Thursday, January 6, 2011

Which One Do You Feed?

I am writing this in response to a Comment that I have received to a previous Post I wrote entitled “Accolades”.

looking around every bit of my body screams wicked loud like the voice in my head which right now is oddly only a murmur. a white board on the wall that matches the cast on my leg says Sunday and i wonder for an instant and then it hits, a hospital room. foggy, foggy, memory, final inning, i've snapped the ball high and straight and i'm running hard, always running toward another something. screams serve to drown the beast in my mind as i dig in harder. the catcher reaches up and in a split second i decide to slide in under rather than eat the dirt. all i hear are cheers but i'm engulfed suddenly by the crack of something else and pain, so much pain and then the dark. voices in the hall now, my brother and another man. "Osteopenia, but she's only 13! What's WRONG with her?" the machine marking out my heartbeats picks up the pace, Mum wakes & the hate i feel toward myself returns. trying to just be normal i search my drugged mind for something to say while the tube interferes with my voice. "did we win, Mum?" "What?" "the game, did we win?" i croak back. tears brim high up to her pupils and she says "of course honey, you're my little winner." and i have to look away, try not to feel her hand in mine because all i can hear is the abrupt laughter of the voice repeating SOME WINNER over and over. and i know NOTHING will be good enough again because now they all know. nothing i can dream to say will be normal so i just get quiet for another twenty some years. and i dare not pray for him to leave me just in case like an ugly virus he would go on to infect someone better than i will ever be.

Yes, and were I to tell you that your writing is extremely moving, my sentiment would, undoubtedly, join the ranks of other compliments you have received, as the negativity in your mind continues to twist a plus into a minus.

Understand clearly that you are not at fault for how your thinking developed. You were unaware of its process. However, once you come to understand its inception, with help and encouragement, you can make yourself available to arrest and alter its negative course.

You do “dare to pray” for the negative mind to leave you because, though it is definitely ugly, it is not a “virus”. It is a mental construct, a misinformed mindset, which requires re-informing to reform correctly. To say “someone better than i will ever be” confirms the negative pathway in your brain. It is essential to learn to practice positivity and kindness about yourself.

One evening when I was giving a lecture, a therapist in the audience asked me if I had heard the story of a boy in a Native American village, who was walking back and forth talking to himself. When asked by a visitor the reason for this curious behavior, the Shaman answered:
“Inside the mind of the youth, there is a struggle – between the red dog and the blue dog.”
With some concern, the perturbed visitor questioned “But which one will win?”
The Shaman wisely responded: “Whichever one he feeds.”

Make every day that passes count in your favor. With comprehension, caring, compassion and courage, this transition – from negativity to positivity, can be made. Be tolerant with yourself, the process, and with the possible unawareness of others. Patience is a special gift of this experience.

p.s. you are loved.


Biddy Stitch said...

I love you Peggy. Just the reminder I needed :)

Shoshana said...

Thanks Peggy. So true, so real. Scary. I needed to hear this. If we aren't responsible for this way of thinking, then how are we responsible for reversing it? This thing in my head is a beast! Love u!!! XOXOXO

Esther said...

Wow, written beautiful and above all; so true..


Anonymous said...

If you had any idea the person in front of you, their suffering, would you feed them? Or would there be conditions?

If it's not an easy question to answer from the outside I imagine it isn't possible to answer from the inside. The hate wins because the afflicted understands all too well the language that is everywhere; the uncommon language is that of love. Is it any wonder precious people die? Until enough people hurt or the right people hurt nothing changes. Nothing can change because we've all gotten so convinced we're listening to the supposed right people when that isn't possible farther from reality.

What kind of world is this that doing the right thing is so difficult?

Jack & Mia

Anonymous said...

Happy Birthday

love you