Earlier that day, prior to meeting Billie, I was minding my own business in the kitchen and I heard a strange sound, like something dropped or moved. I looked in the direction of the sound. My eyes didn't see the source of the sound, so my mind assumed it came from somewhere of a distant proximity and required no further attention or investigation. It wasnât a threat, nor was it a tool, nor was it beautiful. This happened twice. Then, on the third time that I heard the sound, I knew it was out of place. I had never heard sounds like that before in that space. âWhat is that?â I walk closer to where my mind and ear think the sound is coming from, but again, my eyes are the last to experience and hold the most weight in influencing my total belief/understanding. All I see is a window, a laundry bin in front of it, and the outdoors on the other side of the window, but I have to keep looking. I have to know where that sound is coming from. I have to know what it is. Why do I need to know? Is it something I should know? Can it kill me? Will it haunt me if I donât find out? Itâs something to do I suppose. I will feel something when I find out, a satisfaction. I will know something. I need to know something. I want to know something - even for a moment. I walk closer to the laundry bin. This is getting fun. Intriguing. Iâm about to find something. Iâm looking for something. There it is! Just as I had expected! Something strange and unusual. Something unexpected! Found it! I am filled with joy! There is so much mystery in the satisfaction - In the end of my search! I have found more to consider! The physical journey of searching for this thing I was looking for has ended. Now that I have seen it though, my mind is a flight! The baton has been passed to my mind, and now the search is happening there! From what to why! Why is this thing here! A new âWhatâ now, inside of a âWhyâ that was gotten from an old âWhat.â Why is it here? A treasure! A strange and valuable thing! I found it. It must be mine. I can have it. I can possess it. We, me and this thing, were meant to collide, it is a key. Something inside of me is wide open now. A new land to explore...In my laundry bin, âŠwith its legs tied together, âŠand its body trapped in a tightly tied plastic bag, - I saw a chicken. It was alive and trying its very best to escape. It had been captured, and its life was in danger. I thought, for a moment, that maybe I should cut it loose, but it was so frantic that I was sure it would hurt me or cause me extreme discomfort. Then I also thought my mother and father would be pissed because they bought it with their own money and intended to use it as food. So I talked to it for a moment. I donât remember what I said, but I did acknowledge it as myself. I did see myself in the totality of its being. Then, I walked away, went on with my life, and may or may not have thought about that chicken again until now of course, when Iâm writing our story. Me and the kitchen and the chicken, and how we were all together that time when my eyes saw my condition, on the final day of the chicken.
I thought to myself that I had been/was also sort of trapped in âplastic,â - psychological ideologies. Plastic in that they are fake, but also real in their ability to control me, but so fake that I could destroy them with a thought. A single thought.
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I think that there is a force inside of all of us, irregardless of circumstance, that is able to manifest a time and space where we are well, where we are functioning inside of and identifying ourselves as uniquely and naturally - powerful. :)
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