Mindfullness at war - see!

Mindfullness at war – see!

Right! It´s me again. I ought to be the character in a story like this. Have to, for the sake of coming out as a mad woman. Right again! There is nothing correct about me, not in my mind. See, Henry Miller once declared that writers are the true criminals. So. I told Carline at the library that I once stold a book. What about it? Gotta prove I am out of the correct path. Mad. Crazy. But I can assure you I have tried it all. To turn back to normality, I mean. Over and over... Just one thing. Being sane does not suit me…

I have been put away from the big lines of life. If I were a man they would cheer at me. Now I just have to trace back habits that seem to put me back in line. Although. Yep, I tried Mindfullness sessions. Just that I did not, not yet, got the clue of it. I cannot calm down in the way I ought to. The meditation teacher told me though I was on the path. Path to what? Enlightment? Gotta become a saint or a yogi or a Buddha, well? Right!

I went off with my private driver (Limousine and all. Shining black and all….) to buy myself a CD-recorder. The inexpensive...So, came back home. Phoned a sort of friend just to ask if he could help me with that stuff. Machinery and technology is not my sort of hobby. Nor work for that matter. He showed the goddamn thing to me. This and that button. This replay, that forward. Stop and go, go and stop. Pause is that botton. Off is where the sign is. Just check the icons. Right! I tell you now. Those button drove me crazy. Frustrated. Irritated. Up the roof my feelings went. I should simply listen to the CD that the Minfullness instructor gave me. Weird. Hu?

The player did for sure test my energy, see what I mean? I am that character in this short story...I must learn how to relax….right! JUST DO IT! Sit down the floor and push into your mind those Christ Heaven saints words and phrases and sentences...Energy level rose high. Sure. Right! Why don´t I just buy a Sex Pistol CD and blow off it all. Energy level could be my co-worker. Right. Follow in the stream of anger and pissed off way, just to rid myself off what burdens me. Right? Sure….Gotta do it. Just that I cannot do it in the suspected way. I am the suspect…

I am too much of an artist, that´s the problem. My words will follow me down the grave. My anger as well. Will I end in hell??? Anger rides me. Anger hits me…

So finally I sat down the floor. Listened to the body scanning. My toes my feet my soles my hips my legs my hand my palms my stomach my chest my breast my neck my arms my ribs my skin my solar plexus – anger right at that spot! Chakra point on me...ANGER and all the will power. I got loads of it. Though. It burdens me down. I sense all gravitation. I feel in and pile up all my energy that gotta peep out my eyes...Finally my face lips nose forehead skull down my sceleton and cells and DNA….stock from Poland gotta bleed my past relatives gotta bleed with ´em...Chakra and will power at war. Gotta learn to be mindfull. Right! Right ahead! War on me...Who´s at war?

So I AM AWARE of being who I am. Got no way out of it, see what I mean? See it all way through my ribbon? Takes me bit by bit to feel all bodily height and weight and all through the nose, inhale and blow out and back again. Sense every breath. Deeper down the core of my own being. I am the Zen Master of sadism. Right? Gotta serve somebody if it takes my body to become aware. But yoga got me. Felt it inside of me. I AM AWARE OF PAIN. It cannot be lust can it? Pain is hell. Gotta make me notice it all. Hell - awarness. To hell with all my helpers. Let them ride the wave of universal breath, see if I care. I NOTICE! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? It is the season for mad poets. The corner of my mouth, inhale and blow out. I have had enough of people trying to show me the path. Although that doctor, Malina, she is cute and nice. She thought I could be okey with that being in my mind. (THE WHAT – WHAT?) Slow down. MC. Gotta ride the zen bike to heaven. My boy he was my Bhuddist boy. I was 32 and he was 46. He had the tricks to make me become aware of sense of humour. We laughed off an hour or three. At that State Own work. A weird place for mad and Heller moment 22. A very weird place if you ask me. The machines did not work. Not even the strikes could work our way, as the boss was a true Socialist. Thinking about our debates back at that work. We discussed religion more that we did the proper work. State owned. Right. I gotta make sure I don´t talk behind the boss back. Well. He gotta miss my face but left me alone with the harassment. I was not aware of how fun the idiot work was, not until I came to Britain. There, at the Brit-o-Lang school we were at odds with the solar plexus chakra. My teacher told me I was not that mad. As her favourite author was Virginia Woolf. Mad woman she was, just like me...Schizofrenia can´t be anyone. Not a day like this. And I AM AWARE of my voices, just chatting off my anger. Being aware of it…

Piew...right? Ninentynine words – I gotta come through the word count, or else I gonna become more mad and angry. PISSED….one thousand and twelve and so forth ...MAD MEN BEYOND THE SOLAR SYSTEM. Universal power count on me…!!! Aware of being totally complex about myself.