These past few days, I've been feeling very peaceful. But a strange sort of peaceful. A peaceful that exists in the midst of rushing. Or maybe I'm just imagining the peacefulness because I'd like it to be there.
Sometimes I just wish I could go off to a monastery somewhere and just sit. Join a group of like minded individuals and sit. Breath. Be.
And then I wake up, find myself in a rushing Western World, consistently moving forward, and realize that this is not the place for me. Not in this life, anyway. Maybe in the past. Maybe in the future. But now, today, I must live in the present. And the present, in the present, is always rushing ahead. Or maybe it's not moving at all.
Wow. I scare myself sometimes when I allow me to go stream-of-consciousness. If you could see inside my head... shudder. :)
And now to a poem.
Enough. These few words are enough.
If not these words, this breath.
If not this breath, this sitting here.
This opening to the life
we have refused
again and again
until now.
Until now.
-- David Whyte
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