My mind is a cheetah, fast and precise but on the hunt for potential threats as oppose to nourishment. It never rests, it rarely leaves the lookout to other members of its coalition and it prides itself on being the fastest and wildest thing about me.

My mind is like that frantic mum moment, when she gets a call to say her constantly vexed mother-in-law is just up the road and like magic she starts blustering about the house, every cushion plumped, every toy boxed and a kettle drowned out my the whistling wisp as she blows about every room in fear of judgement. But no matter how pristine the abode, there’s always something out of nook.

My mind is in resistance mode. I’m not entirely sure what it is resisting at this point but it feels resistant to me. Like it kind of wants to sit in a silent box and do nothing but engulf itself into madness. Then there is that paradox where it needs to know what goes on outside its stubbornly self made hell. If anything it is resisting itself and I am approving of that fight.

It may well be resisting more flashbacks so I can get through the next few weeks with minimal stress and malfunctioning brain meltdowns (I am moving house) It may well be attempting to save me from what ails and threatens.

It may well be resisting the fact I can now visibly see that I CAN manifest the life I want; this house move proves that and my mind, well it’s always known misery, so it is often overwhelmed when the light shines. It needs sunglasses and factor 1000 just to accept ‘we did it.’

My mind is me. So technically I am resisting something. But then again, many say the mind is a separate entity; the subconscious rattling around its own neighbourhood while I consciously pitter-patter around the house avoiding humanity.

My mind is fast paced; the Olympian of my world. Now I just need to coach it to a retirement, where it can live out its days on a metaphorical boat, with shimmering waves and gentle sun. A place where it can sip its chamomile tea in peace while it gets a massage on those worn athletic feet. A paradise with native flute music, lazy hammocks and plenty of tall trees for shade. Yeah, that’s what the mind’s retirement needs; an empathetic and more grounding life. That’s what we’ll manifest next.