Wherever I stand with arms outstretched to greet the new day, I stand in my own shoes; on my own worn road; embodying my own bent for freedom and joy; mirrored by my own shadows that hitch a ride like stones between my toes, reminding me to shake out the grit of my pain. Reminding me also that yesterday and tomorrow are illusions and today, this moment alone, is my true place to live.
Physical pain wears me down into the trough. Images of my quiet, secluded and safe home space appear like mirages on the horizon of my consciousness, trying to persuade me that over there, back into my memory or forward into my imagined pain-free tomorrow, lies my hope - until the grimy bottom of this valley spreads across my awareness and bids me come sit in the pain and be mindful; focus; pay attention to this moment...
Then a new day comes, and I can see the view again from a different vantage point...a new peak.
I recall a poem I wrote a few years ago:
Promise
always the promise of new
like birdsong or morning
what mystery the unknown
a distant white puff
can rain or shade the day
either way life comes
in whispers or crow caws
like a prayer call to hope
softly on the doorstep
take off shoes
wrap the heart woven head scarf
pause a moment
bend thoughts and memories
soul's knees find the floor
and wonder bows with me
breath in, breath out
balanced between
days gone, days to come
Thanks to Vatika and Susan who remind me to stop and 'sit' and just be...
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