A little Story of...
A little story of Shit, Smiles and Happiness
I wrote this many years ago, and it made me smile big time today, re-reading it. A story of how to work on your stuff, and the rewards when digging deep.
First off, you start with a shitload of pain, hardship, tears, childhood stuff, anger, hurt, resentment, and of course a whole lot more pain. Basically the whole shebang of icky yucky shit.
Then you find yourself a dump truck, to load all of that shit into. Because, after all, who wants to sit in their own stinky shit, right?
Then you go out, riding your shitload of shit truck, trying desperately to unload the smelly stinky stuff.
Unfortunately, very quickly you realize that nobody wants your shit, for they all got their own shit already. Loads and loads of their own shit. Well, shit then!
After a few rounds around the block, you finally decide to go home. There is just no way to unload that shit anywhere but in your own backyard.
For a while that shit is just sitting there, with all that rancid repulsive stuff. It's kind of hard to visit your backyard, even harder to invite other people in...you know, it's just a little too offensive back there.
Then you hear stories. First whispers, things that make you curious though. Those stories, they sound more like myths, rumors perhaps, spread around from one friend to another. Rumors of people's shit, transformed, not smelling anymore, and, to your utter disbelief, the reports are that there are actually beautiful things growing out of that shit.
Unfathomable, you think. That can't be true. How is that even possible!?
But, after another day of sitting in your house, smelly shit wafting through your windows and doors, your curiosity, and most of all your despair and loneliness gets the best of you...and you step into that smelly shitty backyard. Slowly you get closer, inspecting that big fat pile of yuck. You wonder how this could ever be anything but shit. But dark is the night and heavy is your heart, and you are so so tired of all that shit in your yard, you just go for it.
You dig your hands in it. Slowly first, one little finger tip. Eek, that stinks. But then you see a worm crawl through your shit, and another, and some ants and...well all kinds of creatures you would have never guessed would want to dig in your shit.
So you sit there, and you decide to dig too. And to spread it, and to inspect it, and also to just let it sit for a while, until you are ready to spread it some more. You find yourself digging, probing, uncovering, churning and turning your shit...just like those rumors, those little stories you heard here and there.
Some days the shit seems so high, you wonder how you will ever be able to get to the bottom. Some days the shit seems to suffocate you, with its offensive odor. After all, it has been sitting there for way way too long, and some of that stuff is so old, it literally stinks to heaven. Some days you call yourself crazy, for hoping and believing in some passed around, mystical stories.
But then, one day, while digging in your shit again, you see something. It is tender, and tiny, but it is there. A little sprout. A tiny little green sprout!!!
OMG! You can hardly believe your eyes. Right there, in front of you, amongst this yucky dark shit. Oh what a beauty, you think to yourself. Your heart just makes a somersault, skips a beat, and a tiny little grin spreads from cheek to cheek.
The rumors. The stories. Yes, oh yes! They are true, truer than true. Right there in front of your very eyes, magic presents itself.
All for a sudden something shifts in you. This teensy tiny bit of green just made the whole shifting and sifting, churning and turning, digging and uncovering so worthwhile. More and more you feel yourself drawn into your backyard to do some more work, to uncover those little sprouts of happiness. More and more you find yourself singing while doing so, and more and more your smile spreads into a big grin.
And then one day, you take a deep breath, and you stand there in awe, because you realize, wow, the shit has stopped to smell like shit after all. You can now smell nothing but moist, fertile, heavy, healthy soil.
You now find yourself to be one of those story spreaders. Spreading lovely tales of shit and tiny little sprouts all around your circle. Smiling when you see the big eyes looking at you in disbelief.
And then one morning, you wake up. The birds are chirping, calling you to step out into the early sunlight. Your eyes, still heavy from sleep, can't believe what they see out there in your once oh so dark and shitty backyard. There are flowers bursting with colors new to your eyes, still unknown to your once heavy soul.
You just sit down, and you take it all in, the sights of blooming blossoms bursting all around you. And your heart, oh your sweet heart, bursting open right with it!
And there you sit, and you smile, and you lay down, in this new fertile soil, and you jump full of joy, with your arms stretched wide open, welcoming your new home.
At home at last. And what a beauty it is!
My beautiful Friends, may your shit be at home with you, may your soil be fertile, may your sprouts arise, and may your garden blossom for all to see! \
May your heart be ever open like the blossoms on each flower stem. And may you smile more and more, and much much more.
I love you all so very much.
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