Picturebook

"Blue, green, pfff is this called purple, grey, green, red, green, grey, white, yellow, green, grey, green, blue..."

"What comes up?"

"I am thinking about work".

"Okay, focus on that".

"Grey, yellow, blue, grey, purple, white, yellow, green, blue, yellow, red, grey, blue, white..."

"What comes up?"

"I remembered a movie I saw once, it was funny. I'm also pretty hungry".

"Okay, continue with that".

"Grey, white, red, yellow, white, green, red, blue, purple, blue, green, grey, yellow....."

"Okay, now let's go back to the picture together. How much tension do you feel?"

"Umm, a seven?"

"What detail of the picture causes this?"

"Well, he's still there".

"Okay, we carry on further".

"Grey, yellow, blue, green, yellow, blue, purple, yellow, red, white, green, white, blue, red, white, purple..."

The lights keep blinking on the small screen, shapes changing. Your head is heavy, eyelids are half closed. You can hear the other person scribble down some notes. The room is bare and sterile. It feels bureaucratic. A box of tissues is on the table but you don't really see it.

Your thoughts are like changing channels of an old telly. Sometimes there is static. You carry on anyway. Colors and sounds fill the air, and there's static snow on the telly.

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That picture book had way too many pictures in it.

We all have one actually. A picture book.

We usually hide it deep in a box, never to see the light of day.

Have you ever paused from your all-busy schedule?

Take a pause, and simply wonder-

"What is inside my picture book?"

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Have you heard of Pandora's box? Well, the classic story goes on like this: Pandora was a girl who was brought a gift from the gods to humanity. No comment there, cultural and historical context related. Her name literally meant "all gifts" or "all gifted". The gods gave her a box, or a "pithos", which was sort of a clay jar, with instructions never to open it. Clever so far? Most versions of the story end with curiosity and greed overcoming Pandora and/or humanity and opening the jar releasing the plague and all the evils of the world. Only hope was left. A bit sad countermeasure if you ask me, but different strokes for different folks.. This was supposed to be a lesson to be obedient and Pandora was portrayed as a curious disobedient woman. Having accidentally released evil and plagues, she was consoled only by mere hope. But hope is expectation and expectation is pain.

Honestly, it somehow looks like it ended up as a boring parable. However, let's look at the other side of the coin, another version of the story that I heard once. There was this stoic witch living off the mountain, probably an occasion for another story. The witch had all sorts and lots of pets, she was cool, not like those who eat children in the stories. I wonder how these stories came to be. Anyway, she said, if you believe that everything already exists within the world, and within the self, the box or the clay jar represents what you want to hide, not have in the open. It has your fears, your monsters, your anger, your sorrows, but also so much more; it's your picture book.

You decide to explore for any different reason: curiosity, pain, frustration, or purely the joy of the unknown. A true explorer. One piece of advice: When you open it, it cannot close, it should not close again. You need to open it carefully and with reverence, and respect.

And, yeah, the pictures grow, and they grow like the monsters under your bed, in your dreams, in your head. They feed on the darkness. When we open our box, take out the picture book, dust it, and let it air in the morning breeze, there is this reaction. You see, like vampires, wandering forest spirits, or demonic beasts of old fairytales before they get destroyed by the warmth of the first sunlight, they sound a last growl, they let out a last howl.

Well... It's only expected, it's part of the "monstra" job description. What would you think of them otherwise?

When you walk your path, and live long enough without opening the box, without looking at the picture book, you tend to underestimate or even forget what's inside. It's like spring cleaning where you organize your closet and you find a piece of clothing you didn't even remember was there. Waiting for you. When you are a tired and weary traveler, when you see something that sparks that memory, they will be there, when you live that over and over again. And again, you can see, hear, smell, taste, and touch everything. There is no Artificial Reality like it (at least so far), nothing like what the human brain can conjure.

All those pictures from the book come alive in a mysterious way. Firing up your brain synapses, your memories are slightly altered and scattered like pieces of a puzzle. They don't always fit together, and it's frustrating. Your senses are a bit blurred and confused, and you are back there. In the middle of a tornado, with bits of memories whirling and twirling around you. You are frozen, passive, simply observing them, sense of time is missing. Like a deer in front of the lights, you feel overpowered. The current is intense.

We, humans, try to run away, to escape, distract our minds, overstimulate ourselves into oblivion. It's like holding a balloon filled with air in your hands, pushing it to the bottom of the sea. If we accidentally let go, it ascends ever faster to the surface.

It might seem cheesy and of course counterintuitive, but the only way to beat those Fears, pains, and sorrows, is when you face them. Soak them in, but not drown in them. You bring the battle to them, and you look at them in the eye. Look at the pictures. Feel the feelings, allow them to come and go, and breathe. They are just pictures after all, they can't harm you in the here and now, unless you let them.

True explorers seek to know themselves along the way. The journey within is a long one. When you realize that you are fine even after all those things, they don't have any more power over you. This doesn't mean you don't get sad or a bit upset when you recall those pictures. But they are not scary anymore. Because you are not afraid anymore.

You posture yourself as a strong person. Can you try to sit up as if you are a strong person? A resilient person.

Breathe as a brave person?

You are.

And you are almost free.