The Demon Of My Everyday Life

Ink runs. Smears the page
and stains my pinky, 
leaving tracks and marking up
my writing in ugly ways. 

The wet pool pleads
for patience to let it dry, 
but I rush to write
what is on my mind. 

I am not known for patience
in these little matters
and whatever in me rages
against life is easily riled. 

I see my petty self in such acts,
cursing the computer that
will not comply or crying fowl
when things go “wrong,” 
as if the world willingly
intrudes itself on me, testing
my unchallenged belief
that I am the arbiter of manifestation, 
while this demon gleefully
finds how easily it can push my buttons. 

I am an imperfect man.
See the holes in my wholeness! 
Lots of them: traps for my unsteady feet,
blind spots to my wandering eyes. 

I seek the smooth surface,
the clean break, the perfect pitch
as if my life should be
a big screen musical:
every prop and set, 
every act and line,
laid out by design.
And perhaps it is! 
Perhaps the cursing and crying fowl
is needed for my character to develop. 
Perhaps this foolishness is part
of a silly plan to make me
a better person. 

After all, I walk my path to become
worthy of the great love, 
to prove myself to you,
praying that you will appear to me
in flesh and blood,
the beauty I have dreamed
arriving, at last, at my doorstep.   

Meanwhile, the ink runs, 
the computer stalls,
the app freezes, 
traffic snares me,
the dishes are dirty
and the laundry piles up. 

This old rage rises
like an ocean storm
tossing my to-do’s overboard, 
gusty winds blow me
off course straight toward
the rocky shoals that shipwreck
sailors better than me.

But I have a strange inkling
that those narrow straights
are exactly where I need to go. 

I must face the petty monster. 
I will never be the hero of my story
if I shy away from the demon
of my everyday life.  

Despite years of personal work and all the effort I put into changing limiting beliefs, I still find myself overlooking the most obvious ones. For example, I rarely get angry about big things or challenges, but I do rile against little inconveniences and petty things. It is a strange pattern and I trace it back to an old idea that life should be easy and things should go smoothly. I accept big things as out of my control, as examples of the greater forces in life at work. But I attach a big "should' to little things: the computer should work perfectly, the ink should flow smoothly.

The hero's journey includes facing some form of demons, and we tend to think of them as Goliath beasts, giants that block our path. We may not recognize the power little demons have overs us. We may not think it is an heroic act when it seems so small.

How can I be the hero of my own story
if I shy away from the demons
of my everyday life? 

What is your petty monster?
Who or what are the little demons of your everyday life?

© Nick LeForce
All Rights Reserved

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