BOX

BOX
We so enjoy putting each other into boxes, you know, he or she is a this or that, wearing that beret, cap or hat, just to show what they’re at.
No mistaking their tribe, religion, regiment, job or rank, that puts us in our place, by the place in which we work, as in factory or bank.
So, do we bring it on ourselves? Nothing wrong but we tend to follow our peer group uniform, and trend, in case we stand out in a throng.
Of course that is exactly what we do, we become part of the norm, in saying we want to be different, we actually conform.
Certain jobs demand a uniform that’s meant, with company logo as a personalised statement and advertisement.
So yes, we do bring it on our selves, we don’t have to use our voice, but in this strange age we even tattoo ourselves to show our choice.
Maybe to one person like mum, sweetheart, group or gang, we want to show to the world with whom we hang.
There are, of course, similar choices made inside where we put things in boxes without voices.
But therein lies a problem, that few without help can sort, because we tend to leave all our boxes open and that leads to mental discord.
Knowing how we think and use our minds, is the greatest attribute in clearing the clutter from thought, and avoiding the monkey chatter.
On the contrary wavelength, we can hide stuff in our mental hives and forget that those repositories ever survived.
Is your mind a hive of activity, full of honeyed sweetness, or subject to constant invasion by unwanted business?
It is easy to blame a failing memory or shame, but we may find that we hid that box, knowing the contents too painful, even to give a name.
If seen as Pandora’s box, that if opened would unleash a host of troubles not only onto the one, but like a plague of falling rocks
In this case it would be prudent not to open the box, but to make sure it smothers, as we let go of baggage and beliefs that belong to others.
After the family had received their presents, and hunted for foxes, on the next day the servants in grand houses, were given their Christmas boxes.
Would that we could provide the mind with a bin box, to clear of all unwanted thoughts, ready for a brand New Year.
Whether that be a sign, after our day of birth, after the day of His birth or after the singing of Auld Lang Syne.
Perhaps the old acquaintance should be forgot and never brought to mind again, let clearance continue as we review our lot.
When the most powerfully creative tool is freed of all obstruction, each box closed until required, leaves the mind free to be creative.
Free to witness for which we truly have a yen, bringing happiness into the consciousness, leaving that box always open.
Hanukah & the Angel

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About David

Devonian writer
This entry was posted in HAPPINESS, POEMS and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to BOX

  1. Love your post David, a story of hope when each chooses to use a box to set ourself free rather than imprison us. Thankyou. Much love x

    Like

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