My Triumvirate of Tyrants

All of our Parts are trying to be helpful, no matter what their behavior. When we can love them for their intentions, they can transform and become valuable consultants and protectors. Love is always the answer- starting with Loving your SELF.

My Triumvirate of Tyrants
Seeks to bully me
As they jockey for position
To find which of these big three

Paint Brush

The Paint Brush

There once was a brush, all bristly and new
Who wondered about all the things she would do.

She’d paint the skies red. She’d color seas green.
She’d become the best brush that had ever been seen.

She flittered about in a flash and a flurr
And wherever she’d go, she’d rush in a hurry.

So much to do. So much to create.
She could never sit still, and just dry up and wait.

She saw other brushes that made her feel small.
She tried even harder to out-paint them all.

Her bristles got matted. Her handle got rusty.
Her pictures were blurry. Her ideas got musty.

With nowhere to turn and no end in sight.
She frantically busied to make things feel right.

And one day he saw in the bunch an old brush,
Who patiently waited, with no need to rush.

That brush did not care, as it stayed very still.
It had no agenda, no worries, no will.

It just rested and waited, as it seemed to just know
That it’s purpose was clear when the right time would show.

The Old Brush was present, the Old Brush was clean.
The Old brush was quiet, and almost serene.

The hand of The Painter then slowly descended,
And picked up the Old Brush, with a purpose transcendent.

As the Painter took over, the Old Brush just flew
Creating a masterpiece again and anew.

And the harried brush pondered, feeling lost and depleted,
If it could get quiet would it ever be needed.

It decided to slow down. It got very still.
It surrendered its ego. It gave up its will.

And The Painter could find it when its bristles were needed.
For it had its own purpose when its ego receded.

The Painter could use it to create works anew.
All of which were beyond what that lone brush could do.

So as you scurry and scamper to get through the day.
Can The Painter now find you? Do you get in your way?

If you get still and quiet, when the timing is right,
The Painter can lead you, with no effort or fright.

You will sail through your day with grace, joy and ease.
Which brush are you? Be the patient one please.

For you’ll find we’re all brushes, and each one is great.
As we trust in The Painter and then co-create.