I want to babble. Thinking about this thing, spiritually.
Something is pressing everyone. The word press is everywhere.
Express. Repress. Oppress. Depress.
Something you have to say, something you have to do, someone you have to be.
So what is it that presses? What is IT? Some kind of force in you. You don't know what it is.
But it presses, it bubbles, it wants to surge out, go back to join with the Power from where it came. Somehow it got inside you.
Let it fly, friend. Expel the pressing from you through expression. Else, what is your other choice?
Push it back for a bit--for another time, another place.
And so you hit the middle ground: Repression. Re: Go back, not time for this, not the place for this. I do not have the time, courage, strength, love, etc. You stick it back into you into this middle area, where this little thing of energy goes from ripe to spoiled a bit. But not enough to start stinking, not yet.
So it tries to find a way back out. It keeps boiling up to the top of your consciousness. Nope.
Not ready. Can't deal. Can't cope, and now it's all rotted from all the repression. Started to stink.
Send it Deep: De-pression. Bury it so you forget what it is. The little light gets dark, the produce grows spotty, brown, eventually black.
And now it's deep and stinky, making a mess of your insides. You've forgotten it--buried under all the excuses and resentments, bitterness and complaining. Something you wouldn't allow yourself to say, do, complete. Depression.
Now that the life form has been depressed, there are all kinds of issues.
What was it we wanted to bring about?
If you do not express, you will repress, then you will depress. So please express. For all of us.
Photo is courtesy of annconnellyfineartgallery.blogspot.com--a Demond Matsuo painting. I love this series of his paintings. I want one so badly.
Whatever it may be that is being repressed, depressed--it could bless all of us if expressed.
It could poison all of us if not. There has to be a fine line between depression and oppression.
Oppression: To press against life. Nothing is right. Everything is wrong. This, that, and the other. Opposing the pressing of all life.
I see the effects of oppression and depression all around me: poverty, drugs, control, fear, pain.
But expression? I see way, way more of that. Exponentially more. I can hear it too. It's everywhere. Life bursting forth. The sun, music, everything ever written, everything ever authentically said or sung.
It may be painful through grunts, expanding, growing, screams and pushing--but what you get is worth every moment of excruciating expression. The birth of beauty.
And so may this little post help that which is pressing every single person. Let it be expressed.