When the wind lashes at the trees it sounds like rain. Close your eyes and there’s a whole storm out there. That’s what it’s like inside my mind. The reality is just a bit of wind blowing the trees, but my mind convinces me that it’s an horrendous storm that I can’t weather.
Opening the blinds, I find a bright blue sky. Fluffy white clouds polka dot the blue, reminding me of the wallpaper in Andy’s room in Toy Story. Feeling the cool breeze filtering in through the slither of a gap in the windows, I’m gently caressed awake. The funk of our slumber, though fractured and weak, is being replaced by this refreshing breeze. If only it were that simple for the mind, for the breeze to gently replace the funk.
The sound of a plane breaking through the sky is a roar from the gods. Thunderous and powerful. There’s a reason thunder and lightning storms have always terrified me: the gods are angry at me, I’d think. But half the time it’s just a plane. A real, tangible, logical thing. An everyday occurrence. And my thoughts can be planes, loud and scary, but they’re just planes. Just everyday things. Pay them no mind and they’re soon gone. The same is true for real thunder storms. They make more noise than damage.
My head makes more noise than damage.
The painting that is the view from my window is rather beautiful. A kaleidoscope of colour: blue, white, green, brown, and beige. As I walk over to the window, inviting myself to join the painting, I see more to add to the image. Now there’s the red from the neighbour’s flowerbed. Red on the neighbour’s bike. A golden glow casting over it all from the early sunlight. And that’s what I need to do to weather this storm: try to see more to create a bigger, clearer image. Maybe that’s all there is to it. Not changing anything, just seeing more to the truth of the matter. A wider perspective. A larger lens.
Sincerely,
S. xx
S. R. Crawford 