Release the urge to get it right Perfection is the joy destroyer. Release the desire to sound eloquent To have the right words delivered At the exact moment. Release and trust that I will receive What I’m meant to. There is no end goal No finish line No final product. We are all works in progress And there is always room for more: More edits, for rewrites, to rehashing And then what’s left? Hacked up, tattered words Left on the page. Torn fragments. Might as well make confetti And see where the words land. That would show perfection. I don’t have to do it right Or get it right. There is no finish line where I suddenly become who I’m meant to be. I am her now. I embrace and embody her now. There is no “there” to get to. I am the joy, the connection, The creator. I am the words that you see, The sounds that you hear. They are all a part of me And a part of you too. Where does creativity come from? The seed of the soul is my guess. What seeds are you going to plant today? What nourishment does your soul desire? What would you like to plant? Place them in your palm And touch the earth. You are forever supported And nourished.
The fragrant cinnamon sprinkled on my oatmeal Fills my nostrils Signaling the start of my day. I break the fast And gratefully accept The flavors of blueberry, apple, and walnuts. It is but a few minutes Of quiet nourishment. And I try not to get lost in thought Of have-to’s and time constraints. Each morning is like this. A brief moment to savor Before the mad rush of Getting the kids ready for school And my morning commute to work. All is still Just in this moment. The floating fragrant cinnamon oatmeal Fulfills and fuels me. For I know not what today brings. But for now, Just in this moment, I am nourished and whole.