The accustom sheet of insider yoga

almost to a 1000 posts

THE ACCUSTOM SHEET OF INSIDER YOGA

And now, our next disappearing trick in the bed-side grave is coming to…
Oh no, there’s no end, is there? Does this mean I’ve got to cry on the wall forever?
OK, I will allow one question.
Just one?
This is the pickled onion factory calling: we are full of vinegar today.
Déjà vu?
Yes, we’ve all been here before.
Ok then, can I have a discount?
No.
What about a refund?
No.
Another state of mind perhaps?
That’s up to you.
They say that taking back control must be a battle fought with hard wisdom.
Yes, there are many voices that can be heard, but in the end it must come down to which one you must serve best.
I don’t want to serve any voices.
Not even the ice cream voice?
Especially not the ice cream voice…
We have an accustom sheet to take you through it.
What are you talking about?
As I asked this a morbid mumble was heard to expire to become etched into eternity through the spirals of time.
Was this a red herring I thought? No, it couldn’t be, too much of a coincidence; best to forget it and keep on going.
The next ironing board to hit me square on came out of nowhere as I was looking down from above myself and so far below I hadn’t a clue anymore so I pulled out a map and began to explore it.
The script is broken so throw it away, said the voices.
I would if only I could I said.
As I bent down to tie up my shoelaces ever tighter I mumbled:
I don’t care
The machine can’t have me
Maybe that is why
I go nowhere at all.
Like some survivor past ten o clock in another storm hidden on the beach where the moon rises over the oceans making the song of making for the winds to blow away.
I heard all this from the insider yoga and just knew I had to take a rain-check from it, maybe time-out for the day.
As I gathered up my eyes to head south to round up the crowd I was asked another favour to complete all the negotiations, but I was past it and turned it down.
And then I thought: what is quieter than a miracle?
There was silence for a moment, until a quiet voice said: maybe a little place to look out from.
The audience liked this and gave a smattering of applause that grew roses all the way up my arms, and although I drank lots of orange juice I didn’t come down from it for ages.

Image from me