I am staring at a flashing cursor
aware that a pressure is building
I want the gift to show up
the grace that enables me to write
and I stare at blank space
blank mind
and the impatience rolls in like a bank of fog,
enveloping me
inviting me
to just let go.
The more I desire
to create a bridge
a bridge of words
the more the neutral space
sifts my thoughts
one by one
until I am one with the emptiness.
There is so much I want to express
my heart assures me
yet my mind sits,
gets up
takes a stretch.
I would like to say my mind
is becoming more like my new roommate,
she who sits so totally present
to the moment
gazing out on the world below
from our balcony.
Her ears twitch and point
with such focussed awareness,
she can stare at an insect with such
rapt attention,
her whole body humming with
the focus of her curiosity
she vibrates.
The communication between us
is often a mystery
when her gaze meets mine
I am easily as curious
to see what inner state
will appear.
Sometimes her countenance is one
of a gentle tolerance
that of a lioness
who looks knowingly
straight into my soul.
In those moments I am like a child
who gazes in awe at the wisdom
held in those eyes
and I feel so young,
still so young
in my journey.
So just as my mind blank
begins to fill
with really simple gratitude,
I feel another wave
Impatience wanting to go somewhere
say something important
And I’m empty once more.
If writing is a process,
I am fighting with parts of me
that want more
from life,
from me
and somewhere inside
anchoring all this struggle
is this incredible peace.
I guess I would describe that
wellspring as my eye
in the middle of the storm,
the still place
that is in the centre
and rejoices
in the midst of chaos.
aware that a pressure is building
I want the gift to show up
the grace that enables me to write
and I stare at blank space
blank mind
and the impatience rolls in like a bank of fog,
enveloping me
inviting me
to just let go.
The more I desire
to create a bridge
a bridge of words
the more the neutral space
sifts my thoughts
one by one
until I am one with the emptiness.
There is so much I want to express
my heart assures me
yet my mind sits,
gets up
takes a stretch.
I would like to say my mind
is becoming more like my new roommate,
she who sits so totally present
to the moment
gazing out on the world below
from our balcony.
Her ears twitch and point
with such focussed awareness,
she can stare at an insect with such
rapt attention,
her whole body humming with
the focus of her curiosity
she vibrates.
The communication between us
is often a mystery
when her gaze meets mine
I am easily as curious
to see what inner state
will appear.
Sometimes her countenance is one
of a gentle tolerance
that of a lioness
who looks knowingly
straight into my soul.
In those moments I am like a child
who gazes in awe at the wisdom
held in those eyes
and I feel so young,
still so young
in my journey.
So just as my mind blank
begins to fill
with really simple gratitude,
I feel another wave
Impatience wanting to go somewhere
say something important
And I’m empty once more.
If writing is a process,
I am fighting with parts of me
that want more
from life,
from me
and somewhere inside
anchoring all this struggle
is this incredible peace.
I guess I would describe that
wellspring as my eye
in the middle of the storm,
the still place
that is in the centre
and rejoices
in the midst of chaos.
