With fresh eyes I begin again in meditation. Sounds and thoughts pass by. Just like the breath. I am the silent witness. Waves of awareness Swirl around me. Can I follow a sound From inception to conclusion? What stories and assumptions do I attach to them? Can I bring peaceful presence To my everyday life, To each encounter, To each thought? I begin again With fresh eyes And an open heart.
The doorway opens. Heartbeat to heartbeat Seeds clutched in my hand Waiting to be sowed Not knowing what lies ahead. Seeds are like ideas and words. Some have a way of Flowing into the heart and mind. Germinating into core beliefs, A shared memory or story. Where it originated Sometimes a mystery. Seeds can root into an entire story whose words and thoughts can empower and create growth. Some stories have to be Pruned back to allow in more light And space for new growth to take shape, To embody and take root. It all starts with a little seed. A seed in my heart that germinates into thought, Speech and the written word. Those fruits can then be passed From me to you. An offering from the heart.
The lives that dream beyond the window pane a glimpse into the soul but I can never surmise what is really there. I see a middle-aged woman bending over is she too old and unable to stand upright? Does she use a cane or a walker? Is she always carrying a heavy load along with a heavy heart? She is bending over to what I can’t see. I am curious about her life. Does she suffer? Did she ever feel pride and proud of her accomplishments? I can wonder and assume. I find that I transpose my feelings as if we share one heart, one life, one soul. But the story is not mine. She is bent way down and I can just see the top of her grayish hair pulled into a high bun on her head. What mysteries lay out of my sight. Now she moves. She is standing once more. Her arms are full with the warm embrace of a child that she lifts up so they can talk and see each other eye to eye. The child and the woman are smiling and the woman starts swaying a gentle dance. Is there music? Is there song? Her eyes and face are bright. She no longer seems bent over, weak and worn. She is full of life with the sweet babe who lights her soul and mine as I continue to pass on my way. A smile on my face that she is not suffering nor am I. The world is lovely and has tender moments and I’m grateful to be the silent witness of this loving magic that fills the air.
It depends on how much I “buckle down” and get done. If I just work a little harder, strive a little more, I will be X: Happier, successful, loved, fulfilled, accomplished, complete, evolved to be my best, smartest, healthiest, perfect-as-I-am self. But that’s a cop-out. I will never fully “arrive” as my life is here for the long haul. My health, my interests, my friends, work, creative focus and otherwise will wax and wane, as it should in this place called life.
What happens when we get to the end of the road and arrive? Is that the end of my story? Do I stop learning, evolving and growing? Do I want to?
There is no ultimate destination because that would mean the end of the line, the old couple on the porch sipping lemonade as the days quickly pass, waiting for what? Remembering the past and stuck in story? Waiting for a peaceful end to a fulfilled life?
I’m not there yet. I have a lot more to learn, to glean, to create, to love, to be, to serve, to clear way, to relax, to enjoy, to delight, to revel and linger. It’s too much, too juicy, too soon to stop.
So that fixed narrative sets you up for failure because there is no “done.”
Just be. Just here with life’s lessons, trials and tribulations, joys, mistakes, regrets, loves, memories both cherished and wished to be forgotten, hopes, dreams, pleasures, etc. My growth mindset says to keep being curious on what lights me up lately. Keep writing, keep asking the questions, digging and laying the inner groundwork to see what’s in store next.