Hanging from a hook under my heart; a goldfish in a bag from a fairground in my teens. If always it was there, and since then I learned its words, or it grew in response, I don't know. It makes no difference that hormones settled. It pays no mind to victories since. I sit here and its tail flutters, uncoded in my blueprints: the miracle balance of bone and muscle. She tells me it's a construct of wayward associations but my truth is my life and I'm here because I lived it. So take my truth and take my past and leave a child. And I'd love to loosen but the handrail I've warmed so nicely. And I guess that it's true what they say about change, and age. But I'm not living enough for one and my orange friend makes two. So he flutters; and my world shakes.
— Spark Change (@SprkChange) September 6, 2014
Why does it take such an event as a death to afford us perspective? Maybe it is attention span, maybe once we have something to focus on we do just that. Maybe it is self preservation – a need to control potential dangers, or at least our exposure. Either way we wrap our attention around unnecessary trials and tribulations of all sizes. The most pressing truth of that is that there will always be a supply of them always waiting at the door. Always something of importance and always something to get stressed over.
There are many mantras to help that process of realignment, many places to turn to learn and advice to receive but trust is key. Read it all and hear it all and pay for your life coaches but if you do not trust them, if you do not trust the others who have been there and suffered so you do not have to then you are set to learn the same hard lessons the same hard way.