John :
As a psychiatrist , I spend hours a day absorbing people ’ s stories , pulling / forming / molding / sculpting their emotions held deep in their bodies and forging them into words that begin to flow as if lava from the center of a volcano and erupt into the atmosphere where , in the words of Flannery O ’ Connor , everything that rises must converge . The universe as collective soul .
People tell me their sadness is “ like a red ball of fire with thorns entangling my heart ” or their anxiety is “ like a cannonball made of rotted fish guts and rusted fish hooks ” or their fear is “ like ancient darkness wrapped around severed hands reaching for vast emptiness .” Inside each of us are the answers , the cure . We tend to think in dichotomous extremes , blacks and whites .
Sadness – joy Fear – security Hatred – love
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If your sadness is like cold , black , metal thorns around your heart , and I can seek and find your opposite , your joy that is like the warmth of a thousand suns reflecting off turquoise water , then warm sun can teach cold , black , metal thorns how good it feels to absorb the rays of warm sun and how wonderful it is to have light to see that the thorns want to grow into dandelion flowers and then puff balls that fly apart and float in the gentle breeze . Suddenly sadness can never feel like black , cold metal thorns ever again .