Revolution

My alchemy this morning was cleaning the blinds.

Mum has been asking me to help out around the house, and there's a program in my head that wants to fight her on it… every single time.

"I have to change her," the program says.

There’s something "wrong" with her, and “right” in me, and I have to fight her until she gets it.

I bet you can guess how well that goes.

This morning, I knew.

The action of it was therapeutic. I wasn't doing it for her. I was doing it because I value freedom from attachments to programs.

The program that said I needed to change her. The program that said I’d be giving in and allowing myself to be "walked all over", if I did as I was asked.

To the rebels, try doing as your told
it won't kill you, I promise
you’re shackling yourself by attaching to the identity of a whirling dervish
clutching to your causes and moral high ground
you're only fighting yourself

I know you’re a revolutionary, but if you resist what you're creating, it will keep coming back again
the grip of the renegade needs to be loosened if you want to access a state of perpetual revolution
the death, rebirth and transformation of real life
you’re actually seeking