yellow bird don’t be mad be free

I’m simply staring at paper. How am I supposed to choose? A million swans both light and dark rise, wanting to be ridden by my mind. Which ride is mine? He asks me, “Do you see something on the paper?” I was silent but thought, “I see everything, what should I say?” It passes before your eyes. You must choose quickly. It is written on every wall- like this page that I should walk through…I could be inside. I could be the beauty I see as I write- barely able to catch it. It moves quickly and gets lost forever. Now I understand. I turned the page on which they were living. Now, you. I would hope to capture something, like your face- but I cannot move that fast. Am I a prisoner in my own dreamworld? I don’t like the place I created. It’s important to know this. He used to be the fallen angel, now he is God. He will swallow your flower. World of men…worship…worship…I got it. Satan hiding in the desert. Yes, message received. Talking makes it all flat so I can remember and interpret what is happening on the inside. Do you see a snake here? You should. Snakes live in the desert. I believe that the garden of Eden was an imaginary oasis in the desert of man. God did not create what was already here. God did not make us. What is obvious underneath has been a long time coming. It would have been too much of a commitment to another world. We have imagined God from a dry mind desert stream of hopeless despair. Oasis is a phenomena. God did not make us. Something else did. Too big to get behind. I will start by questioning the types of things that go on in the desert that drove me insane. Death by thirst. Sex with scorpions who kill themselves- which might as well be you. You know this place is dark. However hot and bright it seems by day. Dark oasis. Death inevitably permeates. I see he is different than me. I am wild inside. More like created to permanently seethe. Permanently seething as ordained. He says things like, “pretty flowers…it’s a good song.” I agree on the outside, calm and there. However, inside is the jungle oasis I pace. I know there is no real water here. I know it’s a make believe peace. I see the screaming and torment on this page…he seems peaceful. I told him I’m observing behavioral patterns. A lion stares through the words. I am in a controlled frenzy. It’s not real. What I am observing is why I feel this way and why he feels that way. The song ended between us. I think that’s why. My interpretation and reaction is more like the picture of indian  warriors he just showed me. “It’s kind of intense.” He said. I agree but could care less. He sensed this. My mind was somewhere else- Why the song ended. Why he sat wilted instead of taking the fake water. This is earth, no water is real. You don’t believe her real love. You want to die a fake death with fake flowers and dead indians everywhere? The song has left the air. I am now shifting gears to slow down the hands and faces that move our lives from behind. It was a desert until she ate the fruit. God didn’t make the garden, the woman did once the desert serpent told her to eat the fruit that could create- and so this illusion was first created on the inside and then into an oasis here with Satan. Just what I said last time. I believe we talked about it. I don’t see you bouncing off any walls. He said, “what walls?” A beautiful goddess and I are watching him now through a two way mirror like they use in prisons. He sits inside waiting to die. They gave him coloring pencils to keep him busy. I said, “do you think about the walls closing in?” He was softly humming to himself as he said, “no.”  I had to then wonder, does he really belong here for this crime or should we box him up somewhere else?  I didn’t say you were dead. I didn’t say it was a casket. It was only 1/2 ghost remember??? When I catch his face in secret moments he is not living here. How can you blame the doctor for giving the diagnosis for the condition the doctor created? This ghost boy is angry. He said, “that’s right.” I said, “but this is given by the doctor who came to visit you in your prison cell.” He didn’t know he was in prison or care. Remember my portrait that said, “let me out.” Ghost boy always leads to anger. Yellow bird is driven by the fuel of rage. You talk about direction. Rage- step 1) know you are in prison 2) CARE you are in prison. 3) I can never make it dark enough if you don’t care. It is the human condition. *you thought yellow bird lived at 1) no, that would be because we had mistakenly thought our freedom could come through another. 4) we realize the slight immensity of 3) and that no escape was possible through another. Rage then ensues. Misdirected rage. 5) breakdown phase -the result is relationship failure. Heart failure. When the heart stops the life stops. My eyes have yellow bird rage that completed the process successfully. The bird has left the cage. He says, “that’s right. I’m listening.” But I told him he was a prisoner long ago. He didn’t agree and if he did agree he mostly DIDNT CARE. Why does this person not care for this yellow bird? The anger should break the bars. For you, not hurt or blame- no freedom there.  Inside the cage- it isn’t out there….though you look look….reach reach… in moments he does not see me see him. He still doesn’t care…interesting…my story gets darker with time. Dark time is so absolute. It cannot lie to you. That’s where you have come by NOT CARING.  A benevolent goddess watches the steps 1-5- all is god’s grace. It gets louder and darker with time, the process- feels more and more like a prison. Projection perhaps? Considering my psychological work.  I am not in this picture. The prison you wish you could be in vs. he still sings however dark I hover. Only when it knows it is in a prison can the creative powers be unleashed. I cannot help him get in his cage daily. Yellow leaves my hand and mouth. The essence of yellow bird is my blessing…felt as a curse by the imprisoned…the blessing catches up like a bird with wings of light. Obviously faster than time. Perhaps his magical powers surpass even the prison of his body? Yellow bird can fly in and out of anyone’s eyes to reach another. Love frees and can be given as a key to be free. For humans are in a prison and we can fill it with heart or poison. The bird who is yellow covers the sky. My words are used for search and rescue. Freedom comes. Sharada Devi

3 thoughts on “yellow bird don’t be mad be free”

  1. i know these people , at least one. in a dream , in the past. a water world . a village of people. a separate land.
    but of course not land .
    Beings, not so much out at sea but with an expansive built up wharf world space. surrounded by water.
    not at all encompassed by land .
    One being in particular , a water being would come to me. this man of half ocean, half man.
    Very colorful . vibrant, exquisite color…
    It is vague. a transitory memory. But very real. Very vivid. He would carry me through the water.
    Through Very deep water. Safely . with much trust. He was very strong. muscular , upper torso man…
    Being half aquatic , half human . \\
    I do not understand it all. But it was very real. It happened years ago.

  2. Is yellow bird a reference to soldiers that walk into the line of fire rather than continue to fight. I took a job after not working for a year in the steel industry. Super debilitated trying to work w others. I cant wait till school’s over (for welding). Might look for another job then idk. Thanks for listening

    1. Dear Jesse,
      When to fight and when to surrender is an art. Please watch the videos I made, maybe that will help. You do not have to hurt yourself, this I know. It’s a fine line when dealing with responsibilities. However, there is a way that will work for you.
      Love and thank you for always remembering me by your thoughtful donations. Your love and care is rare and priceless. You are worth everything and must realize your precious value. Love, Sharada Devi

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