Become the sky
Take an axe to the prison wall
Escape
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
-Rumi (Excerpt from Awake in the Wild by Mark Coleman)
Lately I've been listening to an old Matchbox 20 cd, "Mad Season". (Indicative?) There is a line in one of the songs that has been riding around in my head with me.
"Technicolor dreams of black and white people."
What does it mean to be "black and white people"? Is this what Rumi was speaking of in his poetry? Is living in black and white like being in prison? Am I living only in shades of gray rather than experiencing the "full color" life I could be living? Could I transition to high def?
Reminds me of the Wizard of Oz when the house lands with a bump and Dorothy walks gingerly to the door, opens it, and there outside is a new world full of vibrance. I'm surprised she didn't shut the door and crawl back into that bed. I thinks that's what I might have done...because I've done that in my own life. I'll stick with drab and safe, thank you very much.
But I'm too old for that now. Well...ok...maybe it's not an age thing...maybe it's that I'm sick of hiding from that world out there. I'm sick of being afraid that I might get hurt out there. Maybe getting hurt (again) would be ok because maybe the joy would be worth it.
When I was younger I rode horses. Sometimes I rode them really fast. Fell off a time or two (more like a hundred). Cuts, scrapes, bruises, bite marks, hoof prints on my foot (horses sometimes like to step on you...just for fun) and more sore muscles than I care to think about. But riding out in an open field as the sun is just coming up, listening to the birds wake up and feeling the still cool dew in the air is an experience that I could never get enough of. Those moments were worth whatever pain I experienced. Back then I wasn't afraid of being hurt because I knew I'd bounce back.
When did I stop believing in bouncing back?
I have been presented with an opportunity...a chance...to bring new color to my life. I don't know how it will turn out. I can't construct a fail-safe action plan. That's something we learn as adults that truthfully boogers up everything. Action plans...harumphhhh. [That was an eye-roll and snort of derision.]
My only chance to step out into that technicolor land of Oz is surrender. Not in the "stick your hands up in the air and come quietly" kind of surrender. Rather the kind that is a shift away from having to maintain a sense of control over the outcome. This kind of surrender is nothing more, nothing less than willingness. I am willing to be present. I am willing to be brave. I am willing to open a space in my heart and I am willing to try this on for size. I am willing to be curious. That's the best part of all.
High def baby...
WS
Take an axe to the prison wall
Escape
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
-Rumi (Excerpt from Awake in the Wild by Mark Coleman)
Lately I've been listening to an old Matchbox 20 cd, "Mad Season". (Indicative?) There is a line in one of the songs that has been riding around in my head with me.
"Technicolor dreams of black and white people."
What does it mean to be "black and white people"? Is this what Rumi was speaking of in his poetry? Is living in black and white like being in prison? Am I living only in shades of gray rather than experiencing the "full color" life I could be living? Could I transition to high def?
Reminds me of the Wizard of Oz when the house lands with a bump and Dorothy walks gingerly to the door, opens it, and there outside is a new world full of vibrance. I'm surprised she didn't shut the door and crawl back into that bed. I thinks that's what I might have done...because I've done that in my own life. I'll stick with drab and safe, thank you very much.
But I'm too old for that now. Well...ok...maybe it's not an age thing...maybe it's that I'm sick of hiding from that world out there. I'm sick of being afraid that I might get hurt out there. Maybe getting hurt (again) would be ok because maybe the joy would be worth it.
When I was younger I rode horses. Sometimes I rode them really fast. Fell off a time or two (more like a hundred). Cuts, scrapes, bruises, bite marks, hoof prints on my foot (horses sometimes like to step on you...just for fun) and more sore muscles than I care to think about. But riding out in an open field as the sun is just coming up, listening to the birds wake up and feeling the still cool dew in the air is an experience that I could never get enough of. Those moments were worth whatever pain I experienced. Back then I wasn't afraid of being hurt because I knew I'd bounce back.
When did I stop believing in bouncing back?
I have been presented with an opportunity...a chance...to bring new color to my life. I don't know how it will turn out. I can't construct a fail-safe action plan. That's something we learn as adults that truthfully boogers up everything. Action plans...harumphhhh. [That was an eye-roll and snort of derision.]
My only chance to step out into that technicolor land of Oz is surrender. Not in the "stick your hands up in the air and come quietly" kind of surrender. Rather the kind that is a shift away from having to maintain a sense of control over the outcome. This kind of surrender is nothing more, nothing less than willingness. I am willing to be present. I am willing to be brave. I am willing to open a space in my heart and I am willing to try this on for size. I am willing to be curious. That's the best part of all.
High def baby...
WS
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