"And she powders her hair in gold"
The epitaph for one became the definition of life for another.
I have recently come to find, by the aid of a pop-up internet psychoanalytical quiz (!) administered to me by a friend (!) that the problems in my life are merely as big as the deer I see when I walk on an imaginary pathway through a make-belief forest. Which on hindsight, was only a small doe, with glittery eyes and nimble feet. Perhaps a female chitra horin, shining brightly with an aura of its own. I had stared at the doe and it had stared right back, with utmost curiosity. And then with a sense of great bravado, the beautiful shonar horin had leaped and fled back into the depths of the woods. My interaction with the imaginary animal supposedly represents the way I handle these problems in my life. So what does that mean? I stare my troubles down without solving them. I look at them and think about them untill they become an unsolvable enigma. They eventually realise I am not the one to walk away so they flee? Idk.
Recently, I have managed to find myself in a rather awkward fork, in the twited road of life. Initially I thought that I had taken the road less travelled but that is proving to be harder to handle then I had expected. My impateince gets in the way of my sensible decision making......a lot. Confusing me, destroying what little confidence I have left. My emotions fly every which way and I get stuck in this abyss of indecision. I overthink every non- existent sign and find symbols in the wind.
I usually walk around aimlessly in the afternoon snow with my ipod stuck on the same track; "La Valse D'Amelie (Piano) by Yann Tiersen". I imagine Paris in the spring. The chill of the cobblestone sidewalks and the fresh scent of the early morning blues. Somewhere a wood stove has been cleaned and the ashes smell like home when truck drivers sit around a small wood fire, warming their cold fingers during a cold spell. I imagine an unnamed dock, a grey horizon changing slowly into a bright yellow sunrise. The sky with its many many colored facets. I imagine living in an old attic studio filled with paints, paintbrushes, rollers, papers, bins of brilliant acrylics and many semi- finished, finished painted and sketched on canvases that range in size from huge to tiny.Here every day I re-invent myself and question my existence. I can close my eyes and see the slanted window that graces one of the walls that face outside. I can see the little prismatic cut glass charm that hangs from the window sill. Every morning the sun disperses off the little charm and swarms the wooden floor with small rainbows. Every morning I miss home.
I now know that these images are my way out. Every time my brain fails me and I see the haunting golden doe of troubling thoughts, I retire my senses. As a defense mechanism the back of my eyelids become projection screens and I see my happy place. A place where in real life I would only end up if every major decision that I have ever made in life was cancelled out and re- evaluated. Thats how I fight my troubles,i stare at them blankly, with utmost respect and curiosity. Then I retreat to a place where all my troubles are non-existent. I hide.
Which is going to be my solution to this next dilemma I face. I am retreating. Finding my sanctuary and re- evaluating my choices. Not giving up. Never giving up.
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