Life calls out my name
As if it cannot find me.
“Here!” I reply with eagerness,
And then panic strikes my body –
Swirling the mind in the torrent of rumination –
For what have I agreed to be present?
I wish it were not the grinding of my mind-body
A dark, misplaced kind of redemption
Sought out in achieving the illusory image of success —
Because I have reached desperately too many times
For this myth of enoughness
And all turns to vapor
And I fall and fall into failure –
Thick like cement, quick-drying stuckness
If I don’t listen,
When I don’t listen
To life calling out my name.
My voice now strained to reply, “Here.”
This cycle of clinging and falling, illusion and delusion
A common hell in which so many of us dwell.
So upon this morning’s light caressing my closed eyes
I awaken, sit up and dangle my legs off the bedside
And promise to stop, to rest in the sacred pause.
Slowly I stand at the open window
Cool dawn breeze encourages me to call out my own name.
And I feel it – the heart beats – here, here, here
And brightness of possibility vibrates through the body –
An electric shock of love for the ordinary.
Yes, this is enough.
Here, this moment.
This body.
This life.
Here.
