“Be still and welcome the truths for which you are ready and
with each exhale, release the lies that no longer serve you. Feel the sense of
lightness, surrender and trust that belong to you. Breathe”
I am laying down in my bed, listening to Gregorian music. It
is normally my therapy music when there is a lot on my mind. It doesn’t really
cheer me up but I lose myself and I forget for a while. Anyway, the first song
playing is called WEAKENED SOUL. It talks about being able to give and not
being able to receive. It makes sense I guess yet it has no real relation to
what is going on in my mind.
As I listen to song, I remember seeing this homeless man in
my head. He used to sit somewhere on the tetteh quarshie- adenta road. He would sit there, surrounded by empty cans
bottles, patched dirty clothing, sacks full of more cans and bottles. He seemed
oblivious to the fast cars as they speed by. Most of the time, he had just one
can in hand, peering inside as if he was searching for something that is
supposed to be there, or he would simply sleep on his sacks. He was always
surrounded by his numerous belongings. The picture you see when you pass by him
is pure filth, compiled at one place on an ordinarily clean highway. It was
really hard to miss.
I keep wondering how much his possessions mean to him, this
cluster. Are they just junk? Does he
remember where and why he picked up each can? Does he have a story for all of
them? If I had the courage to talk to him would he tell me what all those
things were? Does he keep collecting the
cans because he is looking for something he hasn’t found yet? Maybe not. Maybe
he is simply an old hungry homeless man.
I don’t know where I am going with this.
I have been asking myself how different I am from this man.
Phase to phase, experience to experience, achievements to achievements, hurt to
hurt, mistake to mistake, failure to failure; do I pass through the times to
collect one more empty can? When we are born, we try to walk, run, understand,
love, to be loved, belong; and while we do this, our circumstances, man-made or
not, shape us into what we become. Good or bad, it is to whose benefit? When is
it enough? What are we looking for? What do we get back?
If acceptance, contentment, love and above all, happiness are
what we seek, how can we when we do not understand what these things are? I
already know it takes little to be any of these things, if we truly have a
healthy perception of ourselves and what we believe we deserve, so why is it so
costly? why does it take so long?
This piece of writing answers nothing, it solves nothing, and
it destroys nothing. It really is NOTHING.
Perhaps I will keep collecting cans, sucking out its
fleeting gift of happiness, if it be happiness at all, until the next one;
until it starts to make sense. i guess.