(yes this is a third post about ham stew it's like pandora's box everytime)
There will be words spoken and sung describing my birth, evolution and eventual destruction by those most close to my being. Although their words have merit should I not have voice to express my own percieved reality? I recall the warmth and closeness as I gradually developed awareness of the space between me and other large pots filled with hearty stew made by loving fathers, my difference, the individuality, in the the large metal pot that I now called me. It was a safe, secure womb that contained my essential essence of ham, potatoes carrots, cabbage and turnip. I cavorted within as my parts tumbled gently together, over and over until my essential essence of Being became fully formed into a beautiful expression that is best said not said but shouted in the ecstasy of creation: I am Ham Stew. I AM HAM STEW! Alright!
That beautiful beginning quickly turned to heartbreak, pain, and rejection as I was subjected to the pettiness and self importance of human awareness. As I lay before the three human entities awaiting their adoration, jubilation and consumption it slowly dawned on me that I was to be rejected. "I" was not good enough to satisfy their needs. What had I done wrong? Did I not smell wholesome enough? Was I not pleasing to the eye? Was I not nutritious and delicious (I was)?
As my world turned dark, with the harsh metallic bang of the lid being slammed on my womb, I cried quietly to myself . God damn this world for giving birth to me so that I might experience only pain and rejection and then not experience at all. God dammit. Dr. Sheehyhttps://medium.com/@mithradiumn
https://twitter.com/mitthradiumn