Tag: repression

Earlier in the month-

Dear Self,

It is a fairly cool September morning. I am sitting on the back porch drinking coffee. My husband is doing the same. The lizard couple is emerging from their porch umbrella bed.

It is 8:23 a.m. and I am observing the stone chicken on the porch nearby.

She sits near our “Philosopher’s Rock”…so named because of the human and gargoyle statues that sit on that rock while pondering great thoughts.

The stone chicken is actually made of cement and is about a foot tall and heavy. Most of the paint that decorated her is long gone, weathered away by whatever elements she has been exposed to over the years. There is a hint of green at her base that is meant to represent grass, and a hint of yellow on one leg. Her beak is a bit chipped.

She was in our yard in Shreveport when I was a child, so she is at least 65 years old! We moved to Austin and for some reason my parent’s hauled her with us. After a year, they bought a house and she resided there for the next 49 years, until my mother died. Then her heaviness became part of our yard statue collection.

“Chicken” is often used to call out someone’s fear. This morning I am contemplating my own fears…some quite heavy. Fears that I have carried with me all these years…some acquired in Shreveport and some gathered here.

In the past few years I have been planning on painting the stone chicken’s bare skin. I might use bright paint in multiple colors. I might paint each feather a different color. This is only a plan. I do have the paint, but whether I ever paint the thing is to be determined.

It occurs to me, as I compare the stone chicken to my own fears…have I painted over and prettied up my own fears? In layers of…searching for words here…the word for pushing your feelings down…the words for pretending all was just fine…the words for pushing them, the fears and anger, away…I am in awe that I have carried these old feelings with me these many, many years. I know they have weighted down my spirit. Does knowing this allow me to release these old feelings? Well, that is a work in progress.

Maybe someday I will feel lighter, like this little wren perched on the stone chicken’s head.