity for expanse. Never forget that it can be good to revere the enterprise of reversal.
Be nimble enough to learn to live without limbo.
