The demonic psychology of laziness
Spit through the left, drive away the devil, who whispers “excuses”. Why do not we accept the right-handed angel? It seems like double schizophrenia: self-separate with the demon, ignoring the cherub. It is difficult to call us normal.
The skeleton is commanded by namby-pamby: a tortuous hemispherical pudding, a resourceful Count Dracula, a light feathered complainer, ever-hungry womb, a pump running down into the heels. It is not marvelous that it is tight and painful for the soul in this bedlam.
Crowned by a ring whines: “Master, crawl off the couch”. The brain feels sick: “Let's run?” The heat-resistant trumpet: “Marathon by the end of the year!” The stomach is getting ready for the journey, the heart of the soles is praying to wait. Most decided to sleep.
We decide in a friendly chorus. The White one cry solo: “Lose weight by the summer?”, the Black one provokes: “Go diet!” The throat buzzes: “Why starve?” The result is predictable – eat and sleep. The order is set, the roles are painted, we play dramas and save up fat.
The observatory will be visited by philosophy, in life called Sophia the Wise, with a mournful theme: “Slow life is the path of thoughtful awareness”. Will weave tales, whistle melodies, replace the vest. I finished school, graduated from the University, did not achieve anything, but sang through the summer.
In the middle comes Mr. Fat, the don Juan of reserve, master of refrigeration lamps. Selectively resourceful, cunning, he remembers thousands of stories and influences sisters. Visits muscled ones and does not spare puny ones: will pour vodka for one and give lard for other.
English Man comes from oversea – he is an uncle of the controversial relative line. He will beckon with an irregular verb, has a deep-voice growling accent, will mysteriously sing a Skyfall. Umbrella, raincoat, kettle, taken from the cab, farewell “Madame, Sir”. Maybe sells the cheese, but who will understand?
Couple Mr. and Mrs. Grab flies in: a matchmaker of horse princes with hunter of lazy oligarchs. They cross-stitch the conscious with fairy tales. Tear self-esteem, burn doubts with napalm, prophesy Armenians for fatties, justify beer bellies.
Grandma and Grandfather of marriage do not come. Greek myths are tolerant, Volkonsky's torments are unbearable. Should have done a selfie with an oak tree, skied in Austerlitz, who needs all this whining degeneration? The confectioner bakes croissants, and does not think about the principles.
On the TV – a discomfort: daughter of Emelian and the son of the butler, Ivan the assignee and Andrew the cook. Repertoire is studied – sing along in solitude, brand in public. Otherwise, there is nothing to talk about, but you want to shine with an absence.
Sadness is repaired by Chanson, who covers with the Repertoire. We sing at ease, learn slang, become cool in dreams. People sing along after the third, the gene pool is in melancholy. Howl of love, returning the rapport of frailty.
The inner world is controversial, covering ourselves with Anglicisms, tearing the last out of the throat. Diligent are divided in camps, raising the crying banners. You read, you think: “These will awake me – good goals are outlined!” An hour later – posters in the heap, opponents in the ecstasy of the pub's penance.
Why were you raising the devil? In the parallel reality would have been already healthy and fit, eating great, fluttering over the flowers, playing the lutes and harps. But no, it is pleasant to horse around here – not an idyll, but one's own, warm. If you squeeze the nose, then it is okay.
So we got to the answer: work with left hand, because the right one serves as respirator. It is easier to swim with the stream than to decorate the banks and bridges. While we build it, they will be flowed down; building for others – nobody is a fool here. That is how we live. Clever, beautiful, spiritual. In words and in the head.
The mind justifies laziness. Consciousness preserves the constancy of being. The psychic resists, not wanting to puff. Reason, does not learn, assuring of overload. The spirit is confident in superiority: “Others are worse”. Memory does not like the futility of changes. The soul suffers with torments, begging not to worry with trifles.
Capture the brain by storming the mind, decisively influencing frailty, dropping the excuses that have grown on your shell. Ignore the wily demons, take on the content of anxious angels. Do not teach others, do yourself. You cannot move to the goal – crawl, tired – rest your heading in its direction.
Psychology is fragile. We try to stop, hide and not reflect the light. The simple way is to dream with victories, honest – to start doing. However, the easy road is not for us: “Give us challenges”. When the biggest obstacles we create for ourselves. If too lazy to finish reading – how can you change yourself?
Author: Oleg Braginsky
Source: New Retail