Psychologists are supposed to be brave and anxiety-free. But I have a confession to make: One thing really makes me nervous. So what am I talking about?
Singing! I love to sing, and sing ALL the time. I even make my own songs, and have a inner diva that I don’t want to introduce to the world. But recently I’ve tried to challenge my fears, and for this reason I’m doing something that makes my heart beat wildly: I’m sharing a song with my readers. If you want to comment, feel free to do so. You don’t even have to be nice about it, honest feedback is appreciated. After all, how are we able to become better if we don’t know what we should get better at? If somebody has the app smule and want to sing together with me, I would be delighted.
So, I’m letting go of my fear to become free. Because if you love to do something, you just have to follow your heart, no matter how it terrifies you
Have you ever thought about how central smell is? In mere seconds it can resurrect
dead memories and refill your basket of emotions. Who hasn’t felt happiness as they smell odors reminding them of childhood experiences? The smell of baked goods, the waft of spring air. But what if a smell turns on fright? When perfume from a stranger set you right back to earlier days of abuse and fright ?
The ones who control your fears can be smelled like rats can smell danger and evade it. Like marionettes we follow our leaders, polluting their environment with the smell of money and greed. Our heads are downcast, as we bow to our faith. We try to block the odor from entering our nose but the marionettes must follow all rules. We can’t complain, just hang there until we’re clipped off our prisons or wires. Until then, we can only remember the smell of roses to keep us sane, to keep us walking, with strings attached
Can you hear the gathering sounds of creatures coming nearer to where you are, alone in an area where no bushes can hide you, no trees can be climbed and no weapons be found? Can you feel a scream building up inside you? Terror threatening to rise? And this clarity, this strange terrible clarity that shouldn`t be here right now. Can you feel it? I hope you can`t.
I have a basket wherein I put memories, moments and stories. The last days I have filled it with some tales that will never gather dust in the shelf. I have walked around in the woods, collecting rare fungus; Some cannot be categorized yet. They shall lie in a lonely pile, away from the group since they might be from a different class. They will get their sub-class and their own identity at last, but for now it`s enough to know they exist.
Last week I found a blog that interested me a lot. Since then, I have learned a lot from the blog owner. One thing he has said, is: Pieces starts to collect automatically, and soon you can see the whole picture. What will my eyes rest upon? Why have I the last two days have songs and thoughts related to death (my post yesterday was about someone who lost her daughter) ? Why have I felt tiny trinkets of terror, of fright that I still am able to quell. It still threatens to break away from their shackles. What is the shackles holding back? Which beast is lurking? Is the thoughts related to death just symbolic? Can it mean the “death” of my “old” self, a new beginning or that something will change?
And what . And what if it isn`t ?
Stop every clock.
Stars are in shock.
The river would run to the sea.
I won’t let you fly.
I won’t say goodbye.
I won’t let you slip away from me.
RyanDan – Tears Of An Angel
- The beast within (fredrikkayser.wordpress.com)