The Forest of Curious Creatures

Beneath the luscious canopy of beautiful trees,
in the very dark wood.

There lived a goblin,
who was up to no good.

While the greenery gasped and smiled at the sun,
the goblin liked to play tricks and none of them were fun.

***

This is what it’s like to live in the forest of my head. Your life tree can be healthy and growing, joyful and jubilant. But, underneath it all, there lives a sneaky goblin who occasionally prompts you to think of the worst things, or to make imaginary, emergency backup plans in case all the trees come tumbling down.

You see, this is where I am right now. There’s a level of weariness to me that I’ve been ignoring or submerging into a sea of “Other Stuff To Do”, like you pretend not to look at the spilt juice on the counter top, or you try to ignore the sink of dirty dishes until you just cannot put another plate in.

This morning, for whatever reason it may be, I tried to jam another dish into the sink. And, just like that, my sneaky goblin came out to play.

He’s been sending letters and notification alerts to my brain that he’s bored and wants to run around a bit, but I’ve ignored him. Instead, I’ve re-channelled his chirps into “Finding Other Things Important” or “Over Investing Energy Into Things That Don’t Matter”. And now, because I’ve let him fester so long, he’s pissed off and taking over the forest.

A revolt, so to speak. One that stalls all progress, takes everything too seriously and, if I’m not careful, he’ll probably set a tree or two on fire and start ruining stuff. He makes so much noise, drowning out the birds’ chirping and obliterating every single bit of gentle conversation that’s going on between the woodland creatures. He’ll bash on the bark, poke squirrels in their tummies and finally, he’ll attempt to set stuff on fire. He always does this and, before, I would let him.

The thing is though – I’m not like I was years ago. I know that if I let him run around for a while, play him all his favourite music and let him dance around the woods, he will, eventually, get tired and I can whisk him back to his place, to admire his little treasures of pebbles or whatever it is that he keeps in his satchel. I know that if I just pummel through, tolerate his playtime and let my true self respond to him for a bit, he’ll feel satiated and leave my real life alone again. The one I like – the one with the gorgeous canopy of leaves that lets through the most beautiful sunlight, dappling the life I have built below it.

Today, for whatever reason, I will let him run around. He’ll leave me alone eventually.