How It Feels and How to Change It

Ask me how it feels and I’ll say

Do you really want to know and

then I’ll tell you:

there’s a swamp rotting away in my gut,

and it’s flooded with something like gasoline

and yes, it will explode into flames if I

touch it with a match. Or, imagine this:

I’m a bear with raw bloody flesh hanging from

my vicious incisors. I shake my head and stare at

you with a savage look in my eyes.

My claws are poised to rip off your face.

Yeah, so, ok, I think that covers the emotions

scissoring through my chest this morning.

Enough of that. Now try this:

Inhale. Close your eyes and take the air

way down deep into your pelvis

and then keep it going until it fills your legs and feet.

HOLD YOURSELF FULL OF BREATH UNTIL

YOU THINK YOU MIGHT POP.

AND THEN DO ANOTHER BREATH

AND ANOTHER AND ANOTHER.

And don’t stop until you are

breathing calmly.

Now open your eyes and look out the

window at that itty bitty hummingbird

sitting on top of the shephard’s

hook. Gaze out into the lush green meadow

where the two brown horses are lazy grazing,

their tails switching.

Then stare at the red tulips and the pale

yellow daffodils in the garden.

Close your eyes again and type the word

SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN
SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN SUN

Until you can see it make everything glow.

Remember this:

there are going to be

moments

so ravaging, so

difficult

you won’t

know how

to move

forward.

So don’t even try.

Just let your (s)words

fall into warm seafoam waters.

Lie back and float on the calm blue seas that

you create out of your own stanzas.

Be grateful that you have a basket full of

four-color images ready

inside your head

and whenever you want to

you can

pour them out on paper

until the crisis passes.