A story based on a dream I had…
Once, a woman had what she thought was a pimple on her forehead. But it grew. Everyday it grew, until it was a giant sack, like a small womb over her temple.
The woman sighed and figured it was time to go to the dermatologist, but before she could look up the number to make the appointment, there was a rumbling, like a rapid kicking above her brow. And then, a flapping.
And before she could get herself to the mirror to see, the sack suddenly burst open, and there before her, wildly fluttering, was a small, bright and colorful tropical bird-like creature, except it had long wavy brown hair adorned with a tiny yellow flower.
The woman was speechless as she watched this creature vigorously flap its wings, trying to remove whatever icky stuff had been coating them.
But once its wings were free, this magnificent creature looked straight into the woman’s eyes and exclaimed, not very jovially, I might add:
“Thank goodness.”
The woman gasped, naturally. “Oh my god, what in the world? Have I lost my mind?”
“No, you have not lost your mind. You have freed your Yubu.”
“My what?”
“Listen, don’t give yourself any slaps on the back. My freedom was hardly a victory of yours, but I am thrilled, none the less, to be out of your head.
Not a very nice place, I must say. Not at all.”
“How long were you there?”
“You swallowed me years ago. I have been your captive for decades.”
“I swallowed you?”
“Yes indeed you did. You were very little when it happened.”
“Well I don’t remember.”
“Isn’t that funny. And yet, how could I forget?!”
The Yubu suddenly took off laughing, buzzing about the room, tumbling in the air like a drunk ballerina, its hair maniacally flip-flopping in its own breeze, while singing the most beautiful melody: Ahhh, freedom, you are so very freeing, so very, very freeing!!!”
“What is your name?” the woman asked. “I really don’t believe we’ve ever met.”
“I already told you,” he said, whizzing past the woman’s face. “My name is Yubu, and we used to be very, very close. As close as they come.”
Then the Yubu repeated this sentence in song while continuing to soar around the room.
“It’s funny, you’d think I’d remember. Especially bc you talk so loudly and demand so much attention.”
“Ahhh,” the Yubu screeched to a halt. “That’s what everyone used to say! And not exactly in a cordial way!”
“What I meant is that you’re so colorful and grand!”the woman explained.
The Yubu scrunched its beak and suddenly, the woman could hear people’s voices, as if the Yubu were playing a recording:
Shhh!!!!
Stop!!!!
Calm down!!
What is wrong with you?!!
“I think I’ve heard those voices before,” the woman whispered curiously, more to herself than to the Yubu. “Where did they come from? Who said those things?”
“Those voices belong to people from your past. And yet they still echo in your brain, exactly in this same way. Would you like to hear more of what they said? They said an awful lot.”
“No thank you,” the woman said, furrowing her brow. But the Yubu was right. Suddenly, she could hear those very same voices within herself…
“Ahh, it’s all starting to come back to you, am I right?” the Yubu laughed.
“But how can you hear them too?”
“When a Yubu is held captive, it’s usually by those voices. For decades, I’ve shared the space inside you with those awful, treacherous sounds.
It’s a miracle my wings still work after all the effort that was made to clip them.”
“The voices—“ the woman said. “I hardly hear them anymore, and yet, somehow, I have continued listening to what they have to say.”
The woman could now see in her mind all those people from her past, tsking her every move, judging every stirring of her heart, comparing her every longing to what they insisted she should have been longing for instead.
The Yubu then flew over to the woman and perched upon her shoulder. “You look depressed,” he said. “Like you’ve seen a bunch of scary ghosts.”
“I used to recite poetry off the top of my head,” the woman said, looking so sad. “I used to dance… like you! I flapped around the house! I chirped! I had ideas! Oh, so many ideas! They grew like beautiful yellow flowers from every part of me! I was an artist, an explorer, a friend to all of life! I had a direct line to angels who gave me their wisdom and protection! I had access to sacred information! I laughed with joy every day, multiple times a day!”
“And let’s not forget the music,” the Yubu said.
“Oh my goodness, yes, the concerts I gave! In my room! Angels flooded in just to hear!”
“Standing room only, if I recall.”
“Yes! And you were there!”
“Of course I was!”
“You were my inspiration! My Yubu!”
“Ahh, finally,” the Yubu rolled his eyes. “Praise be. You remember.”
“I was so proud, Yubu! I’d run into the rooms where the grown-ups were to share our music, our symphonies, and that’s when it happened: Those voices… ‘Shhhhh!!! Not now!!! Enough!!!’
They shut me down until I no longer made a peep, until I walked back to my room, my head weighted down by shame.”
“Deadbeats.”
“What?” the woman asked.
“That’s what we Yubus call them.”
“Well that’s a good name for them. Deadbeats.”
“And the saddest thing about a deadbeat? They carry around a buried Yubu of their own.”
“Deadbeats have Yubus?”
“Every human is born with a Yubu.”
“I had no idea!”
“Of course these days, most Yubus are swallowed before they make it to 7-years-old.”
“Why?”
“Bc deadbeats can’t bear to hear the joy of the Yubu. It’s too painful. Reminds them of who they once were, before the deadbeats who raised them made them swallow their own. So they have to rid their spaces of everyone else’s Yubu, just so they don’t drown in their regret. Everyone without a Yubu eventually turns into a deadbeat.”
“That’s awful.”
“There’s only thing that keeps a deadbeat alive: logic, and what they’re supposed to do. A magic-less lot, they are.
“And they use their logic to dismiss the Yubus of everyone around them, with the hope that they’ll listen and swallow their own and get them out of their sight.”
“But why would I have listened to the deadbeats? I loved my Yubu so much!”
“Bc they convinced you that they were more real. In their minds, they own all the real estate. And to a deadbeat, real estate is the only thing that’s real. And how proud they are of what they own! Their whole life consists of protecting what they own and expanding it. And they convinced you that if you chose your Yubu you’d be abandoning what’s real and that you’d be left to die. And so you swallowed your Yubu to keep yourself safe, not realizing that you swallowed the most alive thing about you!
“Oh, how you hated when they looked so upset and disappointed with you. You wanted them to smile when you shined. You wanted their Yubus to come out. You didn’t understand that their own Yubus had long been buried.
“You thought you could squeeze joy from a deadbeat if you did what they said.
“And they made you believe that your silence would be rewarded with their love and security.
“They left you with only one choice: To choose your Yubu or choose their way of life. And bc you really thought they’d love you if you did, you swallowed me.
“But deadbeats don’t know how to love. They only know how to convince other people to betray themselves.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Sad is an understatement, sweetheart. Can you imagine? Being stuck inside someone?
Stuck with all that music and poetry and love and all those insights and good ideas? Being bombarded by the sounds of deadbeats whenever I tried to be myself?”
“But why didn’t you try to get my attention back?”
“Why didn’t I try?” the Yubu laughed with frustration. “I sang to you, I spoke to you… I gave you idea after idea. Oh, I was there alright.
And on occasion, you’d listen, mostly when you were just a thought away from doing yourself in.
“But once I filled your heart with life and magic you’d be off, trying yet again to give it all away to the deadbeats. To see if finally they’d give you their attention at last. But deadbeats don’t know the value of magic. They only know how to pull out their calculators and determine how much something is worth based on their own understanding—meaning what’s in it for them. And so they never saw the value of who you are for you.”
A tear rolled down the woman’s cheek. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Yeah, I can imagine you would be. That’s a lot of love and joy and creativity you opted out of.”
“But I didn’t know what I was doing! Can’t we make it up?”
“Nope. I’m sorry. But I can’t trust you. And no way am I going to lose my freedom again.”
“Yubu, please!” the woman cried. “All this time, I thought I was lacking community, or some nutrient in my blood… but it was you that was missing! I see that now!”
“You want me to risk being swallowed again? Stifled for eternity inside the prison of your dense flesh, surrounded by the death rattle of deadbeats!?”
Then the bird began to sing. Another beautiful song.
“But I remember now how much fun we had everyday! Running together and flying together and exploring together! Ours was the most beautiful friendship! You were there every time I was sad! Giving me encouragement, giving me validation, understanding my visions! And those deadbeats… Why did I bother trying to explain you to them? They only thought I had something wrong with me!”
The woman began to cry harder.
“Can’t you give me another chance?! I want to make up for lost time!”
“There’s only one way I’ll stay.”
“Tell me, I’ll do anything!!!”
“Ok, ok. No need to grovel. The only way I’ll stay is if you sign a legal expansion.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a contract. But it expands instead of contracts.”
“Will I need a lawyer?”
“Nope. This expansion is simply a promise that you’ll make room for me in your life at all times.
“That for all matters, you will consult your Yubu instead of the deadbeats you internalized. Bc if I’m going to return to your side, I don’t ever want to be told to shhhh again. And I don’t want to be doubted. And I don’t want to be compared—to other deadbeats or to their lackluster ideas of success or to anyone else!”
“Ok, I agree!”
“This means you’re saying yes to being free. And you’re giving up being in fear. You’re breaking the contract that seeks approval from deadbeats, that invests your energy into getting attention and compensation from deadbeats. And instead, you will be joining forces with the Yubu!”
“But what if I forget?”
“If you forget, you must make a promise that you will heed the call from your forest within. All people contain a forest deep, deep within. It’s the only place within you that hasn’t been touched or colonized by deadbeats. It’s a beautiful, peaceful place with mossy rocks and flowing streams, that only becomes real when one believes it is. That’s where the Yubu sit. Waiting. Waiting for their captives to come visit. So if you forget, you must heed the Yubu’s call and sit beside him until you find yourself back at home.
“And then, you can carry yourself back into the world with your Yubu at your side.
“You have to promise to never let the deadbeats drag you down.
“And if they ask, ‘Why do you seem so confident lately, did you cross off all the items on your todo list? Have you earned enough for retirement?’
You can simply say, ‘I have my Yubu. And we just performed a beautiful concert.’
“And if they ask how many people were there, you can tell them it was a concert in your damn bathroom with the songs of your heart.
“The deadbeats will take everything alive and try to kill it with their deadbeat calculations.
“But a Yubu? Our goal is joy. And to give away that joy. And the person they want to give their joy to first? Is you.
“When a deadbeat crosses your path, you either head in the opposite direction, or, if you’ve got your Yubu by your side, you can look into the deadbeat’s eyes and greet their captured Yubu.
“Start with a nonsense joke. Yubus love those.
‘What do you get when you cross an orange with a tree? A fingernail!’
“Their wardens will sometimes laugh awkwardly just enough for their Yubus to escape.
“And when you see the sparkle of their Yubu, you make sure to give him him a compliment. Anything you can do to keep the Yubus alive!”
“I promise!”
“Well then, I hearby pronounce that I will officially take the place beside you—not buried inside you, but beside you—as your Yubu for the rest of your time in flesh.”
“Thank you.”
The woman hugged her Yubu. And the Yubu took the yellow flower from his long brown hair and placed it back into the woman’s hair. And the woman smiled. And together, they began to sing and dance!
And the woman, who was usually so afraid and ashamed of the sound of her voice and the movement of her body, made no more apologies.
She took up the space she was in with the greatest expression of herself! Not to get approval from the deadbeats, but to celebrate life with her Yubu.
And to those who have been listening to this story… Maybe you’re wondering if you too have a Yubu buried deep inside that you swallowed long ago… If so, please, go deep into the mossy forest of your being. Your Yubu will be there. And you can reunite and make an expansion of your own.
The End.
-JLK
