Since this is all -
this minute,
this hour,
this day,
no promise of tomorrow -
may as well
live.
Reflections
Since this is all -
this minute,
this hour,
this day,
no promise of tomorrow -
may as well
live.
Upon waking, engage reality:
you eyes are the perfect color,
your legs are the right length,
your hair is yours alone.
Whether the sun is shining or
has yet to come across the horizon,
you are
who you are,
where you are,
and this is a good place
to begin.
Does the sun ask,
Shall I shine today?
Does the moon wonder,
Have I been circling the earth for too long?
The questions we ask ourselves,
aren’t they often just as preposterous?
A bit of awakening arises
like morning sun reaching through curtains
Which brings a question, Do I want to wake?
Ego immediately says, “Nah, pull up the covers!”
Mind says, “Maybe. Let’s think on it.”
Body says, “Move slowly at first. We don’t want to pull anything.”
Spirit says nothing but crackles with joy.
Only you know
the color you are.
Don’t let anyone else
color you.
When
sad, mad, glad
comes for tea
(individually, of course, they don’t travel in threes),
they take up lots of space and
pretend they may never leave.
But wholly visitors they are
on an itinerary.
I asked:
What stands in the way
of love,
of joy,
of noticing a bee pollinating a flower
on a summer’s day?
(silence)
The answer appeared:
The wrong question I was
asking.
For no thing stood blocking
these experiences were always
knocking.
It was not what,
but who.
(silence)
(looks in mirror)
Remember,
all the little things -
going to bed,
getting up,
eating well,
a compassionate inner voice,
showing up,
doing good work,
being present,
letting go,
caring -
add up to a
life,
lived not inhabited.
If all your
dreams,
plans,
flights of fancy come true,
just as you had hoped,
what would you do?
More importantly,
how would you feel?
(what’s stopping from feelings those feels now?)
Unclear,
the way ahead,
when preferred are
our blinders
instead.