Morning rolls around and jolts me awake. My eyes open wide with the first movements I make.
This twilight twinkle and my lucid mind are the perfect recipe for creativity unconfined.
Guess who else is awake? The reptilian brain. The one who mongers fear, anxiety and pain.
He yelps “Aha! Now’s the time to attack, when she’s most susceptible to me talking smack.”
This is when he whispers, so faintly, so low, all my unfounded worries that life has bestowed.
He’s done this for decades. And had me gripped for quite long. But now I easily recognise his stench and looped song.
My line of defence against his useless pleads is now a simple line that shines light on my needs.
“First things first”.
I will listen to your worries but first things first: what needs attending to is my bodily thirst.
I get up and quench the drought of the night, drink a glass full of water and soak up the daylight.
“But what about this, and how about that??” he says now more loudly right off the bat.
It will be attended to… but first things first:
The music. The movement. The love-making. The life unrehearsed.
At this point of the morning he may still twitch and complain. It’s already too late, the dragons are slain.
I have done my part, I’ve taken care of me. Now I’m more firmly rooted in who I want to be.
I can hear you out now, my reptilian friend, and to your woes and fears I can duly tend.
But, alas, he’s curled up asleep in a slumberous ball. I guess his “urgent” matters were not pressing after all.