Writing Fling #1: What am I?

I want to publish some pieces of writing from last year, in the midst of upheaval and turmoil. The writing is raw and jumps around, and reflects and important time in my life.

I will put these pieces in the category 'Creative writing'. I hope you enjoy them.

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Red, green, blue, white. What is your favourite colour?

My son asks this everyday. It is his first thought when talking about anything or anyone. He wants to get a vivid picture in his mind of this thing that he is experiencing. But sometimes he knows the colour before he asks. It is like he is not really asking. Instead he is playing, exploring, conversing with the thing in his mind.

What is it?

What am I?

What colour am I?

The bunyip was on a journey of self-acceptance and discovery. And so am I.

I am 38, and feel like and adult more often than I don't, perhaps for the first time. It is more that I feel I have agency, like I have responsibility for my life. And I am taking it. I have to. This is my moment. Of redemption and renewal.

If I don't take this one there may not be another. I need the surgery to cut deep, to remove all that is dead and injured and malignant. I have left it there like a passive for too long. It would have killed me, and perhaps it already had. But that is the thing with the internal world. I can kill and resurrect there with impunity. And I must.

Enter the maze. What dies in there needs to. What survives is gold. I uncover new depth, new understanding. Actually, these words are not enough. It is like my whole view of the universe is shaken, and I am left with what settles. 

But somehow what I am left with is what I already knew. Or perhaps had a hunch about but could not squarely acknowledge.

For me, this is called backing myself. Living with the minimal amount of things. And then I learn about the things I need to work on. Being willing to disappoint others. To feel disappointed.

I want to act. Be on the front foot. Space for my mind. For my will. Penetrate. Exert. Assert. Say. Do. Speak. Don't save.

I love. I sacrifice. I slaughter. I am peace. I am a warrior.

I like war. I like death. Inside me. To the things that don't really matter. The war with these things does matter. That is the stuff of life.