The Quintessential Nature of Questions

True Artist  © Nicki Ki, All Rights Reserved

Look at this handsome guy playing to anyone on this bridge over the River Thames. I love buskers, I admire their bravery. This muso was a little harder to tip from where I was below, but as we waved to one another, one human connected with another for a moment, captured in RAW … so, if you see him on this suspension bridge in London, please stop by to listen and drop him a couple of quid. Tell him I sent you.

Having taken a much needed hiatus from all my social networking endeavours to pursue real world matters and separate the money from my art, I feel a little better. I’ve learned a lot about mail-flaps too – but that’s another post for a different day.

So on my journeyings from when I last blogged, I’ve rested the savage beasties from the past, focused in on not only living in the moment, but also from the heart, and discovering that all the while my previous experiences forged the means of self-discovery, the vehicle with which I torment myself is still me!

What!?

Right.

When things start going well, it’s as if my fear of success wrestles everything to the ground.

Why?

For example, I’ll have a great day – most people would deem to be successful, awesome and something to write home about… instead of just allowing myself the feeling of just feeling relaxed, positive, centred and good – have a glass of Rioja, put my feet up… I’ll spend most of afterward fixating on the minutiae of my own humanity, destroying every remnant of goodwill I could be feeling toward myself.

Social anxiety is like a pyromaniacal scorpion!

The thing is, now I know I’m doing it, and I can stop it when I’m aware, awareness doesn’t automatically equate to permanent resolution, I’ve really got work hard to negotiate my intimidating, roaring, wildly bellowing, shadow opponent down from that mind-tree.

!?

Clarity is here
Joined by stark obviousness
I am now, now what?

The way forward
Through another tunnel
The way in
the way out

Mercurial haste
Lays temperate waste

I want to break free
I don’t want to fly

Why?

Hemmed into a corner with few cords binding
Last bonds impermanent
Still holding fast

Once unencumbered
Bonds transmutation to wings
Quintessential questions

What now?

© Nicki Kirk
All Rights Reserved.

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