That was Then… a Short While Before I Found Companionship With a Worm

I'd been along this little path for months now. It crossed from the backdoor to the tap outside where there was the one tap of water. I trudged along it daily either grumbling within or stressing about one thing or another. If it wasn’t a misplaced item, it was a word said too soon. I never failed to have something to stress about.

Stressing was quickly turning into my natural state of being – my proclivity – and I was yet to realize just how dangerous that proclivity was to me. It wasn’t as though I had not heard it all before; I knew the script by heart. Give thanks in all circumstances. Always keep a thankful heart. But how could I keep a thankful heart in these circumstances? How could I keep a thankful heart when I was virtually homeless?

Virtually?

Did I say virtually?

What a load of BS!

I was homeless – there was no other way to describe my situation other than that, and I was mad – mad as in as angry as a loser. 

I was angry at everything and everyone. They did not understand me, they did not feel me, they did not care that I was burning inside with pure uninhibited wrath at the world, at myself for allowing my fall, and at all the circumstances that had brought me down to my knees crawling to this point.

So once more, on the corridor outside the home where I was homeless (yes I was homeless in a home full of people), I crossed the window and casually glanced at the worm that I had noticed there the day before.

But this time, Kipepeo was there on the wall facing down toward the ground, rather than upwards towards the ceiling. And Kipepeo was still – very still for a bug, and very still for a living thing anyway. And that stillness is what caught my attention.

You see, when you are distraught, and full of anger, and filled to overflowing with pain and misery – quiet easily gets to you. It tickles something in you; something you wish you had but cannot find. I looked at Kipepeo again, and quietly mused, 'why would a bug be so quiet?' And then still thinking along those lines, I passed on my way.

Three days later, the answer came, for Kipepeo was no longer just a bug lying on the side on the window facing a 'wrong direction' – down instead of up - he had started to form the cocoon that would encase him for a season.

Encase him, entrap him, and make sure he cannot move up or down. Kipepeo was losing his freedom. Suddenly I felt him from the deepest part of my soul – I understood this little creature's journey. He was going to be entrapped and enslaved to his journey – a journey he could no more resist nor turn away from. Yet in this journey lay his freedom.


It was a paradox; in his loss of freedom lay his eminent gain of unlimited freedom. Within me came a flood of kindred recognition. In that little bug I found 'someone' or 'something' that sincerely understood where I was.

The dam of tears that I had held back for two long years burst. I cried the tears of the shame, the pain and the agony over all the events that had brought me here – the point where I was homeless.
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In this category, Kipepeo Journey, Paula shares her journey to wakefulness from being a highly unconscious soul to be an awakened conscious creator delighted to be alive. To have Paula write your story as a ghostwriter, send her a direct message, click here.